Paul thrust "The Literary Lounge," the College Feast, the Theatre, Donaldson, Strether and Manning, into the back of his mind, and told her.
"And do you find the lectures hard?" she queried.
Paul laughed gaily. What a topsy-turvy notion of Cambridge his mother, after all, must have!
His father's key grated in the door and Paul ran out into the hall. The clergyman came in, followed by Mr. Derrick. "Ah, Paul," he said, "it is good to see you home again. Come in, Mr. Derrick. Paul's just back. I'll get you the books at once."
He entered the study, and Mr. Derrick held out his hand. Paul took in the dapper little man, from his spotless tall linen collar to his neat black boots. "How are you?" he said genially. "How goes things?"
"How do you do, Mr. Paul," said Mr. Derrick nervously. "We are all very well, thank you. Have you had a good time at college? How short the terms are! You seem scarcely to have gone away at all."
"Eh?" queried Paul, momentarily astonished. Then he recollected. "Yes," he confessed, "I suppose they do seem short. We read more in the vacs. than in the terms, you know."
"I hope you will still be able to lend us a hand, however," said his visitor.
"Rather," said Paul. "Who's taking the children on Sunday?"
"I am, unless you'd rather."