“But you can’t help it, Archie,” said his sister; “’cause if I want him to stand, he will stand, don’t you see?”
“He’s an unprincipled person,” said the little parson. “And I marvel that Grace’s moral nature can countenance him.”
“I’ll have a bob each way on ‘moral nature,’ Toddles,” said Grace.
“His umpirin’s too thick to talk about,” said T. S. M. “Why, at Harrow——”
“Yes, at Harrow,” said Grace. This prompt seizure of her opportunity was of no avail, however. Public opinion was now entirely with T. S. M. Poor Grace stood alone. She consoled herself with a massive piece of toast, with butter and marmalade to match.
“Seeing that Dimsdale’s happiness is at stake,” said Toddles, with an air of patronage and protection that was perfectly insufferable, “we shall do well to stick by him in this, and give him our undivided support. We’ll admit that he’s not much chance under the most favourable conditions; but with Biffin as umpire he’s as good as plucked before he goes on the field. Besides, we want this to be a sporting event. Fair play all round, you know, and no favour, and may the best man win.”
“Toddles,” said the keen Grace, pausing an instant in her well-organized assault on the toast and marmalade, “you’re mixed. Sort yourself out a bit. Toddles, you’re talking rot.”
“Oh, but, my dear Grace,” said I, “it’s not rot for me, I can assure you. It’s a matter for earnest consideration.”
It was really enjoyable to feel such a weight of public opinion behind one. It was evidently a crisis that had been coming slowly to a head for years. Here was the opportunity of the long-suffering to test the legality of Grace’s uncompromising attitude on the Biffin question. In the somewhat technical language of the barrister, they were simply making a test case of it, in order to get a judicial pronouncement as to whether in future Grace was to be licensed to do as she liked.
“O’ course I shall, James,” said Grace; “I always do, don’t I?”