“But would he?  His father and mother wanted him to be a fine gentleman, and I think he has the same sort of feeling himself.  They all think us beneath them.  And if the proposal came from you, I am sure Mrs. Vincy would say that we wanted Fred for Mary.”

“Life is a poor tale, if it is to be settled by nonsense of that sort,” said Caleb, with disgust.

“Yes, but there is a certain pride which is proper, Caleb.”

“I call it improper pride to let fools’ notions hinder you from doing a good action.  There’s no sort of work,” said Caleb, with fervor, putting out his hand and moving it up and down to mark his emphasis, “that could ever be done well, if you minded what fools say.  You must have it inside you that your plan is right, and that plan you must follow.”

“I will not oppose any plan you have set your mind on, Caleb,” said Mrs. Garth, who was a firm woman, but knew that there were some points on which her mild husband was yet firmer.  “Still, it seems to be fixed that Fred is to go back to college:  will it not be better to wait and see what he will choose to do after that?  It is not easy to keep people against their will.  And you are not yet quite sure enough of your own position, or what you will want.”

“Well, it may be better to wait a bit.  But as to my getting plenty of work for two, I’m pretty sure of that.  I’ve always had my hands full with scattered things, and there’s always something fresh turning up.  Why, only yesterday—­bless me, I don’t think I told you!—­it was rather odd that two men should have been at me on different sides to do the same bit of valuing.  And who do you think they were?” said Caleb, taking a pinch of snuff and holding it up between his fingers, as if it were a part of his exposition.  He was fond of a pinch when it occurred to him, but he usually forgot that this indulgence was at his command.

His wife held down her knitting and looked attentive.

“Why, that Rigg, or Rigg Featherstone, was one.  But Bulstrode was before him, so I’m going to do it for Bulstrode.  Whether it’s mortgage or purchase they’re going for, I can’t tell yet.”

“Can that man be going to sell the land just left him—­which he has taken the name for?” said Mrs. Garth.

“Deuce knows,” said Caleb, who never referred the knowledge of discreditable doings to any higher power than the deuce.  “But Bulstrode has long been wanting to get a handsome bit of land under his fingers—­that I know.  And it’s a difficult matter to get, in this part of the country.”

Caleb scattered his snuff carefully instead of taking it, and then added, “The ins and outs of things are curious.  Here is the land they’ve been all along expecting for Fred, which it seems the old man never meant to leave him a foot of, but left it to this side-slip of a son that he kept in the dark, and thought of his sticking there and vexing everybody as well as he could have vexed ’em himself if he could have kept alive.  I say, it would be curious if it got into Bulstrode’s hands after all.  The old man hated him, and never would bank with him.”