"There goes more to the making of a gentleman than the drinking of wine."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that. As for instance--self-control, n.o.ble thoughts, care for others above himself, indifference to low pleasures."

"Low pleasures!" repeated Fenton. "Do you call wine a low pleasure?"

"Well, it brings people into the gutter."

"Pshaw! not gentlemen."

"I grant you they are not gentlemen after they get there."

"What do you know about it?" said the boy not very politely. "Did you ever drink it yourself?"

"I never will again. A gentleman should be a free man; and wine makes men slaves. I don't choose to be in bondage. And if it would not enslave me, it does other people; and I would not give it the help of my example."

Fenton dropped the subject, but renewed his proposal that they should return home. So shawls and worsted work were stored in the cart, and the little book in Meredith's pocket; and the line of march was taken up. It was indeed coming now to the lovely time of the day. Shadows long, lights glowing in warm level reflections, all objects getting a sunny side and a shady side, and standing forth in new beauty in consequence; the day gathering in its train, as it were, to prepare for a stately leave-taking by and by. Meredith and Maggie, loath to go, lingered the last of the party; indeed he had the cart to draw, which was heavy, and needed careful guiding in places over and between the rocks; and he could not run on with the heads of the party. And Maggie walked beside him, and put her little hand upon the handle of the cart which she could not help to draw. How sweet it was! The light every moment growing softer, not cooler; the colours more contrasted, as the shadows lengthened; the bugle notes coming over the water now and then. Meredith looked, and drew deep breaths of the delicious air; but Maggie walked along pondering.

"Ditto," she began, "do you think _everybody_ ought to do mission work?"

"The dear Lord did not give the charge to _some_ of His people, did He?"

"But how can they do it? Everybody cannot go to the heathen?"

"He said, 'in all the world'--so that means at home as well as abroad, doesn't it?"

"Preach the gospel in all the world?"

"Yes."

"How can _I_, Ditto?"

"You and I, let us say. Well, Maggie, suppose we ask Mr. Murray? But one thing is certain; those who stay at home must furnish the money for those that go."

"Does it take a great deal?"

"Not to send a few. But how long would a _few_ people be about telling the gospel to all the world? Suppose one man had as much as the whole State of New York for his parish?"

"He'd never get through."

"Exactly. And so it is nearly nineteen hundred years since the Lord gave the command; and the heathen world is the heathen world still--pretty much."

"But, then, Ditto--to send a great many people, it would want a great deal of money."

"It does. What then?"

"Maybe people cannot afford it."

"Let us ask Mr. Murray about that."

"But, Ditto, what do _you_ think? I know you think something."

"Maggie, I think we should seek _first_ the kingdom."

They were turning into the shrubbery grounds near the house, and Maggie left the discussion. They were all ready for dinner, as far as appet.i.te went, and in a little while the five young people sat down at the board.

"This is jolly," said Fenton, who took the head of the table.

"Roast-beef, to wit?" said Meredith.

"Roast-beef is a good thing if you are hungry, as I am; but I did not mean that. It is uncommonly jolly to be out of the way of the governors."

Maggie looked up astonished.

"'Rulers are not a terror to good works,'" said Meredith.

"They're a nuisance, though."

"Only to one portion of society. I hope you do not cla.s.s yourself with them."

"Do you mean," said Maggie, making big eyes, "do you mean, Fenton, that you are glad papa and mamma are in California?"

"No. Only one of 'em. Mamma never interferes with me."

"She leaves it to papa to do," said Maggie, with dignity and sageness.

"I am glad she does. Shows her wisdom. I can tell what is good for me as well as anybody else."

"Always do it, I suppose?"

"That's just my affair," said Fenton. "There is no use in putting chains round a fellow--all the good of it is, he must just break the chains."

"Do you call papa's commands, _chains_?" said Maggie.

"Don't stare, Maggie; nothing is so vulgar."

"I am glad Uncle Eden is coming, to make you behave yourself."

"If he tries it on, I shall bolt," said Fenton. "I am out for some fun; and if I can't get it at home I'll get it somewhere else."

Meredith succeeded in turning the conversation to a pleasanter subject; nevertheless Fenton's deliverances shocked his little sister several times in the course of the dinner. Among other things, Fenton would go down to the wine-cellar, to see if a bottle or two might not by chance have been left; and though the key was not to be had and he came back discomfited, Maggie could not get over the audacity of his proposition.

She was further and exceedingly shocked after dinner when Fenton proposed to Meredith to have a cigar. Meredith declining, Fenton went out to enjoy his cigar alone.

"Fenton is grown very wild," said Maggie.

"Boys can't be like girls," said Esther.

"I don't see why they can't be as respectable as girls," said Maggie.