'What does she say about me? asked Paul.
'She says: "By the way, dear boy, I must tell you that the spelling in your last letters has been just too shattering for words. You know how terribly anxious I am for you to get on and go to Oxford, and everything, and I have been thinking, don't you think it might be a good thing if we were to have a tutor next holidays? Would you think it too boring? Some one young who would fit in. I thought, would that good‑looking young master you said you liked care to come? How much ought I to pay him? I never know these things. I don't mean the drunk one, tho' he was sweet too." I think that must be you, don't you? said Beste‑Chetwynde; 'it can hardly be Captain Grimes.
'Well, I must think that over, said Paul. 'It sounds rather a good idea.
'Well, yes, said Beste‑Chetwynde doubtfully, 'it might be all right, only there mustn't be too much of the schoolmaster about it. That man Prendergast beat me the other evening.
'And there'll be no organ lessons, either, said Paul.
Grimes did not receive the news as enthusiastically as Paul had hoped; he was sitting over the Common Room fire despondently biting his nails.
'Good, old boy! That's splendid, he said abstractedly. 'I'm glad; I am really.
'Well, you don't sound exactly gay.
'No, I'm not. Fact is, I'm in the soup again.
'Badly?