"I had quite lost sight of you," responded Driscoll.
There followed an awkward silence, which was abridged by Mrs. Ryder's pleasant voice.
"I like to watch the meeting of old friends," she said; "especially when I believed them strangers. Were you at college together?"
"Yes," answered Driscoll, his assurance returning. "At college—well, let me see—not far from twenty years ago. Bless me! I am a middle-aged man. What a discovery!"
"You were in the Senior class," observed Father Algarcife, almost mechanically, and with little show of interest. "You were the pride of the faculty, I believe."
"I believe I was; and, like pride proverbial, I ended in a fall. Well, there have been many changes."
"A great many."
"And not the least surprising one is to find you in the fold. You were a lamb astray in my time. Indeed, I remember flattering myself in the fulness of my egoism that I had opened other channels for you. But a reaction came, I suppose."
"Yes," said Father Algarcife, slowly, "a reaction came."
"And my nourishing of the embryonic sceptic went for naught."