He found himself between two fat farmers, and this was the conversation--broad Lincolnshire, of course: 'Did tha hear Lady Mildred Wharton say them things, Willum ?' 'Aye, a did.' 'What did tha think, Willum ?' 'What did _tha_ think, George ?' 'Wal, _aa_ thowt Laady Mildred Wharton wor a graaet fule, Willum, if tha asks me.' 'I'll uphowd tha, George! I'll uphowd tha!' said the other, and then they talked no more for the rest of the journey." The friend laughed.
"So it was from the dear mamma that the young man got his opinions ?" "Of course.

She dragged him into every absurdity she could from the time he was fifteen.

When the husband died she tried to get the servants to come in to meals, but the butler struck.

So did Wharton himself, who, for a Socialist, has always showed a very pretty turn for comfort.

I am bound to say he was cut up when she died.