When the two Miss Allabys came, as they sometimes did, to stay with Christina, they said the life led by their sister and brother-in-law was an idyll.  Happy indeed was Christina in her choice, for that she had had a choice was a fiction which soon took root among them—­and happy Theobald in his Christina.  Somehow or other Christina was always a little shy of cards when her sisters were staying with her, though at other times she enjoyed a game of cribbage or a rubber of whist heartily enough, but her sisters knew they would never be asked to Battersby again if they were to refer to that little matter, and on the whole it was worth their while to be asked to Battersby.  If Theobald’s temper was rather irritable he did not vent it upon them.

By nature reserved, if he could have found someone to cook his dinner for him, he would rather have lived in a desert island than not.  In his heart of hearts he held with Pope that “the greatest nuisance to mankind is man” or words to that effect—­only that women, with the exception perhaps of Christina, were worse.  Yet for all this when visitors called he put a better face on it than anyone who was behind the scenes would have expected.

He was quick too at introducing the names of any literary celebrities whom he had met at his father’s house, and soon established an all-round reputation which satisfied even Christina herself.

Who so integer vitae scelerisque purus, it was asked, as Mr Pontifex of Battersby?  Who so fit to be consulted if any difficulty about parish management should arise?  Who such a happy mixture of the sincere uninquiring Christian and of the man of the world?  For so people actually called him.  They said he was such an admirable man of business.  Certainly if he had said he would pay a sum of money at a certain time, the money would be forthcoming on the appointed day, and this is saying a good deal for any man.  His constitutional timidity rendered him incapable of an attempt to overreach when there was the remotest chance of opposition or publicity, and his correct bearing and somewhat stern expression were a great protection to him against being overreached.  He never talked of money, and invariably changed the subject whenever money was introduced.  His expression of unutterable horror at all kinds of meanness was a sufficient guarantee that he was not mean himself.  Besides he had no business transactions save of the most ordinary butcher’s book and baker’s book description.  His tastes—­if he had any—­were, as we have seen, simple; he had 900 pounds a year and a house; the neighbourhood was cheap, and for some time he had no children to be a drag upon him.  Who was not to be envied, and if envied why then respected, if Theobald was not enviable?