. So-and-so comes into these parts,
mind you have nothing to do with him, for wrestling is not fit for
gentlemen.' 'All right, mother,' said he, but he laughed, and I knew
what the laugh meant. My dear Sir Percy, I tell you the man hadn't a
chance: I heard of it all afterward. George caught him up before he
could begin any of his tricks and flung him on to the hedge; and there
were a dozen more in our family who could have done it, I'll be bound."

"But then, you know, Mrs. Trelyon," Mr. Roscorla ventured to say,
"physical strength is not everything that is needed. If the doctors
were to let the sickly ones die, we might be losing all sorts of great
poets and statesmen and philosophers."

The old lady turned on him: "And do you think a man has to be sickly to
be clever? No, no, Mr. Roscorla: give him better health and you give him
a better head. That's what we believed in the old days. I fancy, now,
there were greater men before this coddling began than there are
now--yes, I do; and if there is a great man coming into the world, the
chances are just as much that he'll be among the strong ones as among
the sick ones. What do you think, Sir Percy?"

"I declare you're right, madam," said he gallantly. "You've quite
convinced me. Of course, some of 'em must go: I say, Let the sickly ones
go."

"I never heard such brutal, such murderous sentiments expressed in my
life before," said a solemn voice; and every one became aware that at
last Lady Weekes had spoken. Her speech was the signal for universal
silence, in the midst of which the ladies got up and left the room.

Trelyon took his mother's place and sent round the wine. He was
particularly attentive to Mr. Roscorla, who was surprised. Perhaps,
thought the latter, he is anxious to atone for all this bother that is
now happily over.

If the younger man was silent and preoccupied, that was not the case
with Mr. Roscorla, who was already assuming the airs of a rich person,
and speaking of his being unable to live in this district or that
district of London, just as if he expected to purchase a lease of
Buckingham Palace on his return from Jamaica.

"And how are all my old friends in Hans Place, Sir Percy?" he cried.

"You've been a deserter, sir--you've been a deserter for many a year
now," the general said gayly, "but we're all willing to have you back
again to a quiet rubber after dinner, you know. Do you remember old John
Thwaites? Ah, he's gone now--left one hund