His father's house had only escaped the snare by a miracle, and Paul was obsessed by a sense of that miracle. The case of stuffed birds in the hall, the gilt presentation clock in the drawing-room, the old arm-chair in the dining-room, the yards of commentaries and sermons in the study, with the illuminated addresses above them, were miraculously pleasant. For days after his return, he kept looking at them, and marvelling inwardly that they were just the same. The furniture of Manning's and Mr. Tressor's rooms had already made him feel that in his home recollections there must be some mistake. But he knew now, staring about him, that there was not. And he was still quite glad, and a little subdued. "Oh, Paul," cried his mother, hurrying into the hall to meet him, "how well you're looking! Are you glad to be back?" "Very glad, mother darling," said Paul, kissing her. "Where's dad?" "It's the Band of Hope night, dear, don't you remember? He's not back yet. But he said he wouldn't be late for supper. Sit down over there where I can see you, and tell me all about Cambridge." Paul laughed. "That's a big order," he said. "I don't know where to begin." "Tell me about your children's service and the open air meetings, Paul," said his mother. "Is Mr. Hartley nice? Your father and I are so glad you've made such friends." Paul thrust "The Literary Lounge," the College Feast, the Theatre, Donaldson, Strether and Manning, into the back of his mind, and told her. "And do you find the lectures hard?" she queried. Paul laughed gaily. What a topsy-turvy notion of Cambridge his mother, after all, must have! His father's key grated in the door and Paul ran out into the hall. The clergyman came in, followed by Mr. Derrick. "Ah, Paul," he said, "it is good to see you home again. Come in, Mr. Derrick. Paul's just back. I'll get you the books at once." He entered the study, and Mr. Derrick held out his hand. Paul took in the dapper little man, from his spotless tall linen collar to his neat black boots. "How are you?" he said genially. "How goes things?" "How do you do, Mr. Paul," said Mr. Derrick nervously. "We are all very well, thank you. Have you had a good time at college? How short the terms are! You seem scarcely to have gone away at all." "Eh?" queried Paul, momentarily astonished. Then he recollected. "Yes," he confessed, "I suppose they do seem short. We read more in the vacs. than in the terms, you know." "I hope you will still be able to lend us a hand, however," said his visitor. "Rather," said Paul. "Who's taking the children on Sunday?" "I am, unless you'd rather." "I put Paul down for the evening," said his father, returning. "I rather hope he'll go to church with his mother in the morning. She'd enjoy having him. You know what mothers are, Derrick." "Yes, yes, to be sure," said the little man quickly. "I should have thought of it. But I expect we shall see a good deal of you, Mr. Paul."