way
characteristic of the modern Mentor. The old didactics have long gone
out of fashion, and the moralist of to-day, instead of preaching, _ore
retundo_, must only "hint a fault and hesitate dislike." But, hide it as
he might, there was an ethical and religious passion in French that
would out, and was soon indeed to drive him from Eton to a town parish.
He had been ordained some two years before this date.

It was this inborn pastoral gift, just as real as the literary or
artistic gifts, and containing the same potentialities of genius as they
which was leading him to feel a deep anxiety about the Barnes's
_menage_. It seemed to him necessary that Daphne should respect her
husband; and Roger, in a state of complete idleness, was not altogether
respectable.

So, with much quizzing of him as "the Squire," French tried to goad his
companion into some of a Squire's duties. "Stand for the County Council,
old fellow," he said. "Your father was on it, and it'll give you
something to do."

To his surprise Roger at once acquiesced. He was striding along in cap
and knickerbockers, his curly hair still thick and golden on his
temples, his clear skin flushed with exercise, his general physical
aspect even more splendid than it had been in his first youth. Beside
him, the slender figure and pleasant irregular face of Herbert French
would have been altogether effaced and eclipsed but for the Eton
master's two striking points: prematurely white hair, remarkably thick
and abundant; and very blue eyes, shy, spiritual and charming.

"I don't mind," Roger was saying, "if you think they'd have me. Beastly
bore, of course! But one's got to do something for one's keep."

He looked round with a smile, slightly conscious. The position he had
occupied for some three years, of the idle and penniless husband
dependent on his wife's dollars, was not, he knew, an exalted one in
French's eyes.

"Oh! you'll find it quite tolerable," said French. "Roads and schools do
as well as anything else to break one's teeth on. We shall see you a
magistrate directly."

Roger laughed. "That would be a good one!--I say, you know, I hope
Daphne's going to like Heston."

French hoped so too, guardedly.

"I hear the Archdeacon got on her nerves yesterday?"

He looked at his companion with a slight laugh and a shrug.

"That doesn't matter."

"I don't know. He's rather a spiteful old party. And Daphne's accustomed
to be made a lot of, you know. In Lo