’Fresh and young in warmth and kindness, I mean.  I’m afraid I must own, that I think your opinions are the oldest and mustiest I have met with this long time.’

’Hear this daughter of yours, Hale Her residence in Milton has quite corrupted her.  She’s a democrat, a red republican, a member of the Peace Society, a socialist—­’

’Papa, it’s all because I’m standing up for the progress of commerce.  Mr. Bell would have had it keep still at exchanging wild-beast skins for acorns.’

’No, no.  I’d dig the ground and grow potatoes.  And I’d shave the wild-beast skins and make the wool into broad cloth.  Don’t exaggerate, missy.  But I’m tired of this bustle.  Everybody rushing over everybody, in their hurry to get rich.’

’It is not every one who can sit comfortably in a set of college rooms, and let his riches grow without any exertion of his own.  No doubt there is many a man here who would be thankful if his property would increase as yours has done, without his taking any trouble about it,’ said Mr. Hale.

’I don’t believe they would.  It’s the bustle and the struggle they like.  As for sitting still, and learning from the past, or shaping out the future by faithful work done in a prophetic spirit—­Why!  Pooh!  I don’t believe there’s a man in Milton who knows how to sit still; and it is a great art.’

’Milton people, I suspect, think Oxford men don’t know how to move.  It would be a very good thing if they mixed a little more.’

’It might be good for the Miltoners.  Many things might be good for them which would be very disagreeable for other people.’

‘Are you not a Milton man yourself?’ asked Margaret.  ’I should have thought you would have been proud of your town.’

’I confess, I don’t see what there is to be proud of If you’ll only come to Oxford, Margaret, I will show you a place to glory in.’

‘Well!’ said Mr. Hale, ’Mr. Thornton is coming to drink tea with us to-night, and he is as proud of Milton as you of Oxford.  You two must try and make each other a little more liberal-minded.’

‘I don’t want to be more liberal-minded, thank you,’ said Mr. Bell.

‘Is Mr. Thornton coming to tea, papa?’ asked Margaret in a low voice.

’Either to tea or soon after.  He could not tell.  He told us not to wait.’

Mr. Thornton had determined that he would make no inquiry of his mother as to how far she had put her project into execution of speaking to Margaret about the impropriety of her conduct.  He felt pretty sure that, if this interview took place, his mother’s account of what passed at it would only annoy and chagrin him, though he would all the time be aware of the colouring which it received by passing through her mind.  He shrank from hearing Margaret’s very name mentioned; he, while he blamed her—­while he was jealous of her—­while he renounced her—­he loved her sorely, in spite of himself.  He dreamt of her; he dreamt she came dancing towards