"The days of the Stoics are past. You have a marvellous predilection for that lad, Parson Trant. Now, I shall just send the steward down to the village, this evening, and have him up here, not for a trial, but just for a private examination, and he shall have fair play. But going to other subjects, old friend,—what think you of young Master Lanyan?"
"Master Lanyan—um—a bright young man—bright beyond his years, I think. He will certainly make his mark in life if he keeps to right principles."
"Ah, exactly so," said the squire, rubbing his hands in the first satisfaction he had had for the whole morning. "I wanted to get your opinion and am glad you think so highly of him."
His companion shook his head.
"As to thinking highly of him—I don't know. He has a strong, subtile mind,—culture,—and a determined will, but he plays cards and——"
"Pooh! Pooh! Pish! Physician, heal thyself; you know that you and I engage in a social game at times."
"But we don't gamble."
"Only a few wild oats. That is natural to a high-spirited lad. He has culture, a strong head—a genuine gentleman," stoutly maintained the squire.
"Ah, but those things in my estimation are not the true requisites of a gentleman. I consider the foundation principles of a man's life."
"Yes, but the English gentry are supposed to be dominated by the highest principles," said the squire, earnestly.