Mr Riley's gravity gave way, and he shook a little under the application of his pinch of snuff, before he said, `But your lad's not stupid, is he? I saw him, when I was here last, busy making fishing-tackle; he seemed quite up to it.'
`Well, he isn't not to say stupid - he's got a notion o'things out o'
door, an' a sort o' commonsense, as he'd lay hold o' things by the right handle.But he's slow with his tongue, you see, and he reads but poorly, and can't abide the books, and spells all wrong, they tell me, an' as shy as can be wi' strangers, an' you never hear him say 'cute things like the little wench.Now, what I want is, to send him to a school where they'll make him a bit nimble with his tongue and his pen, and make a smart chap of him.I want my son to be even wi' these fellows as have got the start o' me with having better schooling.Not but what, if the world had been left as God made it, I could ha' seen my way and held my own wi' the best of'em; but things have got so twisted round and wrapped up i' unreasonable words, as arn't a bit like 'em, as I'm clean at fault, often an' often.
Everything winds about so - the more straightforrard you are, the more you're puzzled.'
Mr Tulliver took a draught, swallowed it slowly, and shook his head in a melancholy manner, conscious of exemplifying the truth that a perfectly sane intellect is hardly at home in this insane world.
`You're quite in the right of it, Tulliver,' observed Mr Riley.`Better Spend an extra hundred or two on your son's education than leave it him in your will.I know I should have tried to do so by a son of mine, if I'd had one, though, God knows, I haven't your ready money to play with, Tulliver; and I have a houseful of daughters into the bargain.'
`I daresay, now, you know of a school as 'ud be just the thing for Tom,'
Said Mr Tulliver, not diverted from his purpose by any sympathy with Mr Riley's deficiency of ready cash.
Mr Riley took a pinch of snuff and kept Mr Tulliver in suspense by a silence that seemed deliberative, before he said, `I know of a very fine chance for any one that's got the necessary money, and that's what you have, Tulliver.The fact is, I wouldn't recommend any friend of mine to send a boy to a regular school, if he could afford to do better.But if any one wanted his boy to get superior instruction and training, where he would be the companion of his master, and that master a first-rate fellow - I know his man.I wouldn't mention the chance to everybody, because I don't think everybody would succeed in getting it, if he were to try: but I mention it to you, Tulliver - between ourselves.'
The fixed inquiring glance with which Mr Tulliver had been watching his friend's oracular face became quite eager.
`Ay, now, let's hear,' he said, adjusting himself in his chair with the complacency of a person who is thought worthy of important communications.
`He's an Oxford man,' said Mr Riley, sententiously, shutting his mouth close and looking at Mr Tulliver to observe the effect of this stimulating information.
`What! a parson?' said Mr Tulliver, rather doubtfully.
`Yes - and an M.A.The bishop, I understand, thinks very highly of him:
why, it was the bishop who got him his present curacy.'
`Ah?' said Mr Tulliver, to whom one thing was as wonderful as another concerning these unfamiliar phenomena.`But what can he want wi' Tom, then?'
`Why, the fact is, he's fond of teaching, and wishes to keep up his studies, and a clergyman has but little opportunity for that in his parochial duties.He's willing to take one or two boys as pupils to fill up his time profitably.The boys would be quite of the family - the finest thing in the world for them - under Stelling's eye continually.'
`But do you think they'd give the poor lad twice o' pudding?' said Mrs Tulliver, who was now in her place again.`He's such a boy for pudding as never was; an' a growing boy like that - it's dreadful to think o' their stintin' him.'
`And what money 'ud he want?' said Mr Tulliver, whose instinct told him that the services of this admirable M.A.would bear a high price.
`Why, I know of a clergyman who asks a hundred and fifty with his youngest pupils, and he's not to be mentioned with Stelling, the man I speak of.
I know on good authority that one of the chief people at Oxford said, `Stelling might get the highest honours if he chose.' But he didn't care about university honours.He's a quiet man - not showy, not noisy.'
`Ah, a deal better, a deal better,' said Mr Tulliver.`But a hundred and fifty's an uncommon price.I never thought o' payin' so much as that.'
`A good education, let me tell you, Tulliver - a good education is cheap at the money.But Stelling is moderate in his terms - he's not a grasping man.I've no doubt he'd take your boy at a hundred, and that's what you wouldn't get many other clergymen to do.I'll write to him about it, if you like.'
Mr Tulliver rubbed his knees and looked at the carpet in a meditative manner.
`But belike he's a bachelor,' observed Mrs Tulliver in the interval, `an' I've no opinion o' housekeepers.There was my brother as is dead an'
gone had a housekeeper once, an'she took half the feathers out o' the best bed an' packed em'up an' sent 'em away.An' it's unknown the linen she made away with - Stott her name was.It 'ud break my heart to send Tom where there's a housekeeper, an' I hope you won't think of it, Mr Tulliver.'
`You may set your mind at rest on that score, Mrs Tulliver,' said Mr Riley, `for Stelling is married to as nice a little woman as any man need wish for a wife.There isn't a kinder little soul in the world; I know her family well.She has very much your complexion - light curly hair.
She comes of a good Mudport family, and it's not every offer that would have been acceptable in that quarter.But Stelling's not an everyday man.
Rather a particular fellow as to the people he chooses to be connected with.But I think he would have no objection to take your son -I think he would not, on my representation.'
