"I'm sure I don't know why, but just lately he's begun to make
inquiries about Len, and to ask when I meant to send him to school.
Of course I told him that Len was doing very well indeed, and that I
didn't see the slightest necessity for making a change at all events
just yet. Well, yesterday he came, and said he wanted to see the
boy. Len was in bed--he's in bed still, though his cold's much
better and Mr. Wrybolt would go up to his room, and talk to him.
When he came down again, you know I'm going to tell you the whole
truth, and of course you won't mind it--he began talking in a very
nasty way--he _has_ a nasty way when he likes. 'Look here, Mrs.
Woolstan,' he said, 'Leonard doesn't seem to me to be doing well at
all. I asked him one or two questions in simple arithmetic, and he
couldn't answer.' 'Well,' I said, 'for one thing Len isn't well, and
it isn't the right time to examine a boy; and then arithmetic isn't
his subject; he hasn't that kind of mind.' But he wouldn't listen,
and the next thing he said was still nastier. 'Do you know,' he
said, 'that the boy is being taught _atheism_?'--Well, what could
I answer? I got rather angry, and said that Len's religious teaching
was my own affair, and I couldn't see what _he_ had to do with it;
and besides, that Len _wasn't_ being taught atheism, but that people
who were not in the habit of thinking Philosophically couldn't be
expected to understand such things. I think that was rather good,
wasn't it? Didn't I put it rather well?"

Iris panted in expectation of approval. But merely a nod was
vouchsafed to her.

"Go on," said Dyce, drily.

"You're not vexed, I hope? I'm going to be quite frank, you know,