The Parson sat for a moment in silence while John-James shifted his feet anxiously.  Mingled with the swift appreciation of the humour of himself as tutor to the arrogant Vassie was a pang of reproachful conscience.

“What does your mother say?” he temporised; “and Vassie?”

“Mother’s willen, only she did say you was so took up with the lil’un you wouldn’t take no account of Vassie, seeing she’m only a bastard like the rest of us.  But Vassie said if you thought it was the right thing to do by her you’d do it.”

Boase had as little vanity as any man, but it was pleasurably pricked by this.  Also he still reproached himself.

“John-James,” he began almost diffidently, “you mustn’t talk like that about bastards—­as though it made any difference to me.  You know it isn’t because of that I look after Ishmael and treat him differently; it’s because he was left to me as a charge.  I want to make a fine thing of him and for him to make a fine thing of Cloom....  But that includes his overcoming this barrier between him and his family; it won’t be complete till he and Archelaus can meet in friendship as brothers should, without a grudge or a fear.  All this bad blood needs sweetening.”

“I daresay,” said John-James, “but meanwhile Ishmael’ll be growen up further and further from his folk.”

“But you wouldn’t have me not educate him, would you?” urged Boase, speaking as to a fellow-man; “you say yourself it’s too late with Archelaus.  It always was; he hated me from Ishmael’s birth.”

“That’s right enough,” agreed John-James; “it’s only Vassie you can help.  And helpen her will help your plan too, won’t it?  For it’ll make one of his own kind in his family.  And she’s gwain to be ’ansome, she is.”

“You’re quite right, John-James, and I’m obliged to you for the suggestion.  I don’t think I can supply an education much good to a young lady, but we’ll see what can be done.”

“Mother says,” mumbled John-James, “that happen later Vassie could go to what they do call a boarding school to Plymouth church town, seen’ as the money won’t be Ishmael’s yet awhile....  Only she must learn to cipher and make nadlework flowers afore go, or the other maids’ll mock at she.”

“I can teach the ciphering but not the needlework flowers, I fear,” said the Parson, laughing; “my housekeeper will have to be called in over that.  Well, you tell Vassie to be here by nine in the morning and she shall begin her education.  Whether she sticks to it is her own affair.”

“She’ll stick to it,” prophesied John-James.  “She’m terrible proud, is Vassie.”