s would unfold themselves during the walk from the station, and
that on the revelation of each other's more solid qualities that must
then inevitably ensue, an enduring friendship springing from mutual
respect might be firmly based. A pretty dream,--nothing more. For
Edward, who foresaw that the brunt of tutorial oppression would have
to be borne by him, was sulky, monosyllabic, and determined to be as
negatively disagreeable as good manners would permit. It was therefore
evident that I would have to be spokesman and purveyor of hollow
civilities, and I was none the more amiable on that account; all
courtesies, welcomes, explanations, and other court-chamberlain kind of
business, being my special aversion. There was much of the tempestuous
March weather in the hearts of both of us, as we sullenly glowered along
the carriage-windows of the slackening train.

One is apt, however, to misjudge the special difficulties of a
situation; and the reception proved, after all, an easy and informal
matter. In a trainful so uniformly bucolic, a tutor was readily
recognisable; and his portmanteau had been consigned to the
luggage-cart, and his person conveyed into the lane, before I had
discharged one of my carefully considered sentences. I breathed more
easily, and, looking up at our new friend as we stepped out together,
remembered that we had been counting on something altogether more
arid, scholastic, and severe. A boyish eager face and a petulant
pince-nez,--untidy hair,--a head of constant quick turns like a robin's,
and a voice that kept breaking into alto,--these were all very strange
and new, but not in the least terrible.

He proceeded jerkily through the village, with glances on this side and
that; and "Charming," he broke out presently; "quite too charming and
delightful!"

I had not counted on this sort of thing, and glanced for help to Edward,
who, hands in pockets, looked grimly down his nose. He had taken his
line, and meant to stick to it.

Meantime our friend had made an imaginary spy-glass out of his fist,
and was squinting through it at something I could not perceive. "What an
exquisite bit!" he burst out; "fifteenth century,--no,--yes, it is!"

I began to feel puzzled, not to say alarmed. It reminded me of the
butcher in the Arabian Nights, whose common joints, displayed on the
shop-front, took to a startled public the appearance of dismembered
humanity. This man seemed to see the strangest things in our dul