“You don’t think that, Mr. Morton”

“I believe him to be a great deal better, for he earns his bread, and takes care of his mother, and as far as I know does his duty thoroughly.”

“I know the difference, Mr. Morton, and of course I know how you feel it.  I don’t suppose that Mr. Twentyman is a fit companion for any of the Mortons, but for all that he may be a fit companion for me,—­and my sisters.”  Surely she must have said this with the express object of declaring to him that in spite of the advantages of her education she chose to put herself in the ranks of the Twentymans, Runcimans and such like.  He had come there ardently wishing that she might be allowed to go to his aunt, and resolved that he would take her himself if it were possible.  But now he almost thought that she had better not go.  If she had made her election, she must be allowed to abide by it.  If she meant to marry Mr. Twentyman what good could she get by associating with his aunt or with him?  And had she not as good as told him that she meant to marry Mr. Twentyman?  She had at any rate very plainly declared that she regarded Mr. Twentyman as her equal in rank.  Then he took his leave without any further explanation.  Even if she did go to Cheltenham he would not take her.

After that he walked straight out to Bragton.  He was of course altogether unconscious what grand things his cousin John had intended to do by him, had not the Honourable old lady interfered; but he had made up his mind that duty required him to call at the house.  So he walked by the path across the bridge and when he came out on the gravel road near the front door he found a gentleman smoking a cigar and looking around him.  It was Mr. Gotobed who had just returned from a visit which he had made, the circumstances of which must be narrated in the next chapter.  The Senator lifted his hat and remarked that it was a very fine afternoon.  Reginald lifted his hat and assented.  “Mr. Morton, Sir, I think is out with the ladies, taking a drive.”

“I will leave a card then.”

“The old lady is at home, sir, if you wish to see her,” continued the Senator following Reginald up to the door.

“Oh, Mr. Reginald, is that you?” said old Mrs. Hopkins taking the card.  “They are all out,—­except herself.”  As he certainly did not wish to see “herself,” he greeted the old woman and left his card.

“You live in these parts, sir?” asked the Senator.

“In the town yonder.”

“Because Mr. Morton’s housekeeper seems to know you.”

“She knows me very well as I was brought up in this house.  Good morning to you.”

“Good afternoon to you, sir.  Perhaps you can tell me who lives in that country residence,—­what you call a farm-house,—­on the other side of the road.”  Reginald said that he presumed the gentleman was alluding to Mr. Twentyman’s house.

“Ah, yes,—­I dare say.  That was the name I heard up there.  You are not Mr. Twentyman, sir?”