The true hobbledehoy is much alone, not being greatly given to social intercourse even with other hobbledehoys—­a trait in his character which I think has hardly been sufficiently observed by the world at large.  He has probably become a hobbledehoy instead of an Apollo, because circumstances have not afforded him much social intercourse; and, therefore, he wanders about in solitude, taking long walks, in which he dreams of those successes which are so far removed from his powers of achievement.  Out in the fields, with his stick in his hand, he is very eloquent, cutting off the heads of the springing summer weeds, as he practises his oratory with energy.  And thus he feeds an imagination for which those who know him give him but scanty credit, and unconsciously prepares himself for that latter ripening, if only the ungenial shade will some day cease to interpose itself.

Such hobbledehoys receive but little petting, unless it be from a mother; and such a hobbledehoy was John Eames when he was sent away from Guestwick to begin his life in the big room of a public office in London.  We may say that there was nothing of the young Apollo about him.  But yet he was not without friends—­friends who wished him well, and thought much of his welfare.  And he had a younger sister who loved him dearly, who had no idea that he was a hobbledehoy, being somewhat of a hobbledehoy herself.  Mrs Eames, their mother, was a widow, living in a small house in Guestwick, whose husband had been throughout his whole life an intimate friend of our squire.  He had been a man of many misfortunes, having begun the world almost with affluence, and having ended it in poverty.  He had lived all his days in Guestwick, having at one time occupied a large tract of land, and lost much money in experimental farming; and late in life he had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, and there had died, some two years previously to the commencement of this story.  With no other man had Mr Dale lived on terms so intimate; and when Mr Eames died Mr Dale acted as executor under his will, and as guardian to his children.  He had, moreover, obtained for John Eames that situation under the Crown which he now held.

And Mrs Eames had been and still was on very friendly terms with Mrs Dale.  The squire had never taken quite kindly to Mrs Eames, whom her husband had not met till he was already past forty years of age.  But Mrs Dale had made up by her kindness to the poor forlorn woman for any lack of that cordiality which might have been shown to her from the Great House.  Mrs Eames was a poor forlorn woman,—­forlorn even during the time of her husband’s life, but very woebegone now in her widowhood.  In matters of importance the squire had been kind to her; arranging for her little money affairs, advising her about her house and income, also getting for her that appointment for her son.  But he snubbed her when he met her, and poor Mrs Eames held him in great awe.  Mrs