Watersprings | Page 6

obscure to him. Howard's own nature was at once intellectual and
imaginative, but he felt an extreme delight in the fearless and direct
confidence which the boy showed in him. He criticised his work

unsparingly, he rallied him on his tastes, he snubbed him, but all with a
sense of real and instinctive sympathy which made everything easy.
The boy never resented anything that he said, asked his advice, looked
to him to get him out of any small difficulties that arose. They were not
very much together, and mostly met only on official occasions. Howard
was a busy man, and had little time, or indeed taste, for vague
conversation. Jack was a boy of natural tact, and he treated all the
authorities with the same unembarrassed directness. Undergraduates
are quick to remark on any sort of favouritism, but only if they think
that the favoured person gets any unfair advantage by his intimacy. But
Howard came down on Jack just as decisively as he came down on
anyone else whose work was unsatisfactory. It was known that they
were a sort of cousins; and, moreover, Jack Sandys was generally
popular, though only in his first year, because he was free from any
touch of uppishness, and of an imperturbable good-humour.
But his own feeling for the boy surprised Howard. He did not think him
very interesting, nor had they much in common except a perfect
goodwill. It was to Howard as if Jack represented something beyond
and further than himself, for which Howard cared--as one might love a
house for the sake of someone that had inhabited it, or because of
events that had happened there. He tried vaguely to interest Jack in
some of the things he cared about, but wholly in vain. That cheerful
youth went quietly on his own way--modest, handsome, decided,
knowing exactly what he liked, with very material tastes and ambitions,
not in the least emotional or imaginative, and yet with a charm of
which all were conscious. He was bored by any violent attempts at
friendship, and quite content in almost anyone's company, naturally
self-contained and temperate, making no claims and giving no pledges;
and yet Howard was deeply haunted by the sense that Jack stood for
something almost bewilderingly fine which he himself could not
comprehend or interpret, and of which the boy himself was wholly and
radiantly unconscious. It gave him, indeed, a sudden warmth about the
heart to see Jack in the court, or even to think of him as living within
the same walls; but there was nothing jealous or exclusive about his
interest, and when they met, there was often nothing particular to say.

Presently lunch was announced, and Howard led the way to a little
panelled parlour which looked out on the river. They both ate with
healthy appetites; and presently Jack, looking about him, said, "This
room is rather nice! I don't know how you make your rooms so nice?"
"Mostly by having very little in them except what I want," said Howard.
"These panelled rooms don't want any ornaments; people spoil rooms
by stuffing them, just as you spoil my cat,"--Jack was feeding the cat
with morsels from his plate.
"It's a nice cat," said Jack; "at least I like it in your rooms. I wouldn't
have one in my rooms, not if I were paid for it--it would be what the
Master calls a serious responsibility." Presently, after a moment's
silence, Jack said, "It's rather convenient to be related to a don, I think.
By the way, what sort of screw do they give you--I mean your
income--I suppose I oughtn't to ask?"
"It isn't usually done," said Howard, "but I don't mind your asking, and
I don't mind your knowing. I have about six hundred a year here."
"Oh, then I was right," said Jack. "Symonds said that all the dons had
about fifteen hundred a year out of the fees; he said that it wouldn't be
worth their while to do it for less. But I said it was much less. My
father only gets about two hundred a year out of his living, and it all
goes to keep me at Cambridge. He says that when he is vexed about
things; but he must have plenty of his own. I wish he would really tell
me. Don't you think people ought to tell their sons about their
incomes?"
"I am afraid you are a very mercenary person," said Howard.
"No, I'm not," said Jack; "only I think one ought to know, and then one
could arrange. Father's awfully good about it, really; but if ever I spend
too much, he shakes his head and talks about the workhouse. I used to
be frightened, but I don't believe in the workhouse now."
When luncheon