"Practising?"
"Well, experimenting, getting his hand in, so to speak. The member acts under instructions only, but the probationer just does what he thinks best."
"There is a man on my stair," said Andrew, after a moment's consideration, "who asks his friends in every Friday night, and recites to them with his door open. I think I should like to begin with him."
"As a society we do not recognise these private cases. The public gain is so infinitesimal. We had one probationer who constructed a very ingenious water-butt for boys. Another had a scheme for clearing the streets of the people who get in the way. He got into trouble about some perambulators. Let me see your hands."
They stopped at a lamp-post.
"They are large, which is an advantage," said the president, fingering Andrew's palms; "but are they supple?"
Andrew had thought very little about it, and he did not quite comprehend.
"The hands," explained the president, "are perhaps the best natural weapon; but, of course, there are different ways of doing it."
The young Scotchman's brain, however, could not keep pace with his companion's words, and the president looked about him for an illustration.
They stopped at Gower Street station and glanced at the people coming out.