“Like my 'august leader's'!” said Magennis, proudly.
“Ay, or like that young gentleman's there,” said Father Neal, with the tone of a man pronouncing upon what he understood. “I watched him to-day at dinner, and I saw that every remark he made was shrewd and acute, and that whenever the subject was new to him, he fell into it as he went on talking, picking up his facts while he seemed to be discussing them! Take my word for it, gentlemen, he 'll do!”
“He does n't know much about flax, anyhow,” muttered old Hayes.
“He took his punch like a man,” said Brierley, bearing testimony on a point where his evidence was sure to have weight.
“He'll do!” said Father Neal once more, and still more authoritatively than before.
“Joe carried away every premium from him,” said old Nelligan, with a degree of irritation that proclaimed how little he enjoyed the priest's eulogy of his guest.
“I know he did, sir; and no man has a higher respect for your son's great abilities than myself; but here 's how it is, Mr. Nelligan,”—and he drew himself up like a man about to deliver a profound opinion,—“here 's how it is. The mind that can master abstract science is one thing; the faculties that can deal with fellow-mortals is another. This world is not a University!”
“The Lord be praised for that same!” cried old Hayes, “or I 'm afraid I 'd fare badly in it.”
“To unite both descriptions of talent,” resumed the priest, oratorically, “is the gift of but few.”
“My 'august leader' has them,” broke in Magennis.