PROF.  D. I shall be only too thankful.  I rejoice in the having met your grand-daughter, who encouraged me to offer myself.  Is she permanently in town?

MR. A. She shows no inclination to return.  I hoped she would do so after the last competition; but there is always another stage to be mounted.  I wish she would come back, for her mother ought not to be left single-handed; but young people seem to require so much external education in these days, instead of being content to work on at home, that I sometimes question which is more effectual, learning or being taught.

PROF.  D. Being poured-upon versus imbibing?

MR. A. It may depend on what amount there is to imbibe; and I imagine that the child views this region as an arid waste; as of course we are considerably out of date.

PROF.  D. The supply would be a good deal fresher and purer!

MR. A. Do you know anything of her present surroundings?

PROF.  D. I confess that I was surprised to meet her with Mrs. Eyeless, a lady who is active in disseminating Positivism, and all tending that way.  She rather startled me by some of her remarks; but probably it was only jargon and desire to show off.  Have you seen her lately?

MR. A. At Christmas, but only for a short time, when it struck me that she treated us with the patronage of precocious youth; and I thought she made the most of a cold when church or parish was concerned.  I hinted as much; but her mother seemed quite satisfied.  Poor girl!  Have I been blind?  I did not like her going to live at one of those boarding-houses for lady students.  Do you know anything of them?

PROF.  D. Of course all depends on the individual lady at the head, and the responsibility she undertakes, as well as on the tone of the inmates.  With some, it would be only staying in a safe and guarded home.  In others, there is a great amount of liberty, the girls going out without inquiry whether, with whom, or when they return.

MR. A. American fashion!  Well, they say young women are equal to taking care of themselves.  I wonder whether my daughter understands this, or whether it is so at Cecilia’s abode.  Do you know?

PROF.  D. I am afraid I do.  The niece of a friend of mine was there, and left it, much distressed and confused by the agnostic opinions that were freely broached there.  How did your grand-daughter come to choose it?

MR. A. For the sake of being with a friend.  I think Thurston is the name.

PROF.  D. I know something of that family; clever people, but bred up—­on principle, if it can be so called, with their minds a blank as to religion.  I remember seeing one of the daughters at the party where I met Miss Moldwarp.

MR. A. So this is the society into which we have allowed our poor child to run!  I blame myself exceedingly for not having made more inquiries.  Grief made me selfishly passive, or I should have opened my eyes and theirs to the danger.  My poor Mary, what a shock it will be to her!