on any career with credit. There may be some clergymen who are mere bookmen; but you may depend upon it, Stelling is not one of them - a man that's wide awake, let me tell you. Drop him a hint and that's enough. You talk of figures, now: you have only to say to Stelling, `I want my son to be a thorough arithmetician,' and you may leave the rest to him.'
Mr Riley paused a moment, while Mr Tulliver, somewhat reassured as to clerical tutorship, was inwardly rehearsing to an imaginary Mr Stelling the statement, `I want my son to know 'rethmetic.'
`You see, my dear Tulliver,' Mr Riley continued, `when you get a thoroughly educated man, like Stelling, he's at no loss to take up any branch of instruction. When a workman knows the use of his tools, he can make a door as well as a window.'
`Ay, that's true,' said Mr Tulliver, almost convinced now that the clergy must be the best of schoolmasters.
`Well, I'll tell you what I'll do for you,' said Mr Riley, `and I wouldn't do it for everybody. I'll see Stelling's father-in-law or drop him a line when I get back to Mudport to say that you wish to place your boy with his son-in-law, and I daresay Stelling will write to you, and send you his terms.'
`But there's no hurry, is there?' said Mrs Tulliver, `for I hope, Mr Tulliver, you won't let Tom begin at his new school before Midsummer. He began at the 'Cademy at the Ladyday quarter, and you see what good's come of it.'
`Ay, ay, Bessy, never brew wi' bad malt upo' Michaelmas day, else you'll have a poor tap,' said Mr Tulliver, winking and smiling at Mr Riley with the natural pride of a man who has a buxom wife conspicuously his inferior in intellect. `But it's true there's no hurry - you've hit it there, Bessy.'
`It might be as well not to defer the arrangement too long,' said Mr Riley, quietly, `for Stelling may have propositions from other parties, and I know he would not take more than two or three boarders, if so many. If I were you, I think I would enter on the subject with Stelling at once: there's no necessity for sending the boy before Midsummer, but I would be on the safe side, and make sure that nobody forestalls you.'
`Ay, there's summat i' that,' said Mr Tulliver.
`Father,' broke in Maggie, who had stolen unperceived to her father's elbow again, listening with parted lips, while she held her doll topsy-turvy and crushed its nose against the wood of the chair, `Father, is it a long way off where Tom is to go? Shan't we ever go to see him?'
`I don't know, my wench,' said the father, tenderly. `Ask Mr Riley, he knows.'
`Maggie came round promptly in front of Mr Riley, and said, `How far is it, please Sir?'
`O a long way off,' that gentleman answered, being of opinion that children when they are not naughty, should always be spoken to jocosely. `You must borrow the seven-leagued boots to get to him.'
`That's nonsense!' said Maggie, tossing her head haughtily and turning away with the tears springing in her eyes. She began to dislike Mr Riley: it was evident he thought her silly and of no consequence.
`Hush, Maggie, for shame of you, asking questions and chattering,' said her mother. `Come and sit down on your little stool and hold your tongue, do. But,' added Mrs Tulliver, who had her own alarm awakened, `is it so far off as I couldn't wash him and mend him?'
`About fifteen miles - that's all,' said Mr Riley. `You can drive there and back in a day quite comfortably. Or, Stelling is a hospitable, pleasant man; he'd be glad to have you stay.'
`But it's too far off for the linen, I doubt,' said Mrs Tulliver, sadly.