Snitchey, who was
a good-natured man, 'if I could believe that Mr. Warden was
reckoning without his host; but, light-headed, capricious, and
unballasted as he is, he knows something of the world and its
people (he ought to, for he has bought what he does know, dear
enough); and I can't quite think that. We had better not
interfere: we can do nothing, Mr. Craggs, but keep quiet.'
'Nothing,' returned Craggs.
'Our friend the Doctor makes light of such things,' said Mr.
Snitchey, shaking his head. 'I hope he mayn't stand in need of his
philosophy. Our friend Alfred talks of the battle of life,' he
shook his head again, 'I hope he mayn't be cut down early in the
day. Have you got your hat, Mr. Craggs? I am going to put the
other candle out.' Mr. Craggs replying in the affirmative, Mr.
Snitchey suited the action to the word, and they groped their way
out of the council-chamber, now dark as the subject, or the law in
general.
My story passes to a quiet little study, where, on that same night,
the sisters and the hale old Doctor sat by a cheerful fireside.
Grace was working at her needle. Marion read aloud from a book
before her. The Doctor, in his dressing-gown and slippers, with
his feet spread out upon the warm rug, leaned back in his easy-
chair, and listened to the book, and looked upon his daughters.
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