stfallen, left the room and went to his mother to
acquaint her with the occurrence. She was occupied in the performance of
the family's toilet.

'Well, my boy,' she said, as she scrubbed the face of the last but one,
'it's about time that you set about doing something to earn your living,
I must say. Now, if instead of learning all this popish stuff about
Greek and Latin and Lord knows what, you'd learnt to milk a cow or groom
a horse you'd be as right as a trivet now. Well, I'll put you up a few
things in a bundle as your father says and you can start early to-morrow
morning.... Now then, darling,' she added, turning to her Benjamin,
'come and have your face washed, there's a dear.'

IV

Amyntas scratched his head, and presently an inspiration came to him.

'I will go to the parson,' he said.

The parson had been hunting, and he was sitting in his study in a great
oak chair, drinking a bottle of port; his huge body and his red face
expressed the very completest satisfaction with the world in general;
one felt that he would go to bed that night with the cheerful happiness
of duty performed, and snore stentoriously for twelve hours. He was
troubled by no qualms of conscience; the Thirty-nine Articles caused him
never a doubt, and it had never occurred to him to concern himself with
the condition of the working classes. He lived in a golden age, when the
pauper was allowed to drink himself to death as well as the nobleman,
and no clergyman's wife read tracts by his bedside....

Amyntas told his news.

'Well, my boy'--he never spoke but he shouted--'so you're going away?
Well, God bless you!'

Amyntas looked at him expectantly, and the parson, wondering what he
expected, came to the conclusion that it was a glass of port, for at
that moment he was able to imagine nothing that man could desire more.
He smiled benignly upon Amyntas, and poured him out a glass.

'Drink that, my boy. Keep it in your memory. It's the finest thing in
the world. It's port that's made England what she is!'

Amyntas drank the port, but his face did not express due satisfaction.

'Damn the boy!' said the parson. 'Port's wasted on him.' ... Then,
thinking again what Amyntas might want, he rose slowly from his chair,
stretching his legs. 'I'm not so young as I used to be; I get stiff
after a day's hunting.' He walked round his room, looking at his
bookshelves; at last he picked out a book and blew the dust off the
edges. 'Here's a Bible