shrank, feeling that they were
greater than he, which was, there is little doubt, a sign of grace.

"If you wish to remove Clarence," said Mr. May, "perhaps I had better
make out a scheme of reading for him."

"Look here," cried the rich man, "I didn't want to remove him; but there
he is, the first I see of him, cheek for jowl with a good-looking girl.
I don't mean to say a word against Miss May, I've no doubt she's
charming; but anyhow there she is side by side with Clar, who is no more
able to resist that sort of thing--"

Mr. May laughed, and this time with unmitigated amusement. "Do you mean
Ursula? I think I can answer for it that she made no attempts upon him
for which resistance would be necessary."

"That's all very well to say; but bless you they do it, every one," said
Mr. Copperhead, "without exception, when a young fellow's well off and
well-looking; and as if one wasn't bad enough, you've got Phoebe Beecham.
You won't tell me she doesn't mean anything?--up to any mischief, a real
minister's daughter. I don't mean anything uncivil to you or yours. I
suppose a parson's different; but we know what a minister's daughter is
in our connection. Like the men themselves, in short, who are always
pouncing on some girl with a fortune if her relations don't take care.
And Clarence is as weak as a baby; he takes after his mother--a poor bit
of a feeble creature, though he's like me in exterior. That's how it is,
you perceive; I don't quite see my way to letting him go on."

"That is of course precisely as you please," said Mr. May, somewhat
sharply. He would preserve his dignity even though his heart was
sinking; but he could not keep that tone of sharpness out of his voice.

"Of course it is as I please. I'll pay up of course for the second three
months, if you choose, fair and square. I meant him to stay, and I'll
pay. But that's all. You've no further claim upon me that I know of; and
I must say that for a tutor, a regular coach, to keep girls in his
house, daughters, or whatever you choose to call them, is something
monstrous. It's a thing no fellow's friends would put up with. It's what
I call dishonourable."

"Perhaps," said Mr. May, with all the self-possession he was master of,
"you will let your son know at once that he must pack and go. I dare
say, Sir Robert can take him, and we will send the portmanteaux. In such
a case, it is better there should not be a moment's delay."

"Clarence!" cried Mr. Coppe