born with a wooden spoon in your mouth, depend on it."
"I believe you; and I mean to make my wooden spoon do the work of some people's silver ladles: grasped firmly, and handled nimbly, even a wooden spoon will shovel up broth."
Hunsden rose: "I see," said he; "I suppose you're one of those who develope best unwatched, and act best unaided—work your own way. Now, I'll go." And, without another word, he was going; at the door he turned:
"Crimsworth Hall is sold," said he.
"Sold!" was my echo.
"Yes; you know, of course, that your brother failed three months ago?"
"What! Edward Crimsworth?"
"Precisely; and his wife went home to her father's; when affairs went awry, his temper sympathized with them; he used her ill; I told you he would be a tyrant to her some day; as to him———"
