as so continually poised, both bent over
the sheets.

Through the thin wall which separated the school-room from the study
came the sound of Mary's scales. Mary was by nature a child of wrath, as
far as music was concerned, and Fraeulein--anxious, musical Fraeulein--was
strenuously endeavoring to impart to her pupil the rudiments of what was
her chief joy in life.

"'Modern Dissent,'" read aloud Mr. Gresley, "by Veritas."

"_Veritas_!" repeated Hester. Astonishment jerked the word out of her
before she was aware. She pulled herself hastily together.

"Certainly," said the author, looking at his sister through his glasses,
which made the pupils of his eyes look as large as the striped marbles
on which Mary and Regie spent their pennies. "Veritas," he continued,
"is a Latin word signifying Truth."

"So I fancied. But is not _Truth_ rather a large name to adopt as a _nom
de guerre_? Might it not seem rather--er--in a layman it would appear
arrogant."

"I am not a layman, and I do not pretend to write on subjects of which I
am ignorant," said Mr. Gresley, with dignity. "This is not a work of
fiction. I don't imagine this, or fancy that, or invent the other. I
merely place before the public, forcibly, and in a novel manner, a few
great truths."

Mary was doing her finger exercises. C, C, C, with the thumb; D, D, D,
with the first finger, Fraeulein was repeating. "Won! two! free! Won!
two! free!" with a new intonation of cheerful patience at each
repetition.

"Ah!" said Hester. "A few great truths. Then the name must be 'Veritas.'
You would not reconsider it?"

"Certainly not," said Mr. Gresley, his eye challenging hers. "It is the
name I am known by as the author of 'Schism.'"

"I had momentarily forgotten 'Schism,'" said Hester, dropping her
glance.

"I went through a good deal of obloquy about 'Schism,'" said Mr. Gresley
with pride, "and I should not wonder if 'Modern Dissent' caused quite a
ferment in Middleshire. If it does, I am willing to bear a little spite
and ill-will. All history shows that truth is met at first by
opposition. Half the country clergy round here are asleep. Good men, but
lax. They want waking up. I said as much to the Bishop the other day,
and he agreed with me; for he said that if some of his younger clergy
could be waked up to a sense of their own arrogance and narrowness he
would hold a public thanksgiving in the cathedral. But he added that he
thought nothing short of the last tru