They’ll take suggestion as a cat laps milk. —SHAKESPEARE: Tempest. The triumphant confidence of the Mayor founded on Mr.
Featherstone’s insistent demand that Fred and his mother should not leave him, was a feeble emotion compared with all that was agitating the breasts of the old man’s blood-relations, who naturally manifested more their sense of the family tie and were more visibly numerous now that he had become bedridden.
Naturally: for when 'poor Peter' had occupied his arm-chair in the wainscoted parlor, no assiduous beetles for whom the cook prepares boiling water could have been less welcome on a hearth which they had reasons for preferring, than those persons whose Featherstone blood was ill-nourished, not from penuriousness on their part, but from poverty.
Brother Solomon and Sister Jane were rich, and the family candor and total abstinence from false politeness with which they were always received seemed to them no argument that their brother in the solemn act of making his will would overlook the superior claims of wealth.
Themselves at least he had never been unnatural enough to banish from his house, and it seemed hardly eccentric that he should have kept away Brother Jonah, Sister Martha, and the rest, who had no shadow of such claims.
They knew Peter’s maxim, that money was a good egg, and should be laid in a warm nest. But Brother Jonah, Sister Martha, and all the needy exiles, held a different point of view.
Probabilities are as various as the faces to be seen at will in fretwork or paper-hangings: every form is there, from Jupiter to Judy, if you only look with creative inclination.
To the poorer and least favored it seemed likely that since Peter had done nothing for them in his life, he would remember them at the last.