"I put Paul down for the evening," said his father, returning. "I rather hope he'll go to church with his mother in the morning. She'd enjoy having him. You know what mothers are, Derrick."
"Yes, yes, to be sure," said the little man quickly. "I should have thought of it. But I expect we shall see a good deal of you, Mr. Paul."
"Rather," said the young man again. "Are all the folk going strong?"
"Yes. Mr. Vintner is secretary of the Missionary Committee in your place. He's coming on well."
"Vintner!" exclaimed Paul. But he was ashamed of his instinctive thought the next moment. "Splendid," he said.
Mr. Derrick nodded. "He gave a most helpful address on Henry Martyn last week.... Thank you, Mr. Kestern. Are those the books? I'll go through them to-night and let you have them on Sunday. I don't suppose it'll take me long. Good-night. Good-night, Mr. Paul."
The clergyman thanked him and saw him out. "Capital fellow," he said, entering the dining-room. "Wait till you're ordained, Paul, and you'll know what such lay help means to a clergyman. Well, dear boy, and how are you? Really I think you've grown. What do you think, mother?"
"I've been admiring his fancy waistcoat," said Mrs. Kestern. "Where did you get it, Paul?"
(2)
Paul was soon aware that he was in for a delightful vacation. Not many young men in their circle went to the University, and none at all, naturally, from among "the workers." Paul was, therefore, lionised. It was impossible for him not to be aware of it. He had always been a kind of natural leader, but he was now something more. A glamour sat about him. It was possibly Miss Ernest who made him aware of it first.