He rubbed his hands and looked round the table for appreciation of this mild jest, but only his curate was civil enough to smile.
“He’s a mighty clever young man, and I think he’ll be very useful to me,” he added.
“I notice that your actions are always governed by unselfish motives,” murmured Lady Sophia.
“God helps those who help themselves. Mr. Railing is a Christian Socialist and writes for the Radical papers. I think he has a future, and I feel it my duty to give him some encouragement.” His voice assumed those rolling, grandiloquent tones which rang so effectively in St. Gregory’s Church. “Now-a-days, when Socialism is rapidly becoming a power in the land, when it is spreading branches into every stratum of society, it behoves us to rally it to the Church. Christianity is Socialism.”
Lady Sophia gave a deprecating smile: “My dear Theodore, remember that only your family is present.”
But it was not easy to stem the flood of Canon Spratte’s eloquence. He threw back his handsome head and looked at the full-length portrait of his father, in robes of office, which adorned the wall.
“I pride myself above all things upon being abreast of the times. Every movement that savours of advance will find in me an enthusiastic supporter. My father, the late Lord Chancellor, was one of the first to perceive the coming strength of the people. And I am proud to know that my family has always identified itself with the future. Advance,” again the thrilling voice rang out. “Advance has always been our watchword, advance and progress.”
Lord Spratte gave a low chuckle, for his brother was delivered into his hand.
“You speak as if we’d come over with the Conquest, Theodore.”
Canon Spratte turned to him coolly.