"Now, no more chatter," said Howard; "you go and get some books,
and we will set to work at once." Jack nodded and fled.

When he came back the keeper was waiting, a friendly old man, who
seemed delighted at the idea of some sport. Jack said, "Look here,
I have arranged it all. Shooting to-day, and you can have father's
gun; he hardly ever uses it, and I have my own. Fishing to-morrow,
and so on alternately. There are heaps of rabbits up the valley--
the place crawls with them."

Howard taught Jack for an hour, as clearly and briskly as he could,
making him take notes. He found him quick and apt, and at the end,
Jack said, "Now if I could only do this every day at Cambridge, I
should soon get on. My word, you do do it well! It makes me shudder
to think of all the practice you must have had."

Howard set Jack down to prepare some further work by himself, and
attacked his own papers; and very soon it was time for lunch.

Mrs. Graves greeted Jack with much affectionateness, and asked what
they had arranged for the afternoon. Howard told her, and added
that he hoped she did not object to shooting.

"No, not at all," said Mrs. Graves, "if YOU can do it
conscientiously--I couldn't! As usual I am hopelessly inconsistent.
I couldn't kill things myself, but as long as I eat meat, I can't
object. It's no good arguing about these things. If one begins to
argue about destroying life, there are such excellent reasons for
not eating anything, or wearing anything, or even crossing the