Algy had a shrewd notion that Mr. Diamond's appreciation of himself was likely to be a just one, and he was a little vexed and discomfited, that his tutor had given him no word of praise behind his back. Mrs. Errington saw that she had made an impression, and began to heighten and embellish her statements accordingly. "But, my dear boy," said she, "how can we expect him to recognise talents like yours--gentlemanly talents, so to speak? The man himself is a mere plodder. Why, he was a sizar at college!" Algy felt himself to be a very generous fellow for continuing to "stand up for old Diamond," as he phrased it. "Well, ma'am, plenty of great men have been poor scholars. Dean Swift was a sizar." "And Dean Swift died in a madhouse! So you see, Algy!" Mrs. Errington plumed herself a good deal upon this retort, and returned to the attack upon Mr. Diamond with fresh vigour; being one of those persons whose mode of warfare is elephantine, and who, never content with merely killing their enemy, must ponderously stamp and mash every semblance of humanity out of him. Algernon did not like all this. His vanity was--at least during this period of his life--a great deal more vulnerable than his mother's. And she, although she doated on him, would say unpleasant things, indignantly repeat mortifying remarks which had been made, and in a hundred ways unconsciously wound the sensitive love of approbation which was one of Algernon's tenderest (not to say weakest) points. It was all very disagreeable. But it was not the worst he had to look forward to. There was one person who would be so cast down, so despairing, at the news of his going away, that--that--it would be quite painful for a fellow to witness such grief. And yet it could not be expected--it could never have been expected--that he should stay in Whitford all his life! He must point that out to Rhoda. Poor Rhoda!