the pleasure of baptising her by her herbaceous name, so you ought to know.
The Rector exchanged glances with his wife, whose face wore a very pitiable look.
I have yes certainly often said that Miss Portlock was a very good, sensible girl, he said at last.
Well, then, what more do you want, sir? I suppose you expect a man to think about such things at some time in his life?
But have you proposed for her hand? said his mother, faintly.
Proposed for her hand? Nonsense, mamma. People of their class dont understand things in that light.
This was a false move, and the Rector took advantage of the slip.
People of that class, sir? Then you acknowledge that you are degrading yourself by these proceedings.
Oh, I dont know about degrading myself, sir. You know what they say. If a lady marries her groom she descends to his level. If a man marries his cook he raises her to his.
But does Mr Portlock my Churchwarden know of your intentions?
How can he, said Cyril, coolly, when I have none?
But Mrs Portlock believes that you are paying your attentions to her niece.
Yes, I spose so, he replied. Terribly silly woman.
Oh, Cyril, Cyril, said his mother, this is very, very shocking.
Stuff and nonsense, mamma. Why, what a tremendous fuss about a little bit of flirtation with a pretty little schoolmistress. You nearly had her sister for a daughter-in-law when Frank was after her.
Frank saw the folly of his proceedings, and grew sensible, said the Rector.
Oh, did he! muttered Cyril.
The word flirtation, Cyril, said the Rector firmly, is a disgrace to our civilisation, and one that ought certainly to be heard from no decent lips.
Matter of opinion, of course, said Cyril; and he placed his hands under his head and stared straight out of the window, while the Rector and his wife exchanged glances.
Cyril, said the former at last, after a struggle to keep down his anger, I will not quarrel with you.
Thats right, governor. I hate quarrelling.
But while you are under my roof I must be obeyed.
Dont think any man has a more obedient son, replied Cyril.
The time, however, has now come when some plan must be devised for you to make a fresh start in life upon your own account.
Pon my word, father, I dont see it. Im very comfortable as I am.
But I am not, sir, replied his father, firmly. For years past it has been thrown in my teeth that I am rightly named Eli. You know why. It is time, now, sir, that we took care not to be ashamed of the enemy in the gate.
Please dont preach, father, said the young man, in a tone of protestation.
The Rector paid no attention to his words, but went on
Let me ask you first, he said, one question.
Go on, said the young man, for his father had stopped.
Has Miss Portlock accepted your attentions?
There was a pause here. I say, Cyril, has Miss Portlock accepted your attentions?
Matter of confidence, replied the young man. Question I would rather not answer.
Then she has not, said the Rector, quickly, and I am very, very glad.
Why, father?
Because, as I have told you before, she is receiving the attentions of Mr Luke Ross.
Oh, nonsense! cried Cyril, flushing. Thats all off now.
I heard something of the kind; but what do you mean? Have they quarrelled?
Oh, no. Old Portlock wouldnt have it: and quite right, too. Girl like that to be engaged to such a clod!
Cyril, said his father, angrily, I would to heaven that I had as good a son.
Complimentary to your boys, sir. Lets see, he threw you over very shabbily about the school, didnt he?
He declined the post, certainly.
Then even Mr Luke Ross is not perfect, sir.
I am not going to criticise his conduct over that matter, sir, beyond saying that he had no doubt good reasons for declining the post. On further consideration I think he was right, for unless he felt his heart to be in his work, he would have been wrong to venture upon binding himself to the school.
Most worthy young man, Ive no doubt, said Cyril, with a sneer.
A young man for whom I entertain a great respect, retorted the Rector.
One of those highly respectable young men who push their way on in the world, sneered Cyril.
And often become great with the poorest of means for pushing their way, said the Rector, while those well started miserably fail.
Oh, yes; I know em, said Cyril. One reads of them in the nice books. Bah! I havent patience with the prigs; and as for this Luke Ross, he cried, with the colour burning
as two spots in his cheeks, I look upon him as one of the most contemptible cads under the sun. You talk of wishing that you had such a son, father! Why the fellow is utterly beneath our notice.
Why? said his father, in a sharp, incisive tone.
Why? replied Cyril. Because he is.
A pitiful reply, said the Rector, angrily. Can you give me a better reason for your dislike to Luke Ross?
Not I. He is not worth it.
Then Ill give you one, replied the Rector. The true one, Cyril, though it cuts me to the heart to have to speak so to my son, and before the mother who has worshipped him from his birth.