‘Lucky dog!’ said Robert, turning his friend into a country road leading out of the village, ‘he’s found one of the rarest moths of the district. Such a hero he’ll be in the Club to-morrow night. It’s extraordinary what a rational interest has done for that fellow! I nearly fought him in public last winter.’ And he turned to his friend with a laugh, and yet with a little quick look of feeling in the gray eyes. ‘“Magnificent, but not war,”’ said Langham dryly. ‘I wouldn’t have given much for your chances against those shoulders.’ ‘Oh, I don’t know. I should have had a little science on my side, which counts for a great deal. We turned him out of the Club for brutality toward the old grandmother he lives with--turned him out in public. Such a scene! I shall never forget the boy’s face. It was like a corpse, and the eyes burning out of it. He made for me, but the others closed up round, and we got him put out.’ ‘Hard lines on the grandmother,’ remarked Langham. ‘She thought so--poor old thing! She left her cottage that night, thinking he would murder her, and went to a friend. At the end of a week he came into the friend’s house, where she was alone in bed. She cowered under the bed-clothes, she told me, expecting him to strike her. Instead of which he threw his wages down beside her and gruffly invited her to come home. “He wouldn’t do her no mischief.” Everybody dissuaded her, but the plucky old thing went. A week or two afterward she sent for me and I found her crying. She was sure the lad was ill, he spoke to nobody at his work. “Lord, sir!” she said, “it do remind me, when he sits glowering at nights, of those folks in the Bible, when the Devils inside ‘em kep’ a-tearing ‘em. But he’s like a new-born babe to me, sir--never does me no ‘arm. And it do go to my heart, sir, to see how poorly he do take his vittles!” So I made tracks for that lad,’ said Robert, his eyes kindling, his whole frame dilating. ‘I found him in the fields one morning. I have seldom lived through so much in half an hour. In the evening I walked him up to the Club, and we re-admitted him, and since then the boy has been like one clothed and in his right mind. If there is any trouble in the Club I set him on, and he generally puts it right. And when I was laid up with a chill in the spring, and the poor fellow came trudging up every night after his work to ask for me--well, never mind! but it gives one a good glow at one’s heart to think about it.’ The speaker threw back his head impulsively, as though defying his own feeling. Langham looked at him curiously. The pastoral temper was a novelty to him, and the strong development of it in the undergraduate of his Oxford recollections had its interest. A quarter to six,’ said Robert, as on their return from their walk they were descending a low wooded hill above the village, and the church clock rang out. ‘I must hurry, or I shall be late for my storytelling.’