“Very well,” smiled Mrs. Badger, “we will say still young.”

“Undoubtedly,” said Mr. Badger.

“My dears, though still young, I have had many opportunities of observing young men.  There were many such on board the dear old Crippler, I assure you.  After that, when I was with Captain Swosser in the Mediterranean, I embraced every opportunity of knowing and befriending the midshipmen under Captain Swosser’s command.  You never heard them called the young gentlemen, my dears, and probably would not understand allusions to their pipe-claying their weekly accounts, but it is otherwise with me, for blue water has been a second home to me, and I have been quite a sailor.  Again, with Professor Dingo.”

“A man of European reputation,” murmured Mr. Badger.

“When I lost my dear first and became the wife of my dear second,” said Mrs. Badger, speaking of her former husbands as if they were parts of a charade, “I still enjoyed opportunities of observing youth.  The class attendant on Professor Dingo’s lectures was a large one, and it became my pride, as the wife of an eminent scientific man seeking herself in science the utmost consolation it could impart, to throw our house open to the students as a kind of Scientific Exchange.  Every Tuesday evening there was lemonade and a mixed biscuit for all who chose to partake of those refreshments.  And there was science to an unlimited extent.”

“Remarkable assemblies those, Miss Summerson,” said Mr. Badger reverentially.  “There must have been great intellectual friction going on there under the auspices of such a man!”

“And now,” pursued Mrs. Badger, “now that I am the wife of my dear third, Mr. Badger, I still pursue those habits of observation which were formed during the lifetime of Captain Swosser and adapted to new and unexpected purposes during the lifetime of Professor Dingo.  I therefore have not come to the consideration of Mr. Carstone as a neophyte.  And yet I am very much of the opinion, my dears, that he has not chosen his profession advisedly.”

Ada looked so very anxious now that I asked Mrs. Badger on what she founded her supposition.

“My dear Miss Summerson,” she replied, “on Mr. Carstone’s character and conduct.  He is of such a very easy disposition that probably he would never think it worth-while to mention how he really feels, but he feels languid about the profession.  He has not that positive interest in it which makes it his vocation.  If he has any decided impression in reference to it, I should say it was that it is a tiresome pursuit.  Now, this is not promising.  Young men like Mr. Allan Woodcourt who take it from a strong interest in all that it can do will find some reward in it through a great deal of work for a very little money and through years of considerable endurance and disappointment.  But I am quite convinced that this would never be the case with Mr. Carstone.”