“Mr. Farrant is no doubt a reformed character now,” he admitted. “But he is far from orthodox; far from orthodox! At one time I am told that he was one of the wildest young fellows in the neighborhood, no decent person would speak to him, and though no doubt he means well, yet I could never have confidence in such a man.”
“I have heard a good deal about him from my friends the Osmonds,” said Erica, stimulated as usual to side with the abused. “Mr. Osmond thinks him the finest character he ever knew.”
“Is that the clergyman you told me of?” interposed Mrs. Fane-Smith, anxious to turn the conversation.
But her husband threw in a question, too.
“What, Charles Osmond, do you mean the author of 'Essays on Modern Christianity?”
“Yes,” replied Erica.
“I don't know that he is much more orthodox than Mr. Farrant,” said Mr. Fane-Smith; “I consider that he has Noetian tendencies.”
Erica's color rose and her eyes flashed.
“I do not know whether he is what is called orthodox or not,” she said; “but I do know that he is the most Christ-like man I ever met.”
Mr. Fane-Smith looked uncomfortable. He would name any number of heresies and heretics, but, except at grace, it was against his sense of etiquette to speak the name of Christ at table.. Even Rose looked surprised, and Mrs. Fane-Smith colored, and at once made the move to go.