None Other Gods | Page 6

life in which one did not express any particular views:
one did not say one's prayers; one attended chapel at the proper times;
if one was musical, one occasionally went to King's on Sunday
afternoon; in the country one went to church on Sunday morning as one
went to the stables in the afternoon, and that was about all.

Frank had been, too, so extremely secretive about the whole thing. He
had marched into Jack's rooms in Jesus Lane one morning nearly a
fortnight ago.
"Come to mass at the Catholic Church," he said.
"Why, the--" began Jack.
"I've got to go. I'm a Catholic."
"What!"
"I became one last week."
Jack had stared at him, suddenly convinced that someone was mad.
When he had verified that it was really a fact; that Frank had placed
himself under instruction three months before, and had made his
confession--(his confession!)--on Friday, and had been conditionally
baptized; when he had certified himself of all these things, and had
begun to find coherent language once more, he had demanded why
Frank had done this.
"Because it's the true religion," said Frank. "Are you coming to mass or
are you not?"
Jack had gone then, and had come away more bewildered than ever as
to what it was all about. He had attempted to make a few inquiries, but
Frank had waved his hands at him, and repeated that obviously the
Catholic religion was the true one, and that he couldn't be bothered.
And now here they were at tea in Jesus Lane for the last time.
* * * * *
Of course, there was a little suppressed excitement about Frank. He
drank three cups of tea and took the last (and the under) piece of
buttered bun without apologies, and he talked a good deal, rather fast. It
seemed that he had really no particular plans as to what he was going to
do after he had walked out of Cambridge with his carpet-bag early next

morning. He just meant, he said, to go along and see what happened.
He had had a belt made, which pleased him exceedingly, into which his
money could be put (it lay on the table between them during tea), and
he proposed, naturally, to spend as little of that money as possible....
No; he would not take one penny piece from Jack; it would be simply
scandalous if he--a public-school boy and an University man--couldn't
keep body and soul together by his own labor. There would be
hay-making presently, he supposed, and fruit-picking, and small jobs
on farms. He would just go along and see what happened. Besides there
were always casual wards, weren't there? if the worst came to the worst;
and he'd meet other men, he supposed, who'd put him in the way of
things. Oh! he'd get on all right.
Would he ever come to Barham? Well, if it came in the day's work he
would. Yes: certainly he'd be most obliged if his letters might be sent
there, and he could write for them when he wanted, or even call for
them, if, as he said, it came in the day's work.
What was he going to do in the winter? He hadn't the slightest idea. He
supposed, what other people did in the winter. Perhaps he'd have got a
place by then--gamekeeper, perhaps--he'd like to be a gamekeeper.
At this Jack, mentally, threw up the sponge.
"You really mean to go on at this rotten idea of yours?"
Frank opened his eyes wide.
"Why, of course. Good Lord! did you think I was bluffing?"
"But ... but it's perfectly mad. Why on earth don't you get a proper
situation somewhere--land-agent or something?"
"My dear man," said Frank, "if you will have it, it's because I want to
do exactly what I'm going to do. No--I'm being perfectly serious. I've
thought for ages that we're all wrong somehow. We're all so beastly
artificial. I don't want to preach, but I want to test things for myself. My
religion tells me--" He broke off. "No; this is fooling. I'm going to do it

because I'm going to do it. And I'm really going to do it. I'm not going
to be an amateur--like slumming. I'm going to find out things for
myself."
"But on the roads--" expostulated Jack.
"Exactly. That's the very point. Back to the land."
Jack sat up.
"Good Lord!" he said. "Why, I never thought of it."
"What?"
"It's your old grandmother coming out."
Frank stared.
"Grandmother?"
"Yes--old Mrs. Kelly."
Frank laughed suddenly and loudly.
"By George!" he said, "I daresay it is. Old Grandmamma Kelly! She
was a gipsy--so she was. I believe you've hit it, Jack. Let's see: she was
my grandfather's second wife, wasn't she?"
Jack nodded.
"And he picked her