We were not much troubled by sociabilities.  The place was rather isolated, and Father Payne had the reputation of being something of an eccentric.  Moreover, the big neighbouring domain, Whitbury Park, blocked all access to north and west.  The owner was an old and invalid peer, who lived a very secluded life and entertained no one.  To the south there was nothing for miles but farms and hamlets, while the only near neighbour in the east was a hunting squire, who thought Father Payne kept a sort of boarding-house, and ignored him entirely.  The result was that callers were absolutely unknown, and the wildest form of dissipation was that Pollard and Rose occasionally played lawn-tennis at neighbouring vicarages.

We were not often all there together, because Father Payne’s scheme of travel was strictly adhered to.  He considered it a very integral part of our life.  I never quite knew what his plan was; but he would send a man off, generally alone, with a solid sum for travelling expenses.  Thus Lestrange was sent for a month to Berlin when Joachim held court there, or to Dresden and Munich.  I remember Pollard and Vincent being packed off to Switzerland together to climb mountains, with stern injunctions to be sociable.  Rose went to Spain, to Paris, to St. Petersburg.  Kaye went more than once to Italy; but we often went to different parts of England, and then we were generally allowed to go together; but Father Payne’s theory was that we should travel alone, learn to pick up friends, and to fend for ourselves.  He had acquaintances in several parts of the Continent, and we were generally provided with a letter of introduction to some one.  We had a fortnight in June and a fortnight at Christmas to go home—­so that we were always away for three months in the year, while Father Payne was apt to send us off for a week at a time, if he thought we needed a change.  Barthrop, I think, made his own plans, and it was all reasonable enough, as Father Payne would always listen to objections.  Some of us paid for ourselves on those tours, but he was always willing to supplement it generously.

It used to be a puzzle to me how Father Payne had the command of so much money; his estate was not large; but in the first place he spent very little on himself, and our life was extremely simple.  Moreover, I became aware that some of his former pupils and friends used to send him money at times for this express purpose.

The staff consisted of the old butler, whose wife was cook.  There were three other maid-servants; the gardener was also coachman.  The house was certainly clean and well-kept; we looked after ourselves to a great extent; but there was never any apparent lack of money, though, on the other hand, there was every sign of careful economy.  Father Payne never talked about money.  “It’s an interesting thing, money,” I have heard him say, “and it’s curious to see how people handle it—­but we must not do it too much honour, and it isn’t a thing that can be spoken of in general conversation.”