The relief to Herbert was infinite; but he was by this time too much tired to do anything but murmur his thanks, and wish himself safe back in his bed, and Philip’s strong-armed aid in reaching that haven was not a little appreciated.

Julius looked in with his mother’s entreaty that Philip, and if possible his sister, should come up to eat their Christmas dinner at the Hall; and Herbert, wearily declaring that sleep was all he needed, and that Cranky would be more than sufficient for him, insisted on their accepting the invitation; and Jenny was not sorry, for she did not want a tete-a-tete with Philip so close to her patient’s room, that whatever he chose to hear, he might.

She had quite enough of it in the walk to the Hall.  Phil, with the persistency of a person bent on doing a kind thing, returned to his York plan, viewing it as excellent relaxation for a depressed, over-worked man, and certain it would be a great treat to ‘little Herb.’  He still looked on the tall young man as the small brother to be patronized, and protected, and dragged out of home-petting; so he pooh-poohed all Jenny’s gentler hints as to Herbert’s need of care and desire to return to his work, until she was obliged to say plainly that he had entreated her to beg it might not be argued with him again, as he was resolved against amusement for the present.

Then Phil grew very angry both with Herbert and Jenny.

“Did they suppose he wanted the boy to do anything unclerical?”

“No; but you know it was by nothing positively unclerical that he was led aside before.”

Phil broke out into a tirade against the folly of Jenny’s speech.  In his view, Herbert’s conduct at Wil’sbro’ had confuted the Bishop’s censure, and for his own part, he only wished to amuse the boy, and give him rest, and if he did take him to a ball, or even out with the hounds, he would be on leave, and in another diocese, where the Bishop had nothing to do with him.

Jenny tried to make him understand that dread of the Bishop was the last thing in Herbert’s mind.  It was rather that he did not think it right to dissipate away a serious impression.

That was worse than before.  She was threatened with the most serious displeasure of her father and mother, if she encouraged Herbert in the morbid ascetic notions ascribed to Dr. Easterby.

“It was always the way with the women—­they never knew where to stop.”

“No,” said Jenny, “I did not know there was anywhere to stop in the way of Heaven.”

“As if there were no way to Heaven without making a fool of oneself.”

This answer made Jenny sorry for her own, as needlessly vexatious, and yet she recollected St. Paul’s Christian paradoxes, and felt that poor Herbert might have laid hold of the true theory of the ministry.  At any rate, she was glad that they were at that moment hailed and overtaken by the party from the Rectory, and that Phil pounced at once on Julius, to obtain his sanction to giving Herbert a little diversion at York.