I was amazed at mother’s words, being so unlike her; while I loved her all the more because she forgot herself so.  In another moment in ran Annie, ay and Lizzie also, knowing by some mystic sense (which I have often noticed, but never could explain) that something was astir, belonging to the world of women, yet foreign to the eyes of men.  And now the Counsellor, being well-born, although such a heartless miscreant, beckoned to me to come away; which I, being smothered with women, was only too glad to do, as soon as my own love would let go of me.

“That is the worst of them,” said the old man; when I had led him into our kitchen, with an apology at every step, and given him hot schnapps and water, and a cigarro of brave Tom Faggus:  “you never can say much, sir, in the way of reasoning (however gently meant and put) but what these women will fly out.  It is wiser to put a wild bird in a cage, and expect him to sit and look at you, and chirp without a feather rumpled, than it is to expect a woman to answer reason reasonably.”  Saying this, he looked at his puff of smoke as if it contained more reason.

“I am sure I do not know, sir,” I answered according to a phrase which has always been my favourite, on account of its general truth:  moreover, he was now our guest, and had right to be treated accordingly:  “I am, as you see, not acquainted with the ways of women, except my mother and sisters.”

“Except not even them, my son,” said the Counsellor, now having finished his glass, without much consultation about it; “if you once understand your mother and sisters—­why you understand the lot of them.”

He made a twist in his cloud of smoke, and dashed his finger through it, so that I could not follow his meaning, and in manners liked not to press him.

“Now of this business, John,” he said, after getting to the bottom of the second glass, and having a trifle or so to eat, and praising our chimney-corner; “taking you on the whole, you know, you are wonderfully good people; and instead of giving me up to the soldiers, as you might have done, you are doing your best to make me drunk.”

“Not at all, sir,” I answered; “not at all, your worship.  Let me mix you another glass.  We rarely have a great gentleman by the side of our embers and oven.  I only beg your pardon, sir, that my sister Annie (who knows where to find all the good pans and the lard) could not wait upon you this evening; and I fear they have done it with dripping instead, and in a pan with the bottom burned.  But old Betty quite loses her head sometimes, by dint of over-scolding.”

“My son,” replied the Counsellor, standing across the front of the fire, to prove his strict sobriety:  “I meant to come down upon you to-night; but you have turned the tables upon me.  Not through any skill on your part, nor through any paltry weakness as to love (and all that stuff, which boys and girls spin tops at, or knock dolls’ noses together), but through your simple way of taking me, as a man to be believed; combined with the comfort of this place, and the choice tobacco and cordials.  I have not enjoyed an evening so much, God bless me if I know when!”