“I think I can tell you something about him,” said the parson; “his father was my grandfather's agent. I believe he began as his steward, when we had property in this county; he must have been a shrewd sort of man, for he raised himself from a very humble origin to become a small estated proprietor and justice of the peace; and when he died, about four years ago, he left Philip Longworth something like a thousand a year in landed property, and some ready money besides.” “And this Longworth, as you call him,--what is he like?” “A good sort of fellow, who would be better if he was not possessed by a craving ambition to know fine people, and move in their society. Not being able to attain the place he aspires to in his own county, he has gone abroad, and affects to have a horror of English life and ways, the real grievance being his own personal inability to meet acceptance in a certain set. This is what I hear of him; my own knowledge is very slight. I have ever found him well-mannered and polite, and, except a slight sign of condescension, I should say pleasant.” “I take it,” said the sailor, “he must be an arrant snob.” “Not necessarily, Jack,” said Temple. “There is nothing ignoble in a man's desire to live with the best people, if he do nothing mean to reach that goal.” “Whom do you call the best people, Temple?” asked the other. “By the best people, I mean the first in rank and station. I am not speaking of their moral excellence, but of their social superiority, and of that pre-eminence which comes of an indisputable position, high name, fortune, and the world's regards. These I call the best people to live with.” “And I do not,” said Jack, rising, and throwing his napkin on the table, “not at least for men like myself. I want to associate with my equals. I want to mix with men who cannot overbear me by any accident of their wealth or title.” “Jack should never have gone into the navy, that 's clear,” said Augustus, laughing; “but let us draw round the fire and have a cigar.” “You'll have to pay your visit to the drawing-room, L'Estrange,” said Jack, “before we begin to smoke, for the governor hates tobacco, and detects it in an instant.” “I declare,” said the parson, as he looked at his splashed cords and dirty boots, “I have no courage to present myself in such a trim as this.” “Report yourself and come back at once,” cried Jack. “I 'd say, don't go in at all,” said Temple. “That's what I should do, certainly,” said Augustus. “Sit down here. What are you drinking? This is Pomare, and better than claret of a cold evening.” And the curate yielded to the soft persuasion, and, seated around the fire, the young men talked horses, dogs, and field sports, till the butler came to say that tea was served in the drawing-room, when, rising, they declared themselves too tired to stay up longer, and wishing each other good night they sauntered up to their rooms to bed. CHAPTER IV. ON THE CROQUET LAWN.