The Coachmaster 



he often said, and heartily believed, that he 

 had never met with anything but love and 

 kindness all his life : and neither argument 

 nor lauo-hter could ever shake him in his 

 stubbornly happy faith. 



"Why, you old stupid," said my Mother 

 more than once, half-peevish, half-amused, 

 "won't you ever remember? There's 

 that old scoundrel, Tommy Larkins, bor- 

 rowed ^50 of you, and never pays a penny 

 of it though he drives his own coaches now ; 

 and there's that young rogue, young Pen- 

 fold, that robbed you when you were so 

 ill — he and his folks have been living on 

 you, time out of mind." And, indeed, 

 there were not a few memories of inofrati- 

 tude and mean action towards this simple 

 generous soul stored away in my Mother's 

 loyal heart, and bitter enough upon her 

 tongue at times. But her words made less 

 impression upon him than water may upon 

 the duck's back. 



"Aye, mother, how you do talk, love ! " 

 he would interrupt her, shaking his head. 

 " Jack Penfold a rogue indeed ! little Jack- 

 anapes, I used to call him," with a plea- 

 sant laugh at old memories. " Why, my 

 tender soul, I've known his father, and 

 mother too for that matter, this forty year 

 come Michaelmas, nicest people as ever 

 66 



