Sons and daughters, indeed! They are a bitter pleasure, they are that.

Here's John getting on to thirty years old, and I never knew it in his shoes to run after a girl before--but there--I'm down-daunted with the changes that will have to come--yes, that will have to come--well, well, life is just a hurry-push! One trouble after another--that's John's horse, I know its gallop, and it is high time he was here, it is that.

Besides, it's dribbling rain, and I wouldn't wonder if it was teeming down in half an hour--and there's Tom crying for all he's worth--I may as well let him in--come in, Tom!"-- and Tom walked in with an independent air to the rug and lay down by John's footstool.

Indeed, his attitude was impudent enough to warrant Mrs.
Hatton's threat to "turn him out-of-doors, if he did not carry himself more like a decent cat and less like a blackguard." The creature knew well enough what was said to him.

He lay prone on the rug, with his head on his forepaws, watching Mrs.Hatton; and she was a little uncomfortable and glad when John entered the room.