‘What will she do when he comes out?’ Maria asked.  Mrs. Rewble,—­Harriet,—­the curate’s wife, was there.  Mr. Rewble, as curate, found it convenient to make frequent visits to his father-in-law’s house.  And Mrs. Posttlethwaite,—­Matilda,—­was with them, as Mr. Posttlethwaite’s business in the soap line caused him to live at Pollington.  And there were two unmarried sisters, Fanny and Jane.  Mrs. Rewble was by this time quite the matron, and Mrs. Posttlethwaite was also the happy mother of children.  But Maria was still Maria.  Fanny already had a string to her bow,—­and Jane was expectant of many strings.

‘She ought to go back to her father and mother, of course,’ said Mrs. Rewble, indignantly.

‘I know I wouldn’t,’ said Jane.

’You know nothing about it, miss, and you ought not to speak of such a thing,’ said the curate’s wife.  Jane at this made a grimace which was intended to be seen only by her sister Fanny.

‘It is very hard that two loving hearts should be divided,’ said Maria.

‘I never thought so much of John Caldigate as you did,’ said Mrs. Posttlethwaite.  ’He seems to have been able to love a good many young women all at the same time.’

’It’s like tasting a lot of cheeses, till you get the one that suits you,’ said Jane.  This offended the elder sister so grievously that she declared she did not know what their mother was about, to allow such liberty to the girls, and then suggested that the conversation should be changed.

‘I’m sure I did not say anything wrong,’ said Jane, ’and I suppose it is like that.  A gentleman has to find out whom he likes best.  And as he liked Miss Bolton best, I think it’s a thousand pities they should be parted.’

‘Ten thousand pities!’ said Maria enthusiastically.

‘Particularly as there is a baby,’ said Jane,—­upon which Mrs. Rewble was again very angry.

‘If Dick were to come home, he’d clear it all up at once,’ said Mrs. Posttlethwaite.

‘Dick will never come home,’ said Matilda mournfully.

‘Never!’ said Mrs. Rewble.  ’I am afraid that he has expiated all his indiscretions.  It should make us who were born girls thankful that we have not been subjected to the same temptations.’

‘I should like to be a man all the same,’ said Jane.

‘You do not at all know what you are saying,’ replied the monitor.  ’How little have you realized what poor Dick must have suffered!  I wonder when they are going to let us have tea.  I’m almost famished.’  Mrs. Rewble was known in the family for having a good appetite.  They were sitting at this moment round a table on the lawn, at which they intended to partake of their evening meal.  The doctor might or might not join them.  Mrs. Shand, who did not like the open air, would have hers sent to her in the drawing-room.  Mr. Rewble would certainly be there.  Mr. Posttlethwaite, who had been home to his dinner, had gone back to the soap-works.  ’Don’t you think, Jane, if you were to go in, you could hurry them?’ Then Jane went in and hurried the servant.