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However as Virginie brought forward a cashmere dress trimmed with passementerie and jet, she thought fit to interfere. "No, no, not that," she said. "That would be beyond the price. Show her that black challis dress with the little dots. The skirt will be a trifle too long and the waist too large, but it can easily be made to fit her, besides we have nothing else in black."
Meanwhile a child of five all unconscious that his quiet refusal to participate in the making and breaking of reputations was temporarily a matter of considerable annoyance to a Fellow of the Royal Society ran through a well-kept index of the books in the library of Challis Court an index written clearly on cards that occupied a great nest of accessible drawers; two cards with a full description to each book, alphabetically arranged, one card under the title of the work and one under the author's name.
He began them as he sat in the Stotts' cottage. At first he did not address the boy directly. "I hear your son has been having a religious controversy with Mr. Crashaw," was his introduction to the object of his visit. "Indeed, sir!" Plainly this was not news to Mrs. Stott. "Your son told you?" suggested Challis. "Oh! no, sir, 'e never told me," replied Mrs. Stott, "'twas Mr. Crashaw.
"Does he go to school?" "No. They let 'im off. Leastways Mr. Challis did. They say the Reverend Crashaw, down at Stoke, was fair put out about it." I thought that Bates emphasised the "on dit" nature of his information rather markedly. "What do you think of him?" I asked. "Me?" said Bates. "I don't worry my 'ead about him. I've got too much to do."
Only when we endeavour to grapple with that indeterminable mystery of consciousness can we conceive, however dimly, some idea of a pure abstraction uninfluenced by and independent of, those twin bases of our means of thought. Here it is that Challis has paused.
"I want to have the child certified as an idiot, and sent to an asylum." "On what grounds?" "He is undoubtedly lacking mentally," said Crashaw, "and his influence is, or may be, malignant." "Explain," suggested Challis. For a few seconds Crashaw paused, intent on the pattern of the carpet, and worked his hands slowly.
"Very well, as you think best," was Challis's last word. As Challis walked down to the gate, where his motor was waiting for him, Mr. Forman trotted up from behind and ranged himself alongside. "More rain wanted yet for the roots, sir," he said. "September was a grand month for 'arvest, but we want rain badly now." "Quite, quite," murmured Challis, politely. He shook hands with Mr.
"Cannot you stand in loco parentis?" asked the Wonder suddenly, in his still, thin voice. "You mean," said Challis, startled by this outburst, "that I am in a sense providing you with an education? Quite true; but there is Crashaw to deal with." "Inform him," said the Wonder. Challis sighed. "I have," he said, "but he can't understand."
"No!" said Challis, after a perceptible interval, "that you will not learn from any books in my possession, but you will find grounds for speculation." "Grounds for speculation?" questioned the Wonder. He repeated the words quite clearly. "Material matter from which you can er formulate theories of your own," explained Challis. The Wonder shook his head.
Perfect knowledge implies the peace of death, implies the state of being one our pleasures are derived from action, from differences, from heterogeneity. "Oh! pity the child," said Challis, "for whom there could be no mystery. Is not mystery the first and greatest joy of life? Beyond the gate there is unexplored mystery for us in our childhood.
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