Part 2 (2/2)

”May I ask the nature of these circ.u.mstances?” I asked.

”We endeavour to hold the balance equally between our clients, and to be perfectly frank with all of them. If I knew of objections to you I should certainly communicate them to Dr. McCarthy, and so I have no hesitation in doing as much for you. I find,” he continued, glancing over the pages of his ledger, ”that within the last twelve months we have supplied no fewer than seven Latin masters to Willow Lea House Academy, four of them having left so abruptly as to forfeit their month's salary, and none of them having stayed more than eight weeks.”

”And the other masters? Have they stayed?”

”There is only one other residential master, and he appears to be unchanged. You can understand, Mr. Weld,” continued the agent, closing both the ledger and the interview, ”that such rapid changes are not desirable from a master's point of view, whatever may be said for them by an agent working on commission. I have no idea why these gentlemen have resigned their situations so early. I can only give you the facts, and advise you to see Dr. McCarthy at once and to form your own conclusions.”

Great is the power of the man who has nothing to lose, and it was therefore with perfect serenity, but with a good deal of curiosity, that I rang early that afternoon the heavy wrought-iron bell of the Willow Lea House Academy. The building was a ma.s.sive pile, square and ugly, standing in its own extensive grounds, with a broad carriage-sweep curving up to it from the road. It stood high, and commanded a view on the one side of the grey roofs and bristling spires of Northern London, and on the other of the well-wooded and beautiful country which fringes the great city. The door was opened by a boy in b.u.t.tons, and I was shown into a well-appointed study, where the princ.i.p.al of the academy presently joined me.

The warnings and insinuations of the agent had prepared me to meet a choleric and overbearing person--one whose manner was an insupportable provocation to those who worked under him. Anything further from the reality cannot be imagined. He was a frail, gentle creature, clean-shaven and round-shouldered, with a bearing which was so courteous that it became almost deprecating. His bushy hair was thickly shot with grey, and his age I should imagine to verge upon sixty. His voice was low and suave, and he walked with a certain mincing delicacy of manner.

His whole appearance was that of a kindly scholar, who was more at home among his books than in the practical affairs of the world.

”I am sure that we shall be very happy to have your a.s.sistance, Mr.

Weld,” said he, after a few professional questions. ”Mr. Percival Manners left me yesterday, and I should be glad if you could take over his duties to-morrow.”

”May I ask if that is Mr. Percival Manners of Selwyn?” I asked.

”Precisely. Did you know him?”

”Yes; he is a friend of mine.”

”An excellent teacher, but a little hasty in his disposition. It was his only fault. Now, in your case, Mr. Weld, is your own temper under good control? Supposing for argument's sake that I were to so far forget myself as to be rude to you or to speak roughly or to jar your feelings in any way, could you rely upon yourself to control your emotions?”

I smiled at the idea of this courteous, little, mincing creature ruffling my nerves.

”I think that I could answer for it, sir,” said I.

”Quarrels are very painful to me,” said he. ”I wish every one to live in harmony under my roof. I will not deny Mr. Percival Manners had provocation, but I wish to find a man who can raise himself above provocation, and sacrifice his own feelings for the sake of peace and concord.”

”I will do my best, sir.”

”You cannot say more, Mr. Weld. In that case I shall expect you to-night, if you can get your things ready so soon.”

I not only succeeded in getting my things ready, but I found time to call at the Benedict Club in Piccadilly, where I knew that I should find Manners if he were still in town. There he was sure enough in the smoking-room, and I questioned him, over a cigarette, as to his reasons for throwing up his recent situation.

”You don't tell me that you are going to Dr. Phelps McCarthy's Academy?”

he cried, staring at me in surprise. ”My dear chap, it's no use. You can't possibly remain there.”

”But I saw him, and he seemed the most courtly, inoffensive fellow. I never met a man with more gentle manners.”

”He! oh, he's all right. There's no vice in him. Have you seen Theophilus St. James?”

”I have never heard the name. Who is he?”

”Your colleague. The other master.”

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