“Good!  To take me in, with a vengeance.  Why, if I’ve a mind to buy, shan’t I go in of my own accord?  And isn’t it a sure and certain thing that I shall never spend a halfpenny with a scoundrel who attacks me like that?”

“How can you expect foreigners to reason, Jacob?” exclaimed Mrs. Bradshaw.

“You should take these things as compliments,” remarked Spence.  “They see an Englishman coming along, and as a matter of course they consider him a person of wealth and leisure, who will be grateful to any one for suggesting how he can kill time.  Having nothing in the world to do but enjoy himself, why shouldn’t the English lord drive to Baiae and back, just to get an appetite?”

“Lord, eh?” growled Mr. Bradshaw, rising on his toes, and smiling with a certain satisfaction.

Threescore years all but two sat lightly on Jacob Bush Bradshaw.  His cheek was ruddy, his eyes had the lustre of health; in the wrinkled forehead you saw activity of brain, and on his lips the stubborn independence of a Lancashire employer of labour.  Prosperity had set its mark upon him, that peculiarly English prosperity which is so intimately associated with spotless linen, with a good cut of clothes, with scant but valuable jewellery, with the absence of any perfume save that which suggests the morning tub.  He was a manufacturer of silk.  The provincial accent notwithstanding, his conversation on general subjects soon declared him a man of logical mind and of much homely information.  A sufficient self-esteem allied itself with his force of character, but robust amiability prevented this from becoming offensive; he had the sense of humour, and enjoyed a laugh at himself as well as at other people.  Though his life had been absorbed in the pursuit of solid gain, he was no scorner of the attainments which lay beyond his own scope, and in these latter years, now that the fierce struggle was decided in his favour, he often gave proof of a liberal curiosity.  With regard to art and learning, he had the intelligence to be aware of his own defects; where he did not enjoy, he at least knew that he ought to have done so, and he had a suspicion that herein also progress could be made by stubborn effort, as in the material world.  Finding himself abroad, he had set himself to observe and learn, with results now and then not a little amusing.  The consciousness of wealth disposed him to intellectual generosity; standing on so firm a pedestal, he did not mind admitting that others might have a wider outlook.  Italy was an impecunious country; personally and patriotically he had a pleasure in recognizing the fact, and this made it easier for him to concede the points of superiority which he had heard attributed to her.  Jacob was rigidly sincere; he had no touch of the snobbery which shows itself in sham admiration.  If he liked a thing he said so, and strongly; if he felt no liking where his guide-book directed him to be enthusiastic, he kept silence and cudgelled his brains.