"It is not right, Joseph. It is very far indeed from being right. It would seem that right and wrong, as I interpret such plain words, have no definite meaning to you." "Pop away!" "What?" "I said ’Pop away.’ I meant, go on firing." "I beg to be allowed to finish without flippant interruption on your part. Personally, the affairs of this world do not concern me any longer. I am interested in them so far as they concern others, my own flesh and blood. Susan was born in Melchester, and so were you." "We couldn’t help it. You might have chosen a livelier spot. Me and Susan wasn’t consulted. Children in a better managed world would be consulted, but there you are." "Do you think, Joseph, in your arrogance, that you could manage this world better than it is managed?" "Lord bless you, yes!" "I trust that the Lord will bless me, young man. but He will assuredly not bless you, unless you mend your ways and your manners." "Keep it up!" It enraged her to perceive that he was enjoying himself. She wondered vaguely how the Bishop would deal with such a hardened offender. "I, for one, refuse to accompany you to London." "Sorry." "Are you sorry? I doubt it. Susan will miss me"—she wiped away two tears invisible to Quinney, and her voice trembled querulously as she continued—"and Posy will be deprived of a grandmother at a time when her mind and character are being made or marred. I understand, also, that you are risking a fortune which is more than ample for a man in your station of life. It would appear also that you have taken this step in defiance of advice from the Marquess of Mel." "I took it"—he drew in his breath sharply, speaking almost as solemnly as his very upright judge—"because I had to take it. Melchester is too small for me, too sleepy, too stoopid, too hide-bound. The most wonderful thing in the whole town is just like me." "To what do you allude?" "To the spire of the Cathedral. It soars, don’t it? Can you see it laying flat on the ground? Can you fancy it asleep? It taught me to soar. When I was a boy, crawlin’ at the old man’s heel, I used to say to it: ’Gosh, you’re well out of it!’ And now"—he smiled triumphantly—"I’m well out of it, for ever and ever, Amen!" Mrs. Biddlecombe rallied her failing energies for a last charge. Somehow she was impressed by this queer son-in-law. He confounded her. She remarked slowly: "It seems a strange thing to say, but I have heard of spires struck by God’s lightning." "Maybe," said Quinney, rising; "but you can take it from me that this spire won’t be struck because it’s fitted with a lightnin’ conductor." He retired, chuckling. Mrs. Biddlecombe shook her head. She was utterly at a loss to determine whether Quinney was alluding to the Cathedral spire or to himself. If to himself, who or what was his lightning conductor? *BOOK II* *CHAPTER X* *BLUDGEONINGS*