k parsons ought to marry."

"Good gracious," exclaimed Mrs. Carthew, "you're surely not engaged?"

"Oh, no," said Michael; but he felt extremely flattered by the
imputation. "Still, I might want to be."

"Then you're in love," decided Mrs. Carthew. "No wonder you look so
careworn. I suppose she's nearly thirty and has promised to wait until
you come of age. I can picture her. If I had my stick with me I could
draw her on the gravel. A melon stuck on a bell-glass, I'll be bound."

"I'm not in love, and if I were in love," said Michael with dignity, "I
certainly shouldn't be in love with anyone like that. But I could be in
love at any moment, and so I don't think I shall be a parson."

"You've got plenty of time," said Mrs, Carthew. "Alan says you're going
to Oxford next year."

Michael's heart leapt--next year had never before seemed so imminent.

"I suppose you'll say that I'm an ignorant and foolish old woman, if I
attempt to give you advice about Oxford; but I gave you advice once
about school, and I'll do the same again. To begin with, I think you'll
find having been to St. James' a handicap. I have an old friend, the
wife of a don, who assures me that many of the boys who go up from your
school suffer at Oxford from their selfish incubation by Dr. Brownjohn.
They're fit for killing too soon. In fact, they have been forced."

"Ah, but I saw that for myself," said Michael. "I had a row with
Brownjohn about my future."

"How delighted I am to hear that!" said Mrs. Carthew. "I think that I'll
cut back the delphiniums also. Then you're not going in for a
scholarship?"

"No," said Michael. "I don't want to be hampered, and I think my
mother's got plenty of money. But Alan's going to get a scholarship."

"Yes, that is unfortunately necessary," said Mrs. Carthew. "Still, Alan
is sufficiently typical of the public-school spirit--an odious
expression yet always unavoidable--to carry off the burden. If you were
poor, I should advise you to buy overcoats. Three smart overcoats are an
equipment for a poor man. But I needn't dwell on social ruses in your
case. Remember that going to Oxford is like going to school. Be normal
and inconspicuous at first; and when you have established yourself as
an utterly undistinguished young creature, you can career into whatever
absurdities of thought, action or attire you will. In your first year
establish your sanity; in your second year display your charm; and in
your third year d