"In a weird sort of way, a hobby is a man's substitute for sport, I
believe," said Estelle's father. "Many have no feeling for sport; it's
left out of them and they seem to be able to live comfortably without
it. Instead they develop an instinct for something else. Generally it's
deadly from the sportsman's point of view; but it seems to take the
place of sport to the sportless. How old ruins, or church bells, can
supersede a vital, living thing, like the sport of a nation, of course
you and I can't explain; but so it is with some minds."

"It depends how they were brought up," suggested Raymond.

"No--take you; you weren't brought up to sport. But your own natural,
good instinct took you to it. Same with me. The moment I saw a ball, I'm
told that I shrieked till they gave it to me--at the age of one that
was. And from that time forward they had no trouble with me. A ball
always calmed me. Why? Because a ball, you may say, is the emblem of
England's greatness. I was thinking over it not long ago. There is not a
single game of the first importance that does not depend on a ball. If
one had brains, one could write a book on the inner meaning of that
fact. I believe that the ball has a lot to do with the greatness of the
Empire."

"A jolly good idea. I'll try it on Uncle Ernest," promised Raymond.

He was cheerful and depressed in turn. His company made him happy and
the thought that he would come to live at North Hill House also pleased
him well; but from time to time the drastic change in his life swept his
thoughts like a cloud. The picture of regular work--unloved work that
would enable him to live--struck distastefully upon his mind.