Mr. Russell helped himself to the sugar, and then he stirred his tea round and round with the spoon, till it got to look like a whirlpool with a hole in the middle. Presently he sipped it again, and told me it was "perfect," and after that he went on with what he was saying. "Yes, Mary is a most excellent creature—too good for common life. One can't help admiring, of course—but still—" and he shook his head, as much as to say that it wouldn't do, wouldn't do at all! "Perhaps it would be better if everybody was the same," I said, thinking how father would speak and how mother would look in my place. I felt that there was something out of joint in what he was saying; and yet I did not want to feel anything that was not in his favour. "The world would be at a standstill," says he. "People must have common sense if they are to get on in life." I didn't know what he meant then; I know better now. He meant that we had to serve Mammon as well as God; and that, in matters of business, Mammon must come first, God second. He would not have put it so plain as that, of course, but it came to nothing less. Yes, and it always does end in that, when we try to do what our Lord said couldn't be done—when we try to serve Mammon and God too. Mr. Russell's "Mammon" was "getting on in life," and making money. He wouldn't put the service of God before that, and his sister would. That was why he called her "too good" for common life. But perhaps I ought not to say all this now. Perhaps I ought to leave it to be found out later. Mr. Russell all at once turned the talk to something different. "By-the-bye," said he, "I'm told the Earl gave you his own watch and chain." "Yes," I said, and I got rather red. "I don't wonder your father is proud." "Was he proud about it?" I said. "Then he didn't show what he felt." "Might I," Mr. Russell went on— "might I see the watch?" I didn't see how to refuse or why I need: so I ran upstairs and brought down the gold watch and chain, laying them on the table in front of Mr. Russell. He took them up and examined both closely, letting his tea get cold, he was so interested. "You'll have to mind you keep them in a safe place," he said after a while. "The Earl knows how to do things in a princely style. You're in luck, I can tell you. It's a thirty-guinea watch if it's worth a penny, and the chain half as much again!" I was rather startled to hear this. "First-rate article," says Mr. Russell. "Look, here's where you wind up." I came nearer to be shown, and at the sound of a step outside the window he just lifted his eyes for a moment, and asked in a careless way, "Who is that gawky young fellow? I saw him at the station." [Illustration: "He put down the watch and tilted his chair, leaning back on it."] "Oh, that is Rupert Bowman, our ticket-collector," I said, foolishly ashamed that anybody so plain and awkward should be a friend of ours.