About this time Mr. Ablethorpe came pretty often to see us. He liked, I think, to explain his views to Constantia Caw, who languished up at him with eyes each the size of a pigeon's egg. He even fetched Mr. De la Poer to help in the task of proving to the two girls that there was only one apostolic succession, and that they—Mr. Ralph Ablethorpe and Cecil De la Poer—had it.
Mr. De la Poer was a tall, slim, lantern-jawed young man, with a dense mass of straight black hair, which gave him the look of a popular actor of the new Shakespearean Society, university extension sort. But for all that he had strong views, Mr. Cecil De la Poer, in matters connected with his profession. Not an ounce of hypocrisy about him any more than the Hayfork. For instance, he confided to Miss Harriet Caw, who up to that moment had listened to him with considerable sympathy, real or assumed, that he was firmly resolved never to marry.
Whereupon the young woman got up in the most sprightly, stage milkmaidish manner, caught her gown on both sides, swept him the approved courtesy and sang—
"'Nobody axed you, sir,' she said, 'sir,' she said,
'sir,' she said;
'Nobody axed you, sir,' she said."
Then she went to her sister, and pretending to weep, took Constantia by the hand, saying, "Come away, Stancy—it is all over. They won't marry us—they have taken a vow not to!"
"I wish," said Constantia, looking severely at her sister, "that you would not be so ridiculous. I was quite interested in what Mr. Ablethorpe was telling me about—about the council of—council of—whatever—it—was!"
Harriet had got hold of a handkerchief by this time, and was sobbing most desolately into it. She had deftly taken it out of Mr. De la Peer's tail pocket, where a bit of it generally showed.
"He says it is against the true faith," she said, pointing out the culprit, who stood in an entirely correct attitude, though entirely conscious that he was looking a fool. His hair fell about his brow in dense masses, and he looked tragic.
"And I never asked him," continued Harriet; "I would scorn such an action. I dare you to say that I did!"
The unhappy Mr. De la Poer was mute, as indeed he might well be, before such treatment of his person and theories.