Mrs. Agar was not clever enough to see that she had made a mistake. The mention of Sister Cecilia's name acted on the Rector like a mental douche. He was just beginning to give way to expansiveness--probably under the suave influence of the brown sherry--and the name of Sister Cecilia pulled him together with a jerk. The jerk extended to his features; but Mrs. Agar was one of those cunning women whom no man need fear. She was so cunning that she deceived herself into seeing that which she wished to see, and nothing else. “All that,” said the Rector gravely, “can be discussed when Arthur has persuaded Dora to say Yes.” He was in the position of an unfortunate person who, having come into controversy with the police, is warned that every word he says may be used in evidence against him. He had been reminded that every detail of the present conversation would be repeated to Sister Cecilia, with embellishments or subtractions as might please the narrator's fancy or suit her purpose. “A dangerous woman” he called Sister Cecilia in his most gloomy voice, and a parson must perforce fear dangerous women. That is one of the trials of the ministry. Mrs. Agar laughed in a forced manner. “Of course,” she said--she had a habit of beginning her remarks with these two words--“of course, we need not think of such questions yet. I am sure all _I_ want is the happiness of the dear children.” “Umph!” ejaculated Mr. Glynde, who was not always a model of politeness. “That, I am sure,” continued Mrs. Agar, with a dabbing pocket-handkerchief, “is the dearest wish of us all.” “When does the boy come home?” inquired the Rector. “Oh, in a week. I am so longing for him to come. He has to go to town to get some clothes, which will delay his return by one night.” “Is he doing any good this term?” Mrs. Agar looked slightly hurt. “Well, he always works very hard, I am only afraid that he should overdo it. You know, I suppose, that he did not get through his examination this term. Of course it is no good _my_ saying anything, but I am quite convinced that they are not dealing fairly by him. I have seen some of those examination papers, and some of the questions are simply spiteful. They do it on purpose, I know. And Sister Cecilia tells me that that _does_ happen sometimes. For some reason or other--because they have been snubbed, or something like that--the masters, the examiners, or whatever they are called, make a dead set at some men, and simply keep them back. They don't give them the marks that they ought to have. Why should Arthur always fail? Of course the thing is unfair.”