‘You don’t remember,’ said the Rector sharply, ‘that it takes application to play a game well, as well as to study well, and that Jim never thought it good enough, either for one thing or another.’ Alas! how short the moment of happiness is! ‘Oh, girls,’ said Mrs. Plowden, when lunch was over, and the three ladies were in the drawing-room again, ‘if Mr. Osborne would only take up Jim! He is the only man in the parish who could do it; and now that I hear he plays games and things I feel a little hopeful. For whatever your father may say, I know that Jim is good at all games. We might get up this racquets, whatever it is, and get them to play together. We might ask the General, Florry, what it is. Army men always know everything of that kind. Or, Emmy, you might remember to ask your aunt; and there’s Mr. Swinford; perhaps he plays it too.’ ‘I suppose it is a gentleman’s game,’ said Emmy, with perhaps not so strong an enthusiasm. ‘Do you think I might speak to Mr. Osborne about it?’ said the mother, pondering. When she asked advice of her girls it was in fact a sort of thinking aloud, a putting of the question to her own mind. A thing often seems quite different put out in audible words from what it does when only turned over and over in the recesses of your own heart. ‘I might tell him that Jim was very fond of it, and that hearing he was good I thought I would consult him how we should get it up.’ ‘But Jim never said he was fond of it, mamma.’ ‘Oh, how matter-of-fact you are, Emmy! Jim would be fond of anything that was a game. He would be glad of any break; and to get him surrounded with nice companions like himself, and taking his pleasure with them, wouldn’t that be better for him than Sophocles, or any old Pagan of them all? Your father doesn’t think so, perhaps, but I do; and, if you look at it reasonably, so will you too.’ ‘I would not trust to Mr. Osborne if I were you,’ said Florence. She was standing in the corner beyond the window at the big old-fashioned round table, which had been dismissed from its old-fashioned place in the centre of the room, but was retained in the corner because it was so useful. Florence had her back to her mother and sister, and was very busy cutting out clothes for her girls’ class, which, like Miss Grey’s mothers’ meeting, met weekly for needlework. ‘I would not speak to him about it. He sometimes takes offence when you suggest a thing, and then goes away and does it. I would not say a word if I were you.’ ‘But it never has been suggested to him, Florry! Why, you know I never heard of this even, till to-day. Here is your aunt Emily coming. We can ask her what she thinks. She has been more in the world than any of us, and probably she can tell us what racquets is.’