‘Let me see, Le Breton,’ Dr. Greatrex observed to the new master, ‘you’ve taken rooms for yourself in West Street for the present—you’ll take a house on the parade by-and-by, no doubt. Now, which church do you mean to go to?’

‘Well, really,’ Ernest answered, taken a little aback at the suddenness of the question, ‘I haven’t had time to think about it yet.’

The doctor frowned slightly. ‘Not had time to think about it,’ he repeated, rather severely. ‘Not had time to think about such a serious question as your particular place of worship! You quite surprise me. Well, if you’ll allow me to make a suggestion in the matter it would be that you and Mrs. Le Breton should take seats, for the present at least, at St. Martha’s. The parish church is high, decidedly high, and I wouldn’t recommend you to go there; most of our parents don’t approve of it. You’re an Oxford man, I know, and so I suppose you’re rather high yourself; but in this particular matter I would strongly advise you to subordinate your own personal feelings to the parents’ wishes. Then there’s St. Jude’s; St. Jude’s is distinctly low—quite Evangelical in fact: indeed, I may say, scarcely what I should consider sound church principles at all in any way; and I think you ought most certainly to avoid it sedulously. Evangelicism is on the decline at present in Pilbury Regis. As to St. Barnabas—Barabbas they call it generally, a most irreverent joke, but, of course, inevitable—Barabbas is absolutely Ritualistic. Many of our parents object to it most strongly. But St. Martha’s is a quiet, moderate, inoffensive church in every respect—sound and sensible, and free from all extremes. You can give no umbrage to anybody, even the most cantankerous, by going to St. Martha’s. The High Church people fraternise with it on the one hand, and the moderate church people fraternise with it on the other, while as to the Evangelicals and the dissenters, they hardly contribute any boys to the school, or if they do, they don’t object to unobtrusive church principles. Indeed, my experience has been, Le Breton, that even the most rabid dissenters prefer to have their sons educated by a sound, moderate, high-principled, and, if I may say so, neutral-tinted church clergyman.’ And the doctor complacently pulled his white tie straight before the big gilt-framed drawing-room mirror.

‘Then, again,’ the doctor went on placidly in a bland tone of mild persuasion, ‘there’s the question of politics. Politics are a very ticklish matter, I can assure you, in Pilbury Regis. Have you any fixed political opinions of your own, Le Breton, or are you waiting to form them till you’ve had some little experience in your profession?’

‘My opinions,’ Ernest answered timidly, ‘so far as they can be classed under any of the existing political formulas at all, are decidedly Liberal—I may even say Radical.’

The doctor bit his lip and frowned severely. ‘Radical,’ he said, slowly, with a certain delicate tinge of acerbity in his tone. ‘That’s bad. If you will allow me to interpose in the matter, I should strongly advise you, for your own sake, to change them at once and entirely. I don’t object to moderate Liberalism—perhaps as many as one-third of our parents are moderate Liberals; but decidedly the most desirable form of political belief for a successful schoolmaster is a quiet and gentlemanly, but unswerving Conservatism. I don’t say you ought to be an uncompromising old-fashioned Tory—far from it: that alienates not only the dissenters, but even the respectable middle-class Liberals. What is above all things expected in a schoolmaster is a central position in politics, so to speak—a careful avoidance of all extremes—a readiness to welcome all reasonable progress, while opposing in a conciliatory spirit all revolutionary or excessive changes—in short, an attitude of studied moderation. That, if you will allow me to advise you, Le Breton, is the sort of thing, you may depend upon it, that most usually meets the wishes of the largest possible number of pupils’ parents.’

‘I’m afraid,’ Ernest answered, as respectfully as possible, ‘my political convictions are too deeply seated to be subordinated to my professional interests.’

‘Eh! What!’ the doctor cried sharply. ‘Subordinate your principles to your personal interests! Oh, pray don’t mistake me so utterly as that! Not at all, not at all, my dear Le Breton. I don’t mean that for the shadow of a second. What I mean is rather this,’ and here the doctor cleared his throat and pulled round his white tie a second time, ‘that a schoolmaster, considering attentively what is best for his pupils, mark you—we all exist for our pupils, you know, my dear fellow, don’t we?—a schoolmaster should avoid such action as may give any unnecessary scandal, you see, or seem to clash with the ordinary opinion of the pupils’ parents. Of course, if your views are fully formed, and are of a mildly Liberal complexion (put it so, I beg of you, and don’t use that distressful word Radical), I wouldn’t for the world have you act contrary to them. But I wouldn’t have you obtrude them too ostentatiously—for your own sake, Le Breton, for your own sake, I assure you. Remember, you’re a very young man yet: you have plenty of time before you to modify your opinions in: as you go on, you’ll modify them—moderate them—bring them into harmony with the average opinions of ordinary parents. Don’t commit yourself at present—that’s all I would say to you—don’t commit yourself at present. When you’re as old as I am, my dear fellow, you’ll see through all these youthful extravagances.’

‘And as to the church, Mr. Le Breton,’ said Mrs. Greatrex, with bland suggestiveness from the ottoman, ‘of course, we regard the present very unsatisfactory arrangement as only temporary. The doctor hopes in time to get a chapel built, which is much nicer for the boys, and also more convenient for the masters and their families—they all have seats, of course, in the chancel. At Charlton College, where the doctor was an assistant for some years, before we came to Pilbury, there was one of the under-masters, a young man of very good family, who took such an interest in the place that he not only contributed a hundred pounds out of his own pocket towards building a chapel, but also got ever so many of his wealthy friends elsewhere to subscribe, first to that, and then to the organ and stained-glass window. We’ve got up a small building fund here ourselves already, of which the doctor’s treasurer, and we hope before many years to have a really nice chapel, with good music and service well done—the kind of thing that’ll be of use to the school, and have an excellent moral effect upon the boys in the way of religious training.’

‘No doubt,’ Ernest answered evasively, ‘you’ll soon manage to raise the money in such a place as Pilbury.’

‘No doubt,’ the doctor replied, looking at him with a searching glance, and evidently harbouring an uncomfortable suspicion, already, that this young man had not got the mo............