"Oh, he eats us out of house and home--such an appetite! But as to a
profession, what is he fit for? He will never be a scholar."

Randal nodded a moody assent; for, indeed, Oliver had been sent to
Cambridge, and supported there out of Randal's income from his official
pay; and Oliver had been plucked for his Little Go.

"There is the army," said the elder brother,--" a gentleman's calling.
How handsome Juliet ought to be--but--I left money for masters--and she
pronounces French like a chambermaid."

"Yet she is fond of her book too. She's always reading, and good for
nothing else."

"Reading! those trashy novels!"

"So like you,--you always come to scold, and make things unpleasant,"
said Mrs. Leslie, peevishly. "You are grown too fine for us, and I am
sure we suffer affronts enough from others, not to want a little respect
from our own children."

"I did not mean to affront you," said Randal, sadly. "Pardon me. But
who else has done so?"

Then Mrs. Leslie went into a minute and most irritating catalogue of all
the mortifications and insults she had received; the grievances of a
petty provincial family, with much pretension and small power,--of all
people, indeed, without the disposition to please--without the ability to
serve--who exaggerate every offence, and are thankful for no kindness.