'Why, Jem, old fellow, what are you about? You've not been near my rooms this term. Are you renouncing me in anticipation of my plucking?'
'You won't be plucked unless you go out of your senses for the occasion.'
'No thanks to your advice and assistance if I am not. But it would conduce to my equanimity, Jem, to know whether we are quarrelling, as in that case I should know how to demean myself.'
'I've no quarrel with you. You have far more reason—But,' added Jem, catching himself up, 'don't you know I have no leisure for trifling? The Ordination is the second week in March.'
'The Ordination!'
'Ay—you know it! My fellowship depends on it.'
'I never liked to contemplate it.' He sat down and mused, while James continued his occupation. Presently he said, 'Look here. Sir Miles Oakstead asked me if I had any clever Oxford friend to recommend. If he comes into office, he—'
'I'll be no great man's hanger-on.'
'This matter is not imminent. You are barely four-and-twenty. Wait a year or two; even a few months would—'
'You have tried my forbearance often enough,' broke in James; 'my object is—as you very well know—to maintain myself and mine without being liable to obnoxious patronage. If you think I should disgrace the office, speak out!'