“At the Little Sisters' dinner. I was an unintentional eavesdropper, and I heard you say to the chaplain, as I was passing with some dish or something, these words—'for my own diocese: next year.' Let me congratulate you, Roy, on your choice. I have always thought ever since I first knew you that you were worthy of that high calling.”
“You do surprise me, indeed,” said Roy, “but your knowledge does not make my story the easier to tell.”
Roy Henning then told Ambrose of his desire to enter the seminary, of his broaching the subject to his father during the last vacation, and of the strange test to which his father had thought fit to subject him.
“Now, Ambrose,” he said, when he had finished his narration, “you may understand my conduct in refusing to play ball this year, on account of which so many of the boys seemed so disappointed. I have met with so many annoyances since last September
that more than once before this loss of yesterday I had all but determined to leave old St. Cuthbert's, and be quit of it all. I would have done so if it had not been for you and Jack and Tom.”
“I am sincerely glad you did not.”
“Well, I do not know whether I am. But let me go back to my subject. You see, that with my father's present peculiar view of things, it is by no means certain that he will make good this loss, and if he refuses I shall be in a bad pickle.”
“Oh, Roy,” said Bracebridge, with a vehemence that was almost passion, “let me do it. Let me do it for you. You know my father. You know that he has every confidence in me; he is not a crank, and——”
“Stop, Ambrose,” said Roy, “I can not allow you, even by implication, to speak disrespectfully of my father. That I do not understand his motives is true. That it is mighty hard on me is equally true, but he is my father.”
“There,” said the other in dismay. “I am always putting my foot into it. Forgive me. I didn't mean anything; indeed I did not. Oh! Roy, you know what I mean. Let me help you out of this. It's as easy as A-B-C, you know. No one need know. Pshaw! one would be a poor friend, if, when quite able, he should hang back.”