community by running away, I don't
myself profess to see what is to be done with them."

Fortunately for the boys, Mr. Vanstone's views were still fast
imprisoned in the ordinary prejudices. At his intercession, and through
his influence, Frank, Cecil, and Arthur were received on the foundation
of a well-reputed grammar-school. In holiday-time they were mercifully
allowed the run of Mr. Vanstone's paddock; and were humanized and
refined by association, indoors, with Mrs. Vanstone and her daughters.
On these occasions, Mr. Clare used sometimes to walk across from his
cottage (in his dressing-gown and slippers), and look at the boys
disparagingly, through the window or over the fence, as if they were
three wild animals whom his neighbor was attempting to tame. "You and
your wife are excellent people," he used to say to Mr. Vanstone. "I
respect your honest prejudices in favor of those boys of mine with all
my heart. But you are _so_ wrong about them--you are indeed! I wish to
give no offense; I speak quite impartially--but mark my words, Vanstone:
they'll all three turn out ill, in spite of everything you can do to
prevent it."

In later years, when Frank had reached the age of seventeen, the same
curious shifting of the relative positions of parent and friend between
the two neighbors was exemplified more absurdly than ever. A civil
engineer in the north of England, who owed certain obligations to Mr.
Vanstone, expressed his willingness to take Frank under superintendence,
on terms of the most favorable kind. When this proposal was received,
Mr. Clare, as usual, first shifted his own character as Frank's father
on Mr. Vanstone's shoulders--and then moderated his neighbor's parental
enthusiasm from the point of view of an impartial spectator.

"It's the finest chance for Frank that could possibly have happened,"
cried Mr. Vanstone, in a glow of fatherly enthusiasm.

"My good fellow, he won't take it," retorted Mr. Clare, with the icy
composure of a disinterested friend.

"But he _shall_ take it," persisted Mr. Vanstone.

"Say he shall have a mathematical head," rejoined Mr. Clare; "say he
shall possess industry, ambition, and firmness of purpose. Pooh! pooh!
you don't look at him with my impartial eyes. I say, No mathematics, no
industry, no ambition, no firmness of purpose. Frank is a compound of
negatives--and there they are."

"Hang your negatives!" shouted Mr. Vanstone. "I don't care a rush
for negatives, or a