The hours were not long, and it was understood that his theoretical studies should continue in the evening.  Godwin’s home was a very small house in a monotonous little street; a garret served as bedroom for the two boys, also as the elder one’s laboratory.  Servant Mrs. Peak had none.  She managed everything herself, as in the old Greenwich days, leaving Charlotte free to work at her embroidery.  Godwin took turns with Oliver at blacking the shoes.

As a matter of course the boys accompanied their mother each Sunday morning to the parish church, and this ceremony was becoming an insufferable tax on Godwin’s patience.  It was not only that he hated the name of religion, and scorned with much fierceness all who came in sympathetic contact therewith; the loss of time seemed to him an oppressive injury, especially now that he began to suffer from restricted leisure.  He would not refuse to obey his mother’s wish, but the sullenness of his Sabbatic demeanour made the whole family uncomfortable.  As often as possible he feigned illness.  He tried the effect of dolorous sighs and groans; but Mrs. Peak could not dream of conceding a point which would have seemed to her the condonation of deadly sin.  ‘When I am a man!’ muttered Godwin.  ’Ah! when I am a man!’

A year had gone by, and the routine to which he was bound began to have a servile flavour.  His mind chafed at subjugation to commercial interests.  Sick of ‘sheep and cattle dressings’, he grew tired of chemistry altogether, and presently of physical science in general.  His evenings were given to poetry and history; he took up the classical schoolbooks again, and found a charm in Latin syntax hitherto unperceived.  It was plain to him now how he had been wronged by the necessity of leaving school when his education had but just begun.

Discontent becoming ripe for utterance, he unbosomed himself to Mr Gunnery.  It happened that the old man had just returned from a visit to Kingsmill, where he had spent a week in the museum, then newly enriched with geologic specimens.  After listening in silence to the boy’s complaints, and pondering for a long time, he began to talk of Whitelaw College.

‘Does it cost much to study there?’ Godwin asked, gloomily.

‘No great sum, I think.  There are scholarships to be had.’

Mr. Gunnery threw out the suggestion carelessly.  Knowing the hazards of life, he could not quite justify himself in encouraging Godwin’s restiveness.

‘Scholarships?  For free study?’

’Yes; but that wouldn’t mean free living, you know.  Students don’t live at the College.’

‘How do you go in for a scholarship?’

The old man replied, meditatively, ’If you were to pass the
Cambridge Local Examination, and to get the first place in the
Kingsmill district, you would have three years of free study at
Whitelaw.’

‘Three years?’ shouted Godwin, springing up from his chair.