The Essential Works of George Eliot. George Eliot

eh, Tulliver? The clergymen have highish notions, in general,” said Mr. Deane, taking snuff vigorously, as he always did when wishing to maintain a neutral position.

      “What! do you think the parson’ll teach him to know a good sample o’ wheat when he sees it, neighbor Tulliver?” said Mr. Glegg, who was fond of his jest, and having retired from business, felt that it was not only allowable but becoming in him to take a playful view of things.

      “Why, you see, I’ve got a plan i’ my head about Tom,” said Mr. Tulliver, pausing after that statement and lifting up his glass.

      “Well, if I may be allowed to speak, and it’s seldom as I am,” said Mrs. Glegg, with a tone of bitter meaning, “I should like to know what good is to come to the boy by bringin’ him up above his fortin.”

      “Why,” said Mr. Tulliver, not looking at Mrs. Glegg, but at the male part of his audience, “you see, I’ve made up my mind not to bring Tom up to my own business. I’ve had my thoughts about it all along, and I made up my mind by what I saw with Garnett and his son. I mean to put him to some business as he can go into without capital, and I want to give him an eddication as he’ll be even wi’ the lawyers and folks, and put me up to a notion now an’ then.”

      Mrs. Glegg emitted a long sort of guttural sound with closed lips, that smiled in mingled pity and scorn.

      “It ’ud be a fine deal better for some people,” she said, after that introductory note, “if they’d let the lawyers alone.”

      “Is he at the head of a grammar school, then, this clergyman, such as that at Market Bewley?” said Mr. Deane.

      “No, nothing of that,” said Mr. Tulliver. “He won’t take more than two or three pupils, and so he’ll have the more time to attend to ’em, you know.”

      “Ah, and get his eddication done the sooner; they can’t learn much at a time when there’s so many of ’em,” said uncle Pullet, feeling that he was getting quite an insight into this difficult matter.

      “But he’ll want the more pay, I doubt,” said Mr. Glegg.

      “Ay, ay, a cool hundred a year, that’s all,” said Mr. Tulliver, with some pride at his own spirited course. “But then, you know, it’s an investment; Tom’s eddication ’ull be so much capital to him.”

      “Ay, there’s something in that,” said Mr. Glegg. “Well well, neighbor Tulliver, you may be right, you may be right:

      ‘When land is gone and money’s spent,

      Then learning is most excellent.’

      “I remember seeing those two lines wrote on a window at Buxton. But us that have got no learning had better keep our money, eh, neighbor Pullet?” Mr. Glegg rubbed his knees, and looked very pleasant.

      “Mr. Glegg, I wonder at you,” said his wife. “It’s very unbecoming in a man o’ your age and belongings.”

      “What’s unbecoming, Mrs. G.?” said Mr. Glegg, winking pleasantly at the company. “My new blue coat as I’ve got on?”

      “I pity your weakness, Mr. Glegg. I say it’s unbecoming to be making a joke when you see your own kin going headlongs to ruin.”

      “If you mean me by that,” said Mr. Tulliver, considerably nettled, “you needn’t trouble yourself to fret about me. I can manage my own affairs without troubling other folks.”

      “Bless me!” said Mr. Deane, judiciously introducing a new idea, “why, now I come to think of it, somebody said Wakem was going to send his son—the deformed lad—to a clergyman, didn’t they, Susan?” (appealing to his wife).

      “I can give no account of it, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Deane, closing her lips very tightly again. Mrs. Deane was not a woman to take part in a scene where missiles were flying.

      “Well,” said Mr. Tulliver, speaking all the more cheerfully, that Mrs. Glegg might see he didn’t mind her, “if Wakem thinks o’ sending his son to a clergyman, depend on it I shall make no mistake i’ sending Tom to one. Wakem’s as big a scoundrel as Old Harry ever made, but he knows the length of every man’s foot he’s got to deal with. Ay, ay, tell me who’s Wakem’s butcher, and I’ll tell you where to get your meat.”

      “But lawyer Wakem’s son’s got a hump-back,” said Mrs. Pullet, who felt as if the whole business had a funereal aspect; “it’s more nat’ral to send him to a clergyman.”

      “Yes,” said Mr. Glegg, interpreting Mrs. Pullet’s observation with erroneous plausibility, “you must consider that, neighbor Tulliver; Wakem’s son isn’t likely to follow any business. Wakem ’ull make a gentleman of him, poor fellow.”

      “Mr. Glegg,” said Mrs. G., in a tone which implied that her indignation would fizz and ooze a little, though she was determined to keep it corked up, “you’d far better hold your tongue. Mr. Tulliver doesn’t want to know your opinion nor mine either. There’s folks in the world as know better than everybody else.”

      “Why, I should think that’s you, if we’re to trust your own tale,” said Mr. Tulliver, beginning to boil up again.

      “Oh, I say nothing,” said Mrs. Glegg, sarcastically. “My advice has never been asked, and I don’t give it.”

      “It’ll be the first time, then,” said Mr. Tulliver. “It’s the only thing you’re over-ready at giving.”

      “I’ve been over-ready at lending, then, if I haven’t been over-ready at giving,” said Mrs. Glegg. “There’s folks I’ve lent money to, as perhaps I shall repent o’ lending money to kin.”

      “Come, come, come,” said Mr. Glegg, soothingly. But Mr. Tulliver was not to be hindered of his retort.

      “You’ve got a bond for it, I reckon,” he said; “and you’ve had your five per cent, kin or no kin.”

      “Sister,” said Mrs. Tulliver, pleadingly, “drink your wine, and let me give you some almonds and raisins.”

      “Bessy, I’m sorry for you,” said Mrs. Glegg, very much with the feeling of a cur that seizes the opportunity of diverting his bark toward the man who carries no stick. “It’s poor work talking o’ almonds and raisins.”

      “Lors, sister Glegg, don’t be so quarrelsome,” said Mrs. Pullet, beginning to cry a little. “You may be struck with a fit, getting so red in the face after dinner, and we are but just out o’ mourning, all of us,—and all wi’ gowns craped alike and just put by; it’s very bad among sisters.”

      “I should think it is bad,” said Mrs. Glegg. “Things are come to a fine pass when one sister invites the other to her house o’ purpose to quarrel with her and abuse her.”

      “Softly, softly, Jane; be reasonable, be reasonable,” said Mr. Glegg.

      But while he was speaking, Mr. Tulliver, who had by no means said enough to satisfy his anger, burst out again.

      “Who wants to quarrel with you?” he said. “It’s you as can’t let people alone, but must be gnawing at ’em forever. I should never want to quarrel with any woman if she kept her place.”

      “My place, indeed!” said Mrs. Glegg, getting rather more shrill. “There’s your betters, Mr. Tulliver, as are dead and in their grave, treated me with a different sort o’ respect to what you do; though I’ve got a husband as’ll sit by and see me abused by them as ’ud never ha’ had the chance if there hadn’t been them in our family as married worse than they might ha’ done.”

      “If you talk o’ that,” said Mr. Tulliver, “my family’s as good as yours, and better, for it hasn’t got a damned ill-tempered woman in it!”

      “Well,” said Mrs. Glegg, rising from her chair, “I don’t know whether you think it’s a fine thing to sit by and hear