about young Sam. "Your father thinks he ought to get away from Old
Chester; he's worried because of Mrs. Richie."

"You know my sentiments, sir, in regard to my son's idiocy."

"Oh, come, come! Falling in love is a harmless amusement," said Dr.
Lavendar; "but your father does take it a good deal to heart. He wants
to get him out of town. However, to send him away without letting him
know why, is difficult; and the last thing would be to let him think
we take his love-making seriously! Therefore your father thinks some
kind of excuse has to be made."

Here Dr. Lavendar became elaborately casual; he had decided that he
must prepare his senior warden for a possible reference to a dangerous
topic. "He mustn't be taken unawares," Dr. Lavendar had told himself.
But he quailed, now that the moment of preparation had come. "Your
father thinks the excuse might be the finding a publisher for some
poetry that Sam has written."

Samuel Wright's large pallid face suddenly twitched; his dull eyes
blazed straight at Dr. Lavendar; "Finding a publisher--for poetry! Dr.
Lavendar, rather than have my son encouraged in making what you call
'poetry,' I'd let him _board_ at Mrs. Richie's!"

"Well," said Dr. Lavendar, easily, "never mind about his poetry; your
father has an idea that life in a small place with only your own
interests, is narrowing; and I guess he's right to some extent. Anyway
this project of a journey isn't a bad one. Sam has never been further
from his mother's apron-string in his life, than Mercer."