“Deuce take the man!” exclaimed my aunt. “Always fishing for motives, when they’re on the surface! Why, to make the child happy and useful.”

“It must be a mixed motive, I think,” said Mr. Wickfield, shaking his head and smiling incredulously.

“A mixed fiddlestick,” returned my aunt. “You claim to have one plain motive in all you do yourself. You don’t suppose, I hope, that you are the only plain dealer in the world?”

“Ay, but I have only one motive in life, Miss Trotwood,” he rejoined, smiling. “Other people have dozens, scores, hundreds. I have only one. There’s the difference. However, that’s beside the question. The best school? Whatever the motive, you want the best?”

My aunt nodded assent.