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ON HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD 513
the piano, and soothe the rising anger ; and then Philip would come
in from a little walk in the shrubberies, where he had been blowing
a little cloud. Ah ! there was a little cloud rising indeed :—quite
a little one—nay, not so little. When you consider that Philip's
bread depended on the goodwill of these people, you will allow
that his friends might be anxious regarding the future. A word
from Mugford, and Philip and Charlotte and the child were
adrift on the world. And these points Mr. Firmin would freely
admit, while he stood discoursing of his own affairs (as he loved
to do), his hands in his pockets, and his back warming at our
fire. " My dear fellow," says the candid bridegroom, " these things
are constantly in my head. I used to talk about 'em to Char, but
I don't now. They disturb her, the poor thing ; and she clutches
hold of the baby ; and—and it tears my heart out to think that
any grief should come to her. I try and do my best, my good
people—but when I'm bored I can't help showing I'm bored, don't
you see ? I can't be a hypocrite. No, not for two hundred a year,
or for twenty thousand. You can't make a silk purse out of that
sow's-ear of a Mugford. A very good man. I don't say no. A
good father, a good husband, a generous host, and a most tremendous
bore, and cad. Be agreeable to him ? How can I be agreeable
when I am being killed ? He has a story about Leigh Hunt being
put into Newgate, where Mugford, bringing him proofs, saw Lord
Byron. I cannot keep awake during that story any longer ; or, if
awake, I grind my teeth, and swear inwardly, so that I know I'm
dreadful to hear and see. Well, Mugford has yellow satin sofas in
the ' droaring-room' __________ "
" Oh, Philip !" says a lady ; and two or three circumjacent
children set up an insane giggle, which is speedily and sternly
silenced.
" I tell you she calls it ' droaring-room.' You know she does,
as well as I do. She is a good woman : a kind woman : a hottempered
woman. I hear her scolding the servants in the kitchen
with immense vehemence, and at prodigious length. But how can
Char frankly be the friend of a woman who calls a drawing-room a
droaring-room ? With our dear little friend in Thornhaugh Street,
it is different. She makes no pretence even at equality. Here is
a patron and patroness, don't you see ? When Mugford walks me
round his paddock and gardens, and says, ' Look year, Firmin;' or
scratches one of his pigs on the back, and says, 'We'll 'ave a cut of
this fellow on Saturday' "—(explosive attempts at insubordination
and derision on the part of the children again are severely checked
by the parental authorities)—" ' we'll 'ave a cut of this fellow on
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