“That is news to me.”

“On terra firma, I mean.”

At this opening of the case Talboys versus Newton, Arthur shrugged his shoulders to Lucy and David, and went swiftly out as from the presence of an idiot.  It was abominably rude.  But, besides being ill-natured and a little shallow, Mr. Talboys was drawling out his words, and Arthur was sixteen—­candid epoch, at which affectation in man or woman is intolerable to us; we get a little hardened to it long before sixty.  Mr. Talboys bit his lip at this boyish impertinence, but he was too proud a man to notice it otherwise than by quietly incorporating the offender into his satire.  “But the enigma is why you read them with a stripling, of whose breeding we have just had a specimen—­mathematics with a hob-ba-de-hoy? Grand Dieu! Do pray tell us, Mr. Dodd, why you come to Font Abbey every day; is it really to teach Master Orson mathematics and manners?”

David did not sink into the earth as he was intended to.

“I come to teach him algebra and geometry, what little I know.”

“But your motive, Mr. Dodd?”

David looked puzzled, Lucy uneasy at seeing her guest badgered.

“Ask Miss Fountain why she thinks I do my best for Arthur,” said David, lowering his eyes.

Talboys colored and looked at Fountain.

“I think it must be out of pure goodness,” said Lucy, sweetly.

Mr. Talboys ignored her calmly.  “Pray enlighten us, Mr. Dodd.  Now what is the real reason you walk a mile every day to do mathematics with that interesting and well-behaved juvenile?”

“You are very curious, sir,” said David, grimly, his ire rising unseen.

“I am—­on this point.”

“Well, since you must be told what most men could see without help, it is—­because he is an orphan; and because an orphan finds a brother in every man that is worth the shoe-leather he stands in.  Can ye read the riddle now, ye lubber?” and David started up haughtily, and, with contempt and wrath on his face, marched through the open window and joined his little friend on the lawn, leaving Fountain red with anger and Talboys white.

The next thing was, Lucy rose and went quietly out of the room by the door.

“It is the last time he shall set his foot within my door.  Provoking cub!”

“You are convinced at last that he is a dangerous rival?”

“A rival?  Nonsense and stuff!!”

“Then why was she so agitated?  She went out with tears in her eyes:  I saw them.”

“The poor girl was frightened, no doubt.  We don’t have fracases at Font Abbey.  On this one spot of earth comfort reigns, and balmy peace, and shall reign unruffled while I live.  The passions are not admitted here, sir.  Gracious Heaven forbid!  I’d as soon see a bonfire in the middle of my dining-room as Jealousy & Co.”

“In that case you had better exclude the cause.”

“The cause is your imagination, my good friend; but I will give it no handle.  I will exclude David Dodd until she has accepted you in form.”