“I know I am right; the experience has been the growth of years too. All our efforts to escape the odious contact of these people have multiplied our expenses. Where one man used to suffice, we keep three. You yourself, who felt it no indignity to go out a-fishing formerly with a chance traveller, have to own with what reserve and caution you would accept such companionship now.”
“Nay, nay, Dinah, not exactly so far as that—”
“And why not? Was it not less than a fortnight ago three Birmingham men crossed the threshold, calling out for old Peter,—was old Peter to the good yet?”
“They were a little elevated with wine, sister, remember that; and, besides, they never knew, never had heard of me in my once condition.”
“And are we so changed that they cannot recognize the class we pertain to?”
“Not you, Dinah, certainly not you; but I frankly own I can put up with rudeness and incivility better than a certain showy courtesy some vulgar people practise towards me. In the one case I feel I am not known, and my secret is safe. In the other, I have to stand out as the ruined gentleman, and I am not always sure that I play the part as gracefully as I ought.”
“Let us leave emotions, Peter, and descend to the lowland of arithmetic, by giving up two boatmen, John and Terry—”
“Poor Terry!” sighed he, with a faint, low accent
“Oh! if it be 'poor Terry!' I 've done,” said she, closing the book, and throwing it down with a slap that made him start.
“Nay, dear Dinah; but if we could manage to let him have something,—say five shillings a week,—he 'd not need it long; and the port wine that was doing his rheumatism such good is nearly finished; he'll miss it sorely.”