rovide a brainless young idiot with the
means of self-indulgence. I leave my money to somebody worthy of me.
Understand, sir?--somebody worthy of me."

Mrs. Grindley commenced a sentence; Mr. Grindley turned his small eyes
upon her. The sentence remained unfinished.

"You were about to say something," her husband reminded her.

Mrs. Grindley said it was nothing.

"If it is anything worth hearing--if it is anything that will assist the
discussion, let's have it." Mr. Grindley waited. "If not, if you
yourself do not consider it worth finishing, why have begun it?"

Mr. Grindley returned to his son and heir. "You haven't done too well at
school--in fact, your school career has disappointed me."

"I know I'm not clever," Grindley junior offered as an excuse.

"Why not? Why aren't you clever?"

His son and heir was unable to explain.

"You are my son--why aren't you clever? It's laziness, sir; sheer
laziness!"

"I'll try and do better at Oxford, sir--honour bright I will!"

"You had better," advised him his father; "because I warn you, your whole
future depends upon it. You know me. You've got to be a credit to me,
to be worthy of the name of Grindley--or the name, my boy, is all you'll
have."

Old Grindley meant it, and his son knew that he meant it. The old
Puritan principles and instincts were strong in the old gentleman--formed,
perhaps, the better part of him. Idleness was an abomination to him;
devotion to pleasure, other than the pleasure of money-making, a grievous
sin in his eyes. Grindley junior fully intended to do well at Oxford,
and might have succeeded. In accusing himself of lack of cleverness, he
did himself an injustice. He had brains, he had energy, he had
character. Our virtues can be our stumbling-blocks as well as our vices.
Young Grindley had one admirable virtue that needs, above all others,
careful controlling: he was amiability itself. Before the charm and
sweetness of it, Oxford snobbishness went down. The Sauce, against the
earnest counsel of its own advertisement, was forgotten; the pickles
passed by. To escape the natural result of his popularity would have
needed a stronger will than young Grindley possessed. For a time the
true state of affairs was hidden from the eye of Grindley senior. To
"slack" it this term, with the full determination of "swotting" it the
next, is always easy; the difficulty beginning only with the new term.
Possibly with luck young Grindl