"In course, sir, all gumptious folks are; they value themselves on their respectability, and looks down on their neighbors."
Parson (still philologically occupied). "Gumptious—gumptious. I think I remember the substantive at school—not that my master taught it to me. 'Gumption,' it means cleverness."
Landlord, (doggedly).—"There's gumption and gumptious! Gumption is knowing; but when I say sum un is gumptious, I mean—though that's more vulgar like—sum un who does not think small beer of hisself. You take me, sir?"
"I think I do," said the Parson, half-smiling. "I believe the Avenels have only two of their children alive still—their daughter, who married Mark Fairfield, and a son who went off to America?"
"Ah, but he made his fortune there, and has come back."
"Indeed! I'm very glad to hear it. He has settled at Lansmere?"
"No, sir. I hear as he's bought a property a long way off. But he comes to see his parents pretty often—so John tells me—but I can't say that I ever see him. I fancy Dick doesn't like to be seen by folks who remember him playing in the kennel."
"Not unnatural," said the Parson indulgently; "but he visits his parents; he is a good son, at all events, then?"
"I've nothing to say against him. Dick was a wild chap before he took himself off. I never thought he would make his fortune; but the Avenels are a clever set. Do you remember poor Nora—the Rose of Lansmere, as they called her? Ah, no, I think she went up to Lunnun afore your time, sir."
"Humph!" said the Parson drily. "Well, I think you may take away now. It will be dark soon, and I'll just stroll out and look about me."