ola; Agnes,
who was still drunk with her engagement, was of no assistance, but kept
flying up to London to push Rickie's fortunes; and, to crown everything,
the matron was too bright and not motherly enough: she neglected the
little boys and was overattentive to the big ones. She left abruptly,
and the voice of Mrs. Jackson arose, prophesying disaster.

Should he avert it by taking orders? Parents do not demand that a
house-master should be a clergyman, yet it reassures them when he is.
And he would have to take orders some time, if he hoped for a school
of his own. His religious convictions were ready to hand, but he spent
several uncomfortable days hunting up his religious enthusiasms. It
was not unlike his attempt to marry Mrs. Orr. But his piety was more
genuine, and this time he never came to the point. His sense of decency
forbade him hurrying into a Church that he reverenced. Moreover, he
thought of another solution: Agnes must marry Rickie in the Christmas
holidays, and they must come, both of them, to Sawston, she as
housekeeper, he as assistant-master. The girl was a good worker when
once she was settled down; and as for Rickie, he could easily be fitted
in somewhere in the school. He was not a good classic, but good enough
to take the Lower Fifth. He was no athlete, but boys might profitably
note that he was a perfect gentleman all the same. He had no experience,
but he would gain it. He had no decision, but he could simulate it.
"Above all," thought Mr. Pembroke, "it will be something regular for
him to do." Of course this was not "above all." Dunwood House held that
position. But Mr. Pembroke soon came to think that it was, and believed
that he was planning for Rickie, just as he had believed he was pining
for Mrs. Orr.

Agnes, when she got back from the lunch in Soho, was told of the plan.
She refused to give any opinion until she had seen her lover. A telegram
was sent to him, and next morning he arrived. He was very susceptible to
the weather, and perhaps it was unfortunate that the morning was foggy.
His train had been stopped outside Sawston Station, and there he had
sat for half an hour, listening to the unreal noises that came from the
line, and watching the shadowy figures that worked there. The gas was
alight in the great drawing-room, and in its depressing rays he and
Agnes greeted each other, and discussed the most momentous question of
their lives. They wanted to be married: there was no doubt