one
of those who knew not where he stood. A streak of his grandfather old
Jolyon's love of justice prevented, him from seeing one side only.
Moreover, in his set of 'the best' there was a 'jumping-Jesus' of
extremely advanced opinions and some personal magnetism. Jolly wavered.
His father, too, seemed doubtful in his views. And though, as was proper
at the age of twenty, he kept a sharp eye on his father, watchful for
defects which might still be remedied, still that father had an 'air'
which gave a sort of glamour to his creed of ironic tolerance. Artists
of course; were notoriously Hamlet-like, and to this extent one must
discount for one's father, even if one loved him. But Jolyon's original
view, that to 'put your nose in where you aren't wanted' (as the
Uitlanders had done) 'and then work the oracle till you get on top is not
being quite the clean potato,' had, whether founded in fact or no, a
certain attraction for his son, who thought a deal about gentility. On
the other hand Jolly could not abide such as his set called 'cranks,' and
Val's set called 'smugs,' so that he was still balancing when the clock
of Black Week struck. One--two--three, came those ominous repulses at
Stormberg, Magersfontein, Colenso. The sturdy English soul reacting
after the first cried, 'Ah! but Methuen!' after the second: 'Ah! but
Buller!' then, in inspissated gloom, hardened. And Jolly said to himself:
'No, damn it! We've got to lick the beggars now; I don't care whether
we're right or wrong.' And, if he had known it, his father was thinking
the same thought.

That next Sunday, last of the term, Jolly was bidden to wine with 'one of
the best.' After the second toast, 'Buller and damnation to the Boers,'
drunk--no heel taps--in the college Burgundy, he noticed that Val Dartie,
also a guest, was looking at him with a grin and saying something to his
neighbour. He was sure it was disparaging. The last boy in the world to
make himself conspicuous or cause public disturbance, Jolly grew rather
red and shut his lips. The queer hostility he had always felt towards
his second-cousin was strongly and suddenly reinforced. 'All right!' he
thought, 'you wait, my friend!' More wine than was good for him, as the
custom was, helped him to remember, when they all trooped forth to a
secluded spot, to touch Val on the arm.

"What did you say about me in there?"

"Mayn't I say what I like?"

"No."

"Well, I said you were a pro-Boe