at Caleb Garth's breakfast-table in the large parlor where the

maps and desk were: father, mother, and five of the children.
Mary was just now at home waiting for a situation, while Christy,

the boy next to her, was getting cheap learning and cheap fare
in Scotland, having to his father's disappointment taken to books

instead of that sacredcalling "business."
The letters had come--nine costly letters, for which the postman had

been paid three and twopence, and Mr. Garth was forgetting his tea
and toast while he read his letters and laid them open one above

the other, sometimes swaying his head slowly, sometimes screwing up
his mouth in inwarddebate, but not forgetting to cut off a large

red seal unbroken, which Letty snatched up like an eager terrier.
The talk among the rest went on unrestrainedly, for nothing disturbed

Caleb's absorption except shaking the table when he was writing.
Two letters of the nine had been for Mary. After reading them,

she had passed them to her mother, and sat playing with her
tea-spoon absently, till with a sudden recollection she returned

to her sewing, which she had kept on her lap during breakfast.
"Oh, don't sew, Mary!" said Ben, pulling her arm down. "Make me

a peacock with this bread-crumb." He had been kneading a small mass
for the purpose.

"No, no, Mischief!" said Mary, good-humoredly, while she pricked
his hand lightly with her needle. "Try and mould it yourself:

you have seen me do it often enough. I must get this sewing done.
It is for Rosamond Vincy: she is to be married next week, and she

can't be married without this handkerchief." Mary ended merrily,
amused with the last notion.

"Why can't she, Mary?" said Letty, seriously interested in this mystery,
and pushing her head so close to her sister that Mary now turned

the threatening needle towards Letty's nose.
"Because this is one of a dozen, and without it there would

only be eleven," said Mary, with a grave air of explanation,
so that Letty sank back with a sense of knowledge.

"Have you made up your mind, my dear?" said Mrs. Garth, laying the
letters down.

"I shall go to the school at York," said Mary. "I am less unfit
to teach in a school than in a family. I like to teach classes best.

And, you see, I must teach: there is nothing else to be done."
"Teaching seems to me the most delightful work in the world,"

said Mrs. Garth, with a touch of rebuke in her tone. "I could
understand your objection to it if you had not knowledge enough,

Mary, or if you disliked children."
"I suppose we never quite understand why another dislikes

what we like, mother," said Mary, rather curtly. "I am
not fond of a schoolroom: I like the outside world better.

It is a very inconvenient fault of mine."
"It must be very stupid to be always in a girls' school," said Alfred.

"Such a set of nincompoops, like Mrs. Ballard's pupils walking two
and two."

"And they have no games worth playing at," said Jim. "They can
neither throw nor leap. I don't wonder at Mary's not liking it."

"What is that Mary doesn't like, eh?" said the father, looking over
his spectacles and pausing before he opened his next letter.

"Being among a lot of nincompoop girls," said Alfred.
"Is it the situation you had heard of, Mary?" said Caleb, gently,

looking at his daughter.
"Yes, father: the school at York. I have determined to take it.

It is quite the best. Thirty-five pounds a-year, and extra pay for
teaching the smallest strummers at the piano."

"Poor child! I wish she could stay at home with us, Susan," said Caleb,
looking plaintively at his wife.

"Mary would not be happy without doing her duty," said Mrs. Garth,
magisterially, conscious of having done her own.

"It wouldn't make me happy to do such a nasty duty as that,"
said Alfred--at which Mary and her father laughed silently,

but Mrs. Garth said, gravely--
"Do find a fitter word than nasty, my dear Alfred, for everything

that you think agreeable" target="_blank" title="a.令人不悦的">disagreeable. And suppose that Mary could help you
to go to Mr. Hanmer's with the money she gets?"

"That seems to me a great shame. But she's an old brick," said Alfred,
rising from his chair, and pulling Mary's head backward to kiss her.

Mary colored and laughed, but could not conceal that the tears
were coming. Caleb, looking on over his spectacles, with the

angles of his eyebrows falling, had an expression of mingled
delight and sorrow as he returned to the opening of his letter;

and even Mrs. Garth, her lips curling with a calm contentment,
allowed that inappropriate language to pass without correction,

although Ben immediately took it up, and sang, "She's an old brick,
old brick, old brick!" to a cantering measure, which he beat out

with his fist on Mary's arm.
But Mrs. Garth's eyes were now drawn towards her husband,

who was already deep in the letter he was reading. His face
had an expression of grave surprise, which alarmed her a little,

but he did not like to be questioned while he was reading, and she
remained anxiously watching till she saw him suddenly shaken by a

little joyous laugh as he turned back to the beginning of the letter,
and looking at her above his spectacles, said, in a low tone,

"What do you think, Susan?"
She went and stood behind him, putting her hand on his shoulder,

while they read the letter together. It was from Sir James Chettam,
offering to Mr. Garth the management of the family estates at Freshitt

and elsewhere, and adding that Sir James had been requested by
Mr. Brooke of Tipton to ascertain whether Mr. Garth would be disposed

at the same time to resume the agency of the Tipton property.
The Baronet added in very obliging words that he himself was

particularly desirous of seeing the Freshitt and Tipton estates under
the same management, and he hoped to be able to show that the double

agency might be held on terms agreeable to Mr. Garth, whom he would
be glad to see at the Hall at twelve o'clock on the following day.

"He writes handsomely, doesn't he, Susan?" said Caleb, turning his
eyes upward to his wife, who raised her hand from his shoulder

to his ear, while she rested her chin on his head. "Brooke didn't
like to ask me himself, I can see," he continued, laughing silently.

"Here is an honor to your father, children," said Mrs. Garth,
looking round at the five pair of eyes, all fixed on the parents.

"He is asked to take a post again by those who dismissed him long ago.
That shows that he did his work well, so that they feel the want

of him."
"Like Cincinnatus--hooray!" said Ben, riding on his chair,

with a pleasant confidence that discipline was relaxed.
"Will they come to fetch him, mother?" said Letty, thinking of

the Mayor and Corporation in their robes.
Mrs. Garth patted Letty's head and smiled, but seeing that her

husband was gathering up his letters and likely soon to be out
of reach in that sanctuary "business," she pressed his shoulder

and said emphatically--
"Now, mind you ask fair pay, Caleb."

"Oh yes," said Caleb, in a deep voice of assent, as if it would be
unreasonable to suppose anything else of him. "It'll come to between

four and five hundred, the two together." Then with a little start
of remembrance he said, "Mary, write and give up that school.

Stay and help your mother. I'm as pleased as Punch, now I've
thought of that."

No manner could have been less like that of Punch triumphant
than Caleb's, but his talents did not lie in finding phrases,

though he was very particular about his letter-writing, and regarded
his wife as a treasury of correct language.