"Is that a _young_ lady?" he whispered rather stupidly. The doctor looked at him with unfriendly astonishment. "Naturally!" "I mean--is there another person of that name in the town?--an aunt, perhaps, or--" "No," said Dr. Green, "there isn't." "And here!" Mr. Utterly's pencil moved to another point. "'Richard Everman Lister.' Do you know anything of him?" The doctor jerked his head toward the organ. "That was he." "Did you ever hear of a Basil Everman?" It was impossible to tell whether this jerk of head signified impatience or negation. Utterly pointed again to Richard's name. He did not observe or choose to observe that the doctor objected to this whispered questioning. "Do you know anything about his relatives?" "I know them all." "And there is no Basil Everman?" The doctor turned his shoulder now with an unmistakable intention to say no more. As Utterly slid back to his place, he saw an old catalogue in another pew and leaned forward to secure it. Among the former presidents of the college was Richard Everman, who was also Professor of Greek. Basil--who but a Professor of Greek would give his son such a name? Mr. Utterly glared at Dr. Green. Was this foolish doctor trying to conceal something from him, something which he had every right to know? He had a moment's silly suspicion that the conductor and the hotel-keeper and the brakeman and the doctor might have conspired against him. Putting the old catalogue into his pocket, he gave his attention to the speaker, that same bright-eyed, blond Richard who was beginning his "_Auditores_, _Comites_, _Professores_," in a clear voice and with a smiling face. Utterly smiled back, partly in response and partly at the old-fashioned English pronunciation, antiquated even to him, though he was years older than these children. Between Richard Lister and Eleanor Bent came ten speakers, each addressing a tense and motionless audience, sympathetic with aspiring youth, sympathetic in turn with each attentive parent and sister, and breathing audible sighs with each concluding bow. Of all the boys only Richard was composed. The only girl in the class beside Eleanor, Cora Scott, made no impression upon Utterly except that she was a frail little thing, what color and prettiness she might have overshadowed, blotted out by the black gown in which she was swathed. Of them all, no one failed, but there were slight hesitations and cheeks red with embarrassment. The topics which they discussed might well have excited older heads than theirs. Especially were the theories of Mr. Darwin, penetrating after many years to Walton College, now torn, shredded, cast to the winds.