Poor little Miss Toller would have sunk into the earth with shame if she had heard herself thus discussed. This was her first dinner-party end she had looked forward to it with tremulous but pleasurable antic.i.p.ation. She was going to meet Lucius, and Lucius had always stood for her as an embodiment of everything that was worthy of admiration in the opposite s.e.x. She had recently been put in command of her own small dress allowance, and had expended a good part of her quarter's income on the frock that Dizzy had criticised so contemptuously. Lucius had not taken so much notice of her as she had expected, considering that they had been friends all their lives; and he seemed unhappy! Poor boy! With feminine intuition she instantly divined something of the state of things that existed between him and his father. Hitherto she had regarded Mr. Binney with that respect due to his age and his standing in her father's congregation. Suddenly she found herself hating and despising him with a fervour that surprised even herself, and she would have given anything she possessed, even her new frock, to be able to console Lucius without appearing to understand why he was so downcast. Lucius spoke very little to her, although she sat next to him, and she was too shy to address him first; but now she had to collect her wits and cope with the embarra.s.sing young man who sat on her left, who seemed more at ease than she could possibly have conceived any young man being in the awe-inspiring surroundings of a set dinner-party, and who spoke and behaved in quite a different manner from anybody she had ever met before.

"Oysters!" began Dizzy, as an opening to conversation. "I don't know whether you know that if you eat a dozen oysters and drink a wine-gla.s.sful of brandy after them, you die."

Miss Toller had never eaten oysters in her life, nor drunk brandy except under strong maternal pressure for medicinal purposes, but she looked rather frightened. "Do you?" she said.

"Yes," said Dizzy, "the brandy turns the oysters into leather.

Leather's the most indigestible thing you can swallow, although of course n.o.body would swallow it if they could help it. But the funny part of it is, that if you eat a piece of cheese the size of a walnut--I don't know why _walnut_ particularly--it melts the leather and then you are all right."

Miss Toller thought this information a trifle indelicate, but made no comment on it, except the tacit one of leaving her oysters untasted.

"Been to any plays lately?" inquired Dizzy.

"No," said Miss Toller, "my father doesn't approve of theatres."

"Doesn't he?" said Dizzy. "Quite right too. I'm sure the nonsense that's put on the stage now and called a play is enough to make you ill. And then they talk about dramatic art! Why, there's more art in a Punch and Judy show. Lucius and I have been going the rounds for the last week, and I'm hanged if I want to go and see another play till I'm seventy. Louie Freer's the only artist among the whole lot of 'em.

Ever heard her sing 'Mary Jane's Top Note'? Oh, no, I forgot. You don't care for theatres. But you should have seen Lucius at the A.D.C.

He was only a maid-servant--but _such_ a maid-servant. He had letters from all the Registry Offices in Cambridge offering him situations.

Every Sunday out and as many followers as he liked. Didn't you, Lucius?"

"He's talking nonsense, Nesta," said Lucius. "He always will talk whether he's got anything to say or not."

"But did you dress up as a maid-servant, Lucius?" asked the girl.

"He did," said Dizzy, "and his waist was twenty-two inches round. His name was Mary." But here Mr. Stubbs's attention was demanded by his other neighbour, Mrs. Toller, who had learnt enough of Mr. Binney's late doings to satisfy her for the present, and had caught a few sc.r.a.ps of the conversation addressed to her daughter, and thought it a trifle free.

"And what may you be going to do, Mr. Stubbs, when you leave college?"

she asked with a slight touch of asperity.

"Well, 'pon my word, I don't know," replied Dizzy, who may have been a little surprised at the directness of the inquiry, but didn't show it.

"I leave all that sort of thing to my old father, you know. He's got plenty of ideas on the subject, but he changes 'em about once a month.

I fall in with 'em all and give 'em up directly the new one comes along. It keeps him out of mischief, having something to think about, and it don't hurt me. I think it's the Church just at present--or is it brewing? No, brewing was last term. My old father read in the papers that the country spends more money on its drink bills than on anything else, so he thought that if I was put in a position to enable me to receipt a few of 'em, it wouldn't be a bad thing. However, he gave up the idea for some reason or other, and now we're turning our attention to the Church."

"And do you feel that you have any vocation for the ministry?" asked Mrs. Toller.

"Oh! I shall rub along all right," said Dizzy. "I've an old uncle who's got several livings in his gift. He'll give me one if I want it, I dare say. There's one up in Lincolnshire,--not much money, but a nice house, and five hundred acres of rough shooting--you don't often get that sort of thing with a rectory nowadays--and only about fifty people in the parish. I shouldn't mind going there, and I dare say I could if I wanted to. My old uncle's place is in the next parish, and I could have a very good time."

Mrs. Toller listened with inward disapproval, but the mention of Dizzy's uncle with his patronage and his "place" disarmed her rancour, she being as arrant a sn.o.b as ever walked, and she said with much sweetness:

"Don't you think, Mr. Stubbs, that the system of patronage adopted by the Established Church is a little--what shall I say?--a little--"

"I _do_," said Dizzy with warmth. "I quite agree with you. I think it's perfectly monstrous. Now, look at my old uncle--well, perhaps I oughtn't to let out family secrets--but I a.s.sure _you_ that for that old man to be able to present people to livings--though, mind you, he's a very nice old man, and I've nothing to say against him--well, upon my word, it's enough to make you turn Particular Baptist or something--never quite know why Baptists should be more particular than anybody else---oh, I _beg_ your pardon, Mrs. Toller--'pon my word I forgot we weren't of the same way of thinking--clumsy beggar, always putting my foot in it--but you're not what they call a _Particular_ Baptist, are you?"

"Certainly not," said Mrs. Toller. "The Particular Baptists were----"

"Quite so. Yes, I remember. And I know, of course, that Dr. Toller is a most distinguished leader of religious thought--_everybody_ knows that. I ought to have remembered that he didn't happen to belong to the same Church as I do--stupid of me. But, you know, the truth of it is, Mrs. Toller, that when a man gets up to the top of the tree, well, he may be Archbishop of Canterbury, or a Cardinal or--or a man like your husband, and to a fellow like me who don't follow these things very closely, well, there isn't much difference, don't you know."

"You feel that, do you?" said Mrs. Toller, much gratified. "Of course _we_ think so; but church people are usually so bigoted. I'm sure it's a great pleasure to meet a member of the Establishment who is so broad-minded."

Dizzy felt that he had completely retrieved his error, and proceeded to amplify his ideas.

"I think it's such rot being narrow-minded, don't you know," he said.

"Look at the Buddhists. They're just as good as we are. I knew a fellow once who became one. He was fond of a good gla.s.s of wine. He had to knock _that_ off, and become a teetotaller. He liked shooting, but he had to give it up, because he said he couldn't take life--he never had taken much before, but he used to hit 'em sometimes by mistake, and he didn't want to run any risks. Of course, he didn't eat meat. Then he hadn't been married very long, and there was a baby he was very fond of. He began to bring that up as a Buddhist too, and fed it on apples and filbert nuts. Don't know what his wife was doing all the time, but it died in a month. _He_ didn't care. He just went on.

Now, that's what I call religion, you know, and I should admire that fellow just as much if he were a Mormon or whatever he was. Wouldn't you?"

Mrs. Toller was not prepared to go quite so far as that, but she went part of the way, and went very amiably.

"I suppose you have never heard my husband preach, have you, Mr.

Stubbs?" she asked.

"No, I haven't," said Dizzy. "And it's a funny thing, because I've been in London a good deal. It's the people who come up from the country who see and hear everything that's going on. Now, you wouldn't credit it, but I've actually never been to the Zoo."

Mrs. Toller did not quite see the connection of ideas, but her amiability did not decrease.

"He preached a very fine sermon last Sunday," she said, "on 'The Munic.i.p.al Duties of an Enlightened Electorate.' The papers were full of it. The _Daily Chronicle_ said it was 'an epoch-making sermon.'"

"I can quite believe that," said Dizzy. "If a man talks sense in the pulpit people will listen to him. If he talks nonsense they won't."

"That is so true," said Mrs. Toller, and felt quite sorry when the time came for the ladies to leave the table, for Dizzy had by this time completely wiped out the memory of his little slip.

Driving home after the entertainment was over Mrs. Toller laid down the law.

"Mr. Binney seems to have been behaving very foolishly at Cambridge,"

she said. "I gathered something of the sort from Mrs. Higginbotham, and wished to find out if it was true. I could see that she was ashamed of the nonsense he talked at dinner, and I felt for her, poor thing. I shall go and see her to-morrow and tell her so. The way Miss Tupper egged him on was disgraceful. She ought to be ashamed of herself, at her age, too. If I were you, I should allude to it in your prayer on Sunday, Samuel. It will not seem so pointed as if you were to do it in the sermon, and there is never any telling what Miss Tupper may do. She might leave the chapel altogether if she is offended, and if she once took to going to church she'd give herself such airs that there'd be no holding her."

"I think Mr. Binney is a very silly little man," said Miss Toller vindictively. "I believe he is making poor Lucius miserable."

"Nesta!" exclaimed Mrs. Toller, astonished at this outburst from her usually submissive daughter, "I cannot allow you to speak like that of your elders. Mr. Binney is one of your father's greatest supporters.

Pray express yourself with more respect. And as for Lucius--I've no patience with him. I've gone out of my way to be kind to that boy, and he shows no more grat.i.tude than if I was a mere n.o.body--hardly troubled himself to answer when I asked him how he was getting on with his studies, and actually turned his back upon me when I began to give him a little advice about the temptations of University life. Now if he were like that nice young Mr. Stubbs it would be different. Stubbs is not a genteel name, but I believe he is very well connected, and he certainly has a well-bred manner of speaking. Samuel, I have asked him to come with us and hear you preach on Sunday evening. He said nothing would please him better. He has never been in a Nonconformist place of worship, and he will certainly come if he is still in town. I should be careful what I said about the Establishment if I were you. I should like him to carry away a good impression of your preaching."

"I'll be sure and remember it, my dear," said Dr. Toller drowsily from his corner of the carriage. "Nesta, dear, write a note for me when we get home--'Mr. Stubbs--no rubs.' Then I shan't disgrace myself." The Reverend Dr. Toller cultivated his small gift of humour; he found it necessary in order to live comfortably with his wife.

Dizzy took his departure the next morning, but not before a very painful scene had occurred in Russell Square. The _Times_ which graced Mr. Binney's breakfast table, and was now eagerly searched each morning for news of the Little-go examination, at last published the list. Mr.

Binney's name was not in it.

Dizzy came down to find a dejected figure sitting at the head of the table, while the disregarded urn which had filled the teapot and flooded the tea-tray was beginning to flow over the surrounding tract of tablecloth. As he entered the room Mr. Binney bounded from his seat with a yell of pain, and turned off the tap. The physical anguish of the moment diverted his mind from the mental shock he had undergone, but the numbing realisation of failure soon settled on him again.

"Stubbs!" he said mournfully, "it is all over. I shall never hold up my head again."

"Lor, Mr. Binney!" exclaimed Dizzy. "It can't be so bad as that, is it? Shall I ring for a servant to bring a cloth and mop it up?"

"It isn't that," said Mr. Binney, with the calm born of despair. "I have failed to pa.s.s the Previous examination. I am a disgraced man."

"Oh, that's all, is it?" said Dizzy, helping himself to devilled kidneys off the side table. "I thought you'd scalded yourself. Why, bless my soul, I knew a fellow who had eight shots at the Little-go and didn't pa.s.s it then. I had three goes myself, and here I am as merry as a cricket."

"Ah, you are young!" said Mr. Binney. "You've got your life before you. I shall never get over it."

Nevertheless he did get over it, and the failure did him good. He went to Mrs. Higginbotham and confessed all. He saw now, he said, that he had wasted his time and opportunities. He had consorted with idle and graceless companions, and made himself a reproach to the authorities of the college. He had brought this appalling result on himself, and he deserved it.

Mrs. Higginbotham gave the repentant prodigal full absolution. She advised him to write to Mr. Rimington, and promise full amendment of his ways. Mr. Binney did not take her advice in this particular, but he did summon to his aid the learned Minshull, and set himself steadily to read for several hours a day during the Christmas vacation in order to make up for lost time. Lucius found the house very dull. An unexpected invitation from his cousin John Jermyn's mother came for him to spend the week after Christmas at the Norfolk Rectory, but remembering his cousin John he did not feel attracted, and receiving another invitation the day after to the ancestral home of the Stubbses he accepted that, and refused the other. He went up to Cambridge early, for there was a chance of his rowing in the University boat, and he wanted to keep a term before going to Putney, if he should be fortunate enough to be wanted there; so he saw next to nothing of his father for the remainder of the vacation.