Watersprings | Page 5

recognised the justice, and so they would go back to mutton and
beef and stick to them, and then he bowed us out. Now the Bursar
would send for the cook, and they would mingle their tears together."

Howard laughed again, but made no comment, and presently said he
must go back to work. As they went in, Mr. Redmayne put his hand in
Howard's arm, and said, "Don't mind me, my young friend! I like to
have my growl, but I am proud of the old place, and you do a great deal
for it."
Howard smiled, and tucked the old man's hand closer to his side with a
movement of his arm. "I shall come and fetch you out again some
morning," he said.
He got back to his rooms at ten o'clock, and a moment afterwards a
young man appeared in a gown. Howard sat down at his table, pulled a
chair up to his side, produced a corrected piece of Latin prose, made
some criticisms and suggestions, and ended up by saying, "That's a
good piece! You have improved a good deal lately, and that would get
you a solid mark." Then he sat for a minute or two talking about the
books his pupil was reading, and indicating the points he was to look
out for, till at half-past ten another youth appeared to go through the
same process. This went on until twelve o'clock. Howard's manner was
kindly and business-like, and the undergraduates were very much at
their ease. One of them objected to one of his criticisms. Howard
turned to a dictionary and showed him a paragraph. "You will see I am
right," he said, "but don't hesitate to object to anything I say--these
usages are tricky things!" The undergraduate smiled and nodded.
Just before twelve o'clock he was left alone for five minutes, and a
servant brought in a note. Howard opened it, and taking a sheet of
paper, began to write. At the hour a youth appeared, of very boyish
aspect, curly-haired, fresh-looking, ingenuous. Howard greeted him
with a smile. "Half a minute, Jack!" he said. "There's the paper--not the
Sportsman, I'm afraid, but you can console yourself while I just finish
this note." The boy sat down by the fire, but instead of taking the paper,
drew a solemn-looking cat, which was sitting regarding the hearth, on
to his knee, and began playing with it. Presently Howard threw his pen
down. "Come along," he said. The boy, still carrying the cat, came and
sat down beside him. The lesson proceeded as before, but there was a
slight difference in Howard's manner of speech, as of an uncle with a

favourite nephew. At the end, he pushed the paper into the boy's hand,
and said, "No, that isn't good enough, you know; it's all too casual--it
isn't a bit like Latin: you don't do me credit!" He spoke incisively
enough, but shook his head with a smile. The boy said nothing, but got
up, vaguely smiling, and holding the cat tucked under his arm--a
charming picture of healthy and indifferent youth. Then he said in a
rich infantile voice, "Oh, it's all right. I didn't do myself justice this
time. You shall see!"
At this moment the old servant came in and asked Howard if he would
take lunch.
"Yes; I won't go into Hall," said Howard. "Lunch for two--you can stay
and lunch with me, Jack; and I will give you a lecture about your sins."
The boy said, "Yes, thanks very much; I'd love to."
Jack Sandys was a pupil of Howard's in whom he had a special interest.
He was the son of Frank Sandys, the Vicar of the Somersetshire parish
where Mrs. Graves, Howard's aunt, lived at the Manor-house. Frank
Sandys was a cousin of Mrs. Graves' deceased husband. She had
advised the Vicar to send Jack to Beaufort, and had written specially
commending him to Howard's care. But the boy had needed little
commendation. From the first moment that Jack Sandys had appeared,
smiling and unembarrassed, in Howard's room, a relation that was
almost filial and paternal had sprung up between them. He had treated
Howard from the outset with an innocent familiarity, and asked him the
most direct questions. He was not a particularly intellectual youth,
though he had some vague literary interests; but he was entirely healthy,
good, and quite irresistibly charming in his naivete and simplicity.
Howard had a dislike of all sentimentality, but the suppressed paternal
instinct which was strong in him had been awakened; and though he
made no emotional advances, he found himself strangely drawn to the
boy, with a feeling for which he could not wholly account. He did not
care for Jack's athletic interests; his tastes and mental processes were