But," added Mrs.Tulliver, who had her own alarm awakened, "is it so far off as I couldn't wash him and mend him ?" "About fifteen miles; that's all," said Mr.Riley.

"You can drive there and back in a day quite comfortably.

Or--Stelling is a hospitable, pleasant man--he'd be glad to have you stay." "But it's too far off for the linen, I doubt," said Mrs.Tulliver, sadly.
The entrance of supper opportunely adjourned this difficulty, and relieved Mr.Riley from the labor of suggesting some solution or compromise,--a labor which he would otherwise doubtless have undertaken; for, as you perceive, he was a man of very obliging manners.

And he had really given himself the trouble of recommending Mr.Stelling to his friend Tulliver without any positive expectation of a solid, definite advantage resulting to himself, notwithstanding the subtle indications to the contrary which might have misled a too-sagacious observer.

For there is nothing more widely misleading than sagacity if it happens to get on a wrong scent; and sagacity, persuaded that men usually act and speak from distinct motives, with a consciously proposed end in view, is certain to waste its energies on imaginary game.
Plotting covetousness and deliberate contrivance, in order to compass a selfish end, are nowhere abundant but in the world of the dramatist: they demand too intense a mental action for many of our fellow-parishioners to be guilty of them.