pon his sides, his
eyes, full of a moody wrath, fixed on the wreck and disarray of the
schoolroom.

'Well, Mackay, have they knocked the wind out of you? My friend and
helper--Mr. Elsmere. Come and sit down, won't you, a minute. They've
left us the chairs, I perceive, and there's a spark or two of fire. Do
you smoke? Will you light up?'

The four men sat on chatting some time, and then Wardlaw and Elsmere
walked home together. It had been all arranged. Mackay, a curious morbid
fellow, who had thrown himself into Unitarianism and charity mainly out
of opposition to an orthodox and _bourgeois_ family, and who had a great
idea of his own social powers, was somewhat grudging and ungracious
through it all. But Elsmere's proposals were much too good to be
refused. He offered to bring to the undertaking his time, his
clergyman's experience, and as much money as might be wanted. Wardlaw
listened to him cautiously for an hour, took stock of the whole man
physically and morally, and finally said, as he very quietly and
deliberately knocked the ashes out of his pipe,--

'All right, I'm your man, Mr. Elsmere. If Mackay agrees, I vote we make
you captain of this venture.'

'Nothing of the sort,' said Elsmere. 'In London I am a novice; I come to
learn, not to lead.'

Wardlaw shook his head with a little shrewd smile. Mackay faintly
endorsed his companion's offer, and the party broke up.

That was in January. In two months from that time, by the natural force
of things, Elsmere, in spite of diffidence and his own most sincere wish
to avoid a premature leadership, had become the head and heart of the
Elgood Street undertaking, which had already assumed much larger
proportions. Wardlaw was giving him silent approval and invaluable help,
while young Mackay was in the first uncomfortable stages of a
hero-worship which promised to be exceedingly good for him.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

There were one or two curious points connected with the beginnings of
Elsmere's venture in North R----, one of which may just be noticed here.
Wardlaw, his predecessor and colleague, had speculatively little or
nothing in common with Elsmere or Murray Edwardes. He was a devoted and
orthodox Comtist, for whom Edwardes had provided an outlet for the
philanthropic passion, as he had for many others belonging to far
stranger and remoter faiths.

By profession he was a barrister, with a small and struggling practice.
On this practice, however, he had m