"With limitations that would practically make it useless," said Mr. Curzon. "I am prepared to make any sacrifice rather than surrender the religious training of the children God has given to my care. It will be a hard matter, with you against me, but I must stick fast by my principle."
"In a few more years there won't be a voluntary school left in the country," said Paul.
"Mine shall be one of the last to die," replied Mr. Curzon.
"You are fully persuaded that you are carrying out the wishes of your people."
"I am sure that, as far as I know it, I shall be doing my duty by them—and that must come first; but they shall have an opportunity of expressing their opinion. I am going to call a meeting about the enlarging of the school, and I shall try and persuade every one to attend it."
"Including myself?" inquired Paul, with a rather sceptical smile.
"I shall wish you, of course, to be there."
"But I can only be there in opposition to your views," Paul said.
"A clergyman gets used to opposition," replied Mr. Curzon, quietly; "but if the school is to be continued under the management of myself and my churchwardens, it shall be no hole-and-corner business: it shall be with the consent and confidence of the majority of my people."
Paul rose to go; and there was rather a troubled look on his face as he took Mr. Curzon's out-stretched hand. It was such a kindly, friendly grip.