IV

“Now, I don’t know how it is,” said Mr. Merry, “but you all look half-dressed, and in a state of slovenliness, somehow. I can’t understand how it is that my boys cannot manage to look like gentlemen. Now, whatever is it so scrappy and untidy about you all?”

“We are to dress again, sir, presently,” said a boy; “before the prize-giving!”

“Dress again, presently, before the prize-giving! Dress again, presently, before the prize-giving! Dress again presently! And so it is not worth while to come down looking like gentlemen, though there are five or six hours before the prize-giving begins! Have any of you washed this morning, pray? Have you washed, Johnson? Have any of you said your prayers? Or have you put them off, till you shall be in church in four days’ time? I have never heard of such a thing.”

“Miss Basden told us to⁠—to do those things, and then not very much. We are to change all our things again presently. Miss Basden said⁠—”

“Miss Basden said! Miss Basden said! You are a lot of boys to require a lady to come and say that kind of thing to you! Have you no gentlemanly sense of decency? Have you no self-respect? Have you no⁠ ⁠… ? Oh, I have no patience to talk to you. I cannot understand it. I cannot. When I was your age⁠ ⁠… But get to your books, and let me hear no more of this dressing again presently because of the prize-giving. I cannot put up with it.”

A maid appeared with a request from Mrs. Merry, that the boys would go down to breakfast directly they heard the gong, as there was no time to spare that morning.

“Yes! Oh; what, Fanny? Directly they hear the gong? Thank you, Fanny, very much. Boys, you go down to breakfast directly you hear the gong. So don’t stay behind to finish what you are doing; and to let me go out first, as I am forty years older than you, and your schoolmaster. I suppose Mother thought you would miss out hearing the gong this morning, as you have missed out most other things. And there is the gong! So rush down; and go stampeding like a herd of tatterdemalions who have never been to school, instead of gentlemen spending their lives in one.”

Mrs. Merry was sitting before an empty tray, looking as if she had given up hope, except in smoothing her hair and glancing at the clock.

“Now, Mother, now, it’s all right, Mother,” said Mr. Merry, in an almost imploring tone. “You are managing it all as well as it can possibly be managed. You know you are, Mother.”

“But it is not all right, dear. The cups cannot be done without. The boys have to have their breakfast as usual,” said Mrs. Merry, almost implying that it would be only reasonable to waive this material start to the day.

“Oh, yes; ring the bell, Johnson,” said Mr. Merry, avoiding looking at his wife. “Ring the bell, Johnson, will you, please? Thank you, Johnson, very much. Oh, Miss Basden, good morning, Miss Basden. We were getting to feel all of a muddle without you.”

“You will have to feel all of a muddle again, very soon, then, I am afraid, Mr. Merry. I have come in only to rush away again. Oh, the cups! I could not be there for once. No, Mrs. Merry, I insist upon your not getting up. Mr. Merry, will you please forbid Mrs. Merry to rise?”

“Boys, go out and get your own cups for your own breakfast! Get up, and wait upon yourselves. When I was a boy, there was none of this sitting about of boys to be waited on. Oh, Fanny! Here you are, Fanny. The cups, Fanny, please. They have been forgotten somehow, in the bustle about everything today, you know. It is all right, Fanny. Thank you, Fanny, very much. Boys, be still, and don’t first sit about to have everything done for you, and then when it is being done, begin to make a fuss. Can’t you see that Fanny is getting the cups for you now? Oh, you are a set of boys! Now, Mother, have a cup of tea, and let your mind rest, while you have your breakfast. Miss Basden, you do the same.”

“It is more pouring out three or four dozen cups of tea for other people, than having one cup myself, that I have to think about.”

“Yes, Mother, yes,” said Mr. Merry, looking guiltily at the array of cups. “You are always looking after three or four dozen people, it seems to me. But don’t give up heart, Mother, you know. All days are not like today, you know. Why, Mr. Burgess! How are you, Mr. Burgess? Why, you look as fresh as if you were to have a prize. Ah! Anything out of the common is a great thing for you, isn’t it, Mr. Burgess?”

“Well, it depends upon how much it has to do with me, Mr. Merry,” said Mr. Burgess, who had come in brighter for the break in routine, but was already at his level. “It sounds rather a confession, but I am afraid I had not thought of the boys’ prize-giving. It was very self-centred of me.”

“It has brought you down in time, Mr. Burgess, at any rate,” said Miss Basden, draining her cup on her feet.

“I had not thought of it, Miss Basden. But I am glad, if I have even unconsciously honoured the day.”

“Ah, Mr. Burgess, it would not bring you down earlier, would it?”

“It appears that it has, Mr. Merry. But it was an office performed for me quite without my own participation, as I say; though it seems these things are to be settled for me.”

“Boys, now, will you all be in your rooms by half-past eleven?” said Miss Basden, in a sudden, aloof tone, from the door. “By half-past eleven; so that you can have done all you have to do, by twelve, when I shall come round and see that you are properly ready. Do you understand?”

“Can’t any of you speak?” said Mr. Merry. “Can’t you do something else than sit, when a lady makes kind proposals of this sort to you? What do any of you ever do for Miss Basden, that she should go round, when she has so much to do, and see that you are all ready? Now, thank Miss Basden; and say that, of course, you will be ready to the moment.”

“Fanny,” said Mrs. Merry, “will you remember that I shall want you all down in the basement this morning? So none of you are to be upstairs at all, after the rooms are done. Miss Herrick is answering the front door bell.”

“What, Mother?” said Mr. Merry, leaning to his wife. “Miss Herrick, Mother? Miss Herrick answering the front door bell! Why, is that necessary, Mother? Does Mr. Herrick know about that?”

“Quite necessary, dear; or I should not have arranged it.”

“Yes, but Mother, Miss Herrick! Miss Herrick, you know! Why, I should not have thought that⁠ ⁠… I mean, is that all right, Mother?”

“Quite, dear. It is just a little arrangement between Miss Herrick and me.”

“Yes, Mother,” said Mr. Merry, with compliment in his tone towards his wife’s relation with the sister of the head. “But, you know, Mother! Well, wasn’t there any way at all out of it but that?”

“None at all, dear. Unless you can spare me one of the boys, to sit in the hall all the morning and answer the bell?”

“Oh, well, Mother! I don’t mean that they wouldn’t be a great deal more useful, sitting in the hall, and answering the bell, than doing anything they will be doing. For what will be the good of teaching them this morning, sitting patiently and trying to teach them, half dressed as they are, and their heads full of every kind of thing but what they ought to be full of? But you know, Mother”⁠—Mr. Merry spoke low⁠—“the parents, you know! If it got to them, all about being used, and missing a morning’s work, you know! So I don’t think, Mother⁠ ⁠…”

“Oh, of course I didn’t really mean it, dear!” said Mrs. Merry, half laughing. “And a boy would not be any good to me, really.”

“No. A boy would not be any good to you, really! A boy would not be of any good to you! Oh, wouldn’t he? I am sure he would not. Now there is a thing to get about, about you all! Here is Mother, kind as she is, having to say that!”

“You might stay with the boys until they have finished their breakfast, dear,” said Mrs. Merry, speaking with her hand on the edge of the table; “and then get them out as soon as possible. We are not going to have prayers this morning, so that the maids can get in to clear the room.”

Mr. Merry waited with his eyes on the door, until it closed behind his wife.

“Not going to have prayers this morning! Oh! So you are to miss that out, are you, besides all the other things you have missed out today? It seems that the only things you are to have today, are meals and prizes. I don’t wonder that the custom of giving prizes is getting to be talked against. I don’t wonder. And I tell you, there is one thing you will have this morning, and that is your work. So get up, and get out, whether you have finished your breakfast or not. ‘Stay with the boys until they have finished their breakfast!’ Am I a nursemaid, or what? Why, Mother is all put about this morning. So get out, and get your walk, and come back prepared to give your mind to your books. Do you hear me?”

“The end of breakfast is another thing that we can miss out today,” said Mr. Burgess, implying personal indifference.

“Oh, well, Mr. Burgess,” said Mr. Merry, his eyes on the departing flock of boys; “oh, well, the boys needn’t hurry you. But ‘stay with the boys until they have finished their breakfast!’ Why, I shouldn’t have dreamt of asking you to do it, Mr. Burgess.”

Mr. Burgess followed his pupils.

“Fanny,” said Mr. Merry, “this about Miss Herrick’s answering the bell? Why, that is all right, of course? There isn’t any way out of it? There isn’t any one of you who could just run upstairs, you know, if you should hear the bell?”

“Well, no, I am afraid not, sir. Mrs. Merry’s orders are, that we are to keep downstairs this morning. There is a lot to be done down there.”

“Yes, Fanny, of course. Yes, Fanny. Thank you, Fanny, very much.”

Mr. Merry went up to the hall, and catching sight of Emily, quickened his steps to overtake her.

“Why, Miss Herrick, here is our great day. Our great day for the lads, when we all work together, as you and Mr. Herrick are so kind to us. And, Miss Herrick, you are so very kind to us. I hope there isn’t any little thing you are doing for us today that will be a nuisance to you, you know?”

“Oh, no. Nicholas and I are just coming in, in our most beautiful clothes, when the people come. What could be nicer for us? And I am opening the front door, as we can hear the bell. But as the tradesmen go to the back, and no visitors come in the morning, I don’t know whom I am to open it to. Unless to Mr. Burgess and the boys. That would sound good work, if I just said the number of people.”

“Yes, Miss Herrick,” said Mr. Merry, making way rather hurriedly for Emily. “Yes, Miss Herrick, very good and kind to us all. Oh, Mr. Burgess! So you are not gone, Mr. Burgess. Then make sure that you have your latch key, Mr. Burgess, will you? Because there is a good deal of running about on people today, you know.”

“Yes, Mr. Merry, I believe I have it. I always make a point of carrying it. A latch key is a useful thing to have on one, in case of wanting to run in and out.”

“Oh, well, Mr. Burgess. Wanting to run in and out! Oh, well, just today I meant, you know.”

A few hours later Emily opened the door to Bumpus and Masson.

“So you are not ashamed of coming to see us when we are really helping to earn the living. I mean of being seen with us. Did you see Mr. Burgess passing the college this morning, with his paper, and all the boys? How young did you think he looked?”

“About twenty,” said Bumpus. “A nice boy.”

“Oh, you don’t think he looks as young as that? Nicholas, here is Dickie saying that Mr. Burgess looks about twenty, and a nice boy! And he is here to look quite apart from the boys. It is so worrying about the parents noticing how young he is. With Nicholas doing nothing, and Mr. Merry’s having no education, there is only Mr. Burgess to be looked to for all the boys’ advantages. Of course Miss Basden is better than all three of them. But parents don’t count a woman.”

“That is unreasonable of them,” said Bumpus, “as one out of every pair of them is a woman.”

“Perhaps that is how they know,” said Emily. “But Mr. Burgess only missed a year of college because he couldn’t afford to be kept there, and he has been here eighteen months; so he really might be doing something now.”

“Has he no degree, then?” said Bumpus.

“Yes, he worked for it during the first year he was here.”

“I did not know you could do that for Oxford or Cambridge,” said Masson.

“I don’t think it was Oxford or Cambridge,” said Emily. “Don’t be searching and snobbish, William.”

“Well, missing the culminating part of advantages does not show,” said Bumpus.

“Not very much, to parents, I hope. It is only Mr. Merry who really shows how much he has missed; and Mr. Merry can do anything. Isn’t it generous of him to spend his life giving to others what he has not had himself?”

“Why not hand over prayers to him, and retire, Herrick?” said Bumpus. “If he can read.”

“It might be bold to make any change,” said Masson.

“And boldness in religion is out of place,” said Emily, “when we have to be humiliated and lowly. Mr. Merry can read. I saw him once, reading. But of course Nicholas has to read prayers. You must see that, Dickie.”

“Yes, yes. I see that, really,” said Bumpus.

“You were obvious, Richard,” said Masson.

“Dear Mr. Merry!” said Emily. “He is not obvious, is he? To support us all, so that people think it is Nicholas! I really don’t think it is obvious.”

“It is in good taste,” said Herrick.

“You do your half, darling,” said Emily. “It is all a matter of the time people take. There are those hundreds of helpless children, coming up from that cellar that we have never seen. I wish Dickens was alive, to expose schools. Mr. Merry has stopped to look back at Mrs. Merry, as if she were a dumb pet that understood.”

“I can understand Merry, too,” said Bumpus.

“I believe you can,” said Emily. “That is a side I do so admire in you. We must go after them, Nicholas, and walk about, with you in your gown. It makes me feel homesick that Mr. Merry shouldn’t work any harder than the rest of us. And it is so humiliating that he hasn’t a gown. I wish I could mend your coat, darling. It is really undignified for you to have your clothes mended by Mrs. Merry, as if you were one of the boys.”

“They know we can’t help me,” said Herrick. “But Burgess can be helped, and he looks himself as if he wished he looked older.”

“Well, his heart is in the right place,” said Bumpus.

“And after all, they would know that we shouldn’t have anyone really mature for him,” said Emily. “But he copies Nicholas, so that they know that Nicholas’ influence permeates the school; and that is bad. And then they ask, and find it doesn’t, and that again is bad.”

“Fletcher is to give the prizes,” said Herrick. “It has to be a parson. I don’t know why.”

“Well, God does like reward,” said Bumpus.

“It is a great thing that Burgess at his age isn’t a parson,” said Masson.

“It is a great success for him. I wonder if he thought of it, himself,” said Bumpus. “Of course he did not have to think of it.”

“I wish Mr. Merry did not look so affectionately at the boys,” said Emily. “It makes Nicholas look so dreadful by comparison. And we don’t realize how bad I look by Mrs. Merry; so unmotherly. And suppose anyone should take Mr. Burgess for a boy, or forget Miss Basden!”

“Does Miss Basden not like being forgotten?” said Masson, as one not disliking this himself.

“She is morbid about it,” said Bumpus. “I have not spoken to her, but I can see that.”

“Don’t be superior to women, and more so to those who earn their living, Dickie,” said Emily. “It is so revealing of you. And not spoken to Miss Basden, when but for her you would have to support most of your nearest friends! You would find it so difficult to do it too. I believe Miss Basden does it.”

“Will there be a great crowd?” said Herrick.

“Well, we ought to want that,” said Masson.

“How generously you both identify yourself with us!” said Emily. “Most of the parents are coming. I hope it doesn’t mean that they want to look into things, or reassure themselves, or anything like that.”

“Will you make the speech on the spur of the moment, Herrick?” said Masson.

“Nicholas can’t spend his genius on speeches for boys,” said Emily. “He has his book to give it to.”

“People don’t really make speeches on the spur of the moment,” said Bumpus. “Merry will make it.”

“I thought an outsider always made the speech,” said Masson; “that the schoolmaster’s business was not to praise his own school, and all that.”

“You thought Merry’s business was not that?” said Bumpus. “Then what did you think his business was?”

“You know an outsider is not called in here to do anything,” said Emily. “Mr. Merry does it. And you should not call Nicholas an outsider, when our business today is to prove that he is not one. Now we must go and serve under Mr. Merry.”

“They also serve who only stand and wait,” said Bumpus.

“Don’t notice it when you see Nicholas not being himself,” said Emily. “His real self really doesn’t do. And go up and shake hands with Miss Basden. And don’t be arch and joking with Mr. Burgess, as if he were young.”

Mrs. Merry and Miss Basden were talking in easy tones, with a nervous unconsciousness of what they said.

“How do you do, Miss Herrick?” said Mrs. Merry.

“Oh, Mrs. Merry, what are you doing?” said Miss Basden.

“Poor Miss Herrick, to be forgotten!” said Mr. Burgess, advancing to Emily with his hands under his gown, and drawing Mr. Merry’s glance.

“Oh, really, Miss Herrick! Well! What am I doing? It is the idea of shaking hands with so many people.”

“Yes, Mother,” said Mr. Merry, uneasily.

Herrick stepped on to the platform in gown and hood, his expression inviting attention to himself. Mr. Burgess, conscious of his similar garb, took his place near him, and exchanged an easy word. Mr. Merry, who had no right to a gown and hood, stepped up after them, and stood surveying his pupils with an air of fond understanding of boys.

“Now I am not much of a hand at speechmaking. What I do is to teach my boys, and be with my boys, and give all my time to my boys. But what I want to say to you all is, that I am glad to see you all amongst us today; that my wife is glad, and my kind helpers are glad; and Mr. Herrick and Miss Herrick, whom you have really come to see, of course, are glad. In fact we are all glad to be together, to celebrate the good work done by our boys; by your boys, and by my boys; for I have boys, you know, though I have only girls, really, if I may be very Irish for a schoolmaster. And the prizes are not won only by those who have won them, you know, though that sounds Irish again; for we don’t overdo things in the old-fashioned way, you know. So we will see the prize-winners take their prizes, and the other prize earners”⁠—Mr. Merry glanced with tender pride round at the boys⁠—“show how glad they are that they have won them; which seems to be more Irish than ever.”

Mr. Merry stepped down amid clapping from the boys. Mr. Fletcher did his part with covert reference to a sheet of paper. The youngest boy presented flowers to Mrs. Merry.

Mrs. Merry took her stand behind a table furnished by a consistence of fate with cups and an urn.

“Well, Mr. Merry,” said a father, “so you haven’t put my boy among the prize-winners? Of course I don’t mean that. But he doesn’t go in for taking prizes, does he?”

“Ah, your boy,” said Mr. Merry, who knew the ill policy of honesty with parents; “and a nice boy too! No, he doesn’t go in for taking prizes. No, not yet. But I tell you what.” Mr. Merry’s voice became intimate. “If I had a boy, I should like him to be your boy. I will tell you that.”

Mr. Merry passed on, and paused at Mrs. Merry’s table.

“Now, Mother, now, don’t get all into a fuss. The result of all this will be that you are knocked up. I can see that.”

Mr. Merry had not meant his words for the general ear, but had been more occupied with the feelings which prompted them, than caution in their utterance.

“Now, Mother, it is all right, Mother. You are just a little overdone. That is what it is. We know what it is. We don’t think anything of anything.” Mr. Merry referred in this way to the fact that Mrs. Merry was in tears. “It is just because you look after us all too well. That is what it is.”

“Well, Mr. Merry,” said another father. “And what have you to say for those two boys of mine?”

“Ah, the little fellows! My wife, she has a soft spot in her heart for them.”

“And how do they do at their books? John is a scatterbrain, I am afraid. I suppose these long holidays nowadays are a good thing?”

“Ah, little John! Well, some boys haven’t the brains to scatter. And all work and no play, you know!”

“He would not like to be called little John,” said a grown-up sister, who was with the father.

“Wouldn’t he?” said Emily. “Not when we only keep them until they are fourteen! But the young are cruel.”

“Ah, Miss Herrick, you will talk in your way to us,” said Mr. Merry. “You know Miss Basden, do you not, Mr. Bentley?”

“No, I think not,” said Mr. Bentley, simply.

“Why, she is always here, Father. Every year,” said the daughter. “How are you, Miss Basden?”

“She is always here. Every year here with us,” said Mr. Merry, lifting his hands on and off Miss Basden’s shoulders. “Always here, so that people don’t notice her any more than they do one of ourselves. Because she is one of ourselves, if she will be, aren’t you, Miss Basden?”

“You see the difference between ordinary people and Mr. Merry,” said Emily to Bumpus. “And you said you did not know Miss Basden. You rank with the ordinary people.”

“I always suspected it,” said Bumpus.

“Mr. Herrick is just bringing out another book, is he not?” said Mr. Bentley. “Is it on any subject that the boys could get any⁠—be interested in now, I mean?”

“Oh well, well, you know, if Mr. Herrick wrote on a subject, then the book would not be his own. And that would not do for Mr. Herrick. And writing for boys! Well, we could not expect that from him. But there is our atmosphere; our thing that we have to give, that other schools don’t give. And that only Mr. Herrick can do for us. Ah, and he does it for us. I wish I had had it in my young days. Then I might not have been the schoolmaster now. I might have been the other thing. And I hope your laddies will be it. I do hope it. And, bless them, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Mr. Merry wrung Mr. Bentley’s hand.

“Well, Mr. Burgess, so you are going about, are you, Mr. Burgess? Now what about this theory that we don’t want long holidays? That is not quite on your line, is it?”

“Well, I dare say there is something in it, Mr. Merry. When I first became a schoolmaster, I thought I should never get used to the breaks from work. But I confess I am becoming reconciled. That is the way of schoolmasters, I fear.”

“Oh, well, that is one kind of talk, Mr. Burgess. But what would you have done, now, if you had not become a schoolmaster?”

“Oh, you are off the point, Mr. Merry.”

“Not at all, not at all. What would you have done, now, if you had not taken up schoolmastering?”

“No, no, off the point, Mr. Merry.”

“Mr. Burgess seems deeply attached to the point,” said Miss Basden.

“It should attract even the humblest educationist, Miss Basden,” said Mr. Burgess, bowing.

“Well, Mr. Merry is an educationist, I suppose you will admit?” said Miss Basden.

“Surely,” said Mr. Burgess.

“Ah, we understand each other, don’t we, Mr. Burgess?” said Mr. Merry. “With your kind help, Miss Basden, and all you do for all of us.”

“Well, it wasn’t quite so degrading as usual, was it?” said Emily, as the four settled into Herrick’s study. “Nobody spoke to me like an employer. Did anybody to you, Nicholas?”

“It went off admirably,” said Herrick. “Admirably. I quite enjoyed it. I should feel quite proud of the school, as I thought a school a thing to be proud of. And Merry surpassed himself.”

“I saw you enjoying it,” said Emily. “I saw you being proud of the school, too. That was charming of you. But I followed the workings of Mr. Merry’s mind too sensitively for enjoyment. A great mind on the rack would be a dreadful thing to enjoy. And he did not always surpass himself. He was really indefinite with Mr. Bentley about his boys.”

“Oh, only with that kind of fellow,” said Herrick.

“How can you be so reckless?” said Bumpus. “Or is that the attitude that makes for success?”

“With Merry behind, it will do,” said Herrick.

“We shall have to propitiate Mr. Bentley,” said Emily. “I am afraid it will not do, darling. Mr. Bentley isn’t so fond of your having Mr. Merry behind as you think.”

“How will you do that?” said Bumpus. “By having Merry qualify?”

“By asking Mr. Bentley to dinner,” said Emily. “Being for an evening with Nicholas teaches people better than anything. And it is difficult for them to behave like employers when they have been our guests. We ought to have him while the house is disarranged; and we will ask the Fletchers too.”

“Is a disarranged house better for a dinner?” said Masson.

“Yes,” said Emily. “This room has to be regarded as the drawing-room, and a classroom made into the dining-room, and the boys’ basement dining-room suppressed, to have anything at all. And Mrs. Merry can’t be asked to do that often.”

“No, no,” said Herrick.

“You will have to ask her about the dinner, darling,” said Emily. “She never can speak to you, so she won’t be able to say words of refusal.”

“Why cannot you ask her as often as you want, if she can’t say words of refusal?” said Bumpus.

“You are so unmanly about Mrs. Merry, Dickie,” said Emily.

“I feel rather unmanly about her,” said Bumpus.

“I feel unmanly in asking her this,” said Herrick.

“You think it is unwomanly of me to ask you to,” said Emily. “But I have not the true courage that is womanly. It is being so much with men. But how you do realize the domestic problem, Nicholas! You are better than either Dickie or William at that. I think it must mean that you have the mixture of the feminine and masculine, known to be in genius. I feel so hopeful about your book.”

“Ah, Herrick, the time for our exposure gets near, doesn’t it?” said Bumpus.

“Yes, yes, it does,” said Herrick. “It does get near, indeed. And it will be something of an exposure for me. Because my book brings out really a new self in me, a self that I was hardly conscious was there, myself.”

“Yes, books do come out queerly in that way,” said Bumpus. “Now my book shows an old side of me; a young side, I might say, that I thought had been covered up for twenty years. I wonder if any of you will find my old self in it.”

“I suppose that is the difference between an author and an ordinary man,” said Emily. “Because of course there must be some difference. An author does things from a new self or an old self, and an ordinary man just from his ordinary self, as if he were doing an ordinary thing, which of course he is. I am glad that Nicholas’ is the new self, because his early one might not make a book quite suitable for a schoolmaster, for a schoolmaster to write.”

“Do you remember, how Herrick once said he could live without Emily?” said Masson, as he and Bumpus left the house.

“William,” said Bumpus, “you know there is a thing I will do for you, if you want it done? If you want to marry Emily, it could be easily managed about Herrick. You might have to live with him. That would be easy. Or he could live with you. That would be easy. You are a rich man. I mean, I would bring the thing to Emily, if you would find less surface trouble so. I could bring her mind in turn to you. I would do my best, I would do well, between you.”

“Richard, I will say it to you,” said Masson. “I am grateful enough, to understand you. I know what you think it might mean of change for you. I would accept it, if I needed it. I would take anything from you. But if I had wished to marry Emily, if she had wished to marry me; I will say the first; it would have been enough; I should have asked her many years ago. I should not have thought of Herrick, to be plain. I should ask her now, if the desire came to me. I should ask her myself, like the ordinary man I am.”

“Of course you would,” said Bumpus. “I see now. I never saw before. But I meant well. Oh, but I believe you know how well I meant.”

“I would take anything from you,” said Masson. “But I would have you understand my feeling for Emily. I have all you supposed I might have for her. And I hope she has something for me. I hope and believe it. For it means a great thing in my life for me. But you are the more necessary to me, as her brother is to her. That is not to say that you and he are exactly first to either of us. Do you see?”

“Yes,” said Bumpus. “I think I have always seen.”