“He couldn’t conceivably be stupid, any more than I could be a Red Indian. But it is by a misguided ingenuity that he contrives not to pass examinations. It is hardly worth while doing it.”
“Ah, do tell him that,” said Helen. “I think you have influence with him.”
“What on earth makes you think that?”
“He quotes you.”
“Are you sure you do not mean he mimics me? He does it to my face, too, so why not behind my back. It is quite admirable. Ah, I see he has shown you a specimen. Don’t I talk wonderfully like him? But influence,—one might as well sit down and think how to influence a flash of lightning.”
Helen considered this a moment.
“Well, there are such things as lightning-conductors,” she said. “Besides, there are times when Martin isn’t the least like a flash of lightning. He is often like a stagnant pool.”
“I don’t recognise that,” said Frank.
“No, you probably have never seen it.”
They had passed out of the narrow path from the church-yard during this, and their way lying across the open fields, Lady Sunningdale, as her habit was, annexed Frank as well as Martin.