"Thank you; then I'll speak. You are coming from High Beech, I see."
"True, sir; yes, I am," said John.
"Don't you think it would be wise occasionally to vary the direction? There are more points of the compass than one."
"I have not thought about it, Mr. Rubric," said John.
"I daresay not. I thought as much, Mr. Tincroft. But will you allow me to suggest that we have some delightful scenery in quite the opposite direction. The One Tree Hill, for instance. Why, you can see seven counties from the summit of that hill—on a fine day, at least."
"Dear me! I wasn't aware of that," said John.
"And another thing," continued the parson; "I should say that High Beech is—ahem!—is, in some respects, unhealthy. I am afraid your constant excursions in that direction are not doing you any good."
"Oh!" said John, with a start, for he was rather fidgety about his health. "Do you really think so? It has never struck me in that light. I fancied I was all the better for taking more exercise. I find I can get over the ground a good deal easier than I could a month ago. And I have a better appetite too. So I am rather surprised to hear you speak of High Beech being unhealthy."
"I must speak out," thought Mr. Rubric to himself. "What a nuisance it is to have to do with men who can't understand metaphors." He did not say this, of course, but went on another tack.
"Mr. Tincroft," said he, "when I was at Oxford, and that is forty years ago, I had a young friend in the same college—I should rather say, hall. I am a Pembroke Hall man. Well, we were very close companions, and I believe we had a strong regard for each other. There came a time, however, when our friendship was to be broken in twain. It came about in this wise. We used to take long walks together, and a favourite walk of ours was to the Hinkseys. You know the Hinkseys, Mr. Tincroft?"