Barnet's position in the town was none of his own making; his father had been a very successful flax-merchant in the same place, where the trade was still carried on as briskly as the small capacities of its quarters would allow.

Having acquired a fair fortune, old Mr.Barnet had retired from business, bringing up his son as a gentleman-burgher, and, it must be added, as a well-educated, liberal-minded young man.
'How is Mrs.Barnet ?' asked Downe.
'Mrs.Barnet was very well when I left home,' the other answered constrainedly, exchanging his meditative regard of the horse for one of self-consciousness.
Mr.Downe seemed to regret his inquiry, and immediately took up another thread of conversation.

He congratulated his friend on his election as a council-man; he thought he had not seen him since that event took place; Mrs.Downe had meant to call and congratulate Mrs.Barnet, but he feared that she had failed to do so as yet.
Barnet seemed hampered in his replies.

'We should have been glad to see you.

I--my wife would welcome Mrs.Downe at any time, as you know.