"That is all very well," said the Master, scratching his head, as if he had been a rustic clodhopper, instead of a learned and accomplished scholar, "and very well put, and perhaps true. I say, _perhaps_ true, for of course this is only one side of the question. But I am not a private patron. I am only a sort of trustee of the patronage, exercising it in conjunction with various other people. Come, Mildmay, you know as well as I do, poor old St. John, though his may be a hard case, has no claim whatever upon the college; and if you don't accept it, there's Ruffhead and two or three others who have a right to their chance. You may be sure Ruffhead won't give up his chance of marriage and domestic bliss for any poor curate. Of course the case, as you state it, is hard. What does the parish say?" "The parish! I was not there long enough to find out the opinion of the parish." "Ah, you hesitate. Look here, Mildmay; if I were a betting man, I'd give you odds, or whatever you call it, that the parish would prefer you." "It is impossible; or, if they did, it would only be a double wrong." But Mildmay's voice was not so confident as when he had been pleading Mr. St. John's cause, and his eyes fell before the Master's penetrating eyes. "A wrong if you like, but it's human nature," said the Master, with some triumph. "I will speak to the Dean about it, if I see him this afternoon, and I'll speak to Singleton. If they think anything of your arguments, I shan't oppose. But I warn you I don't think it the least likely. His age, if there were nothing else, is against him, rather than in his favour. We don't want parishes hampered with an old man past work." "He is just as old being curate as if he were rector." "Yes, yes. But to give him the living now, at his age, would be to weight the parish with him till he was a hundred, and destroy the chance for young men like yourself. _You_ don't mind, but I can tell you Ruffhead does. No, no. Singleton will never hear of it; and what can I do? I am going away." "Singleton will do whatever you tell him," said Mildmay; "and you could write even though you are going away." "Hush, hush," said the Master, with a half laugh, "that is all a popular delusion. Singleton is the most independent-minded man I know--and the others are as obstinate as pigs. Talk of turning them as one likes! Poor old St. John, though! we might hear of another place to suit him, perhaps. He has something of his own, I suppose--some private income? How many children has he? of course, being only a curate, he must have heaps of children. (Coming, you rascal! coming, Ned.)" "He has two daughters grown up," said Mildmay, "and two small children; and so far as I can judge is---- What is there to laugh at?" he added, with a look of the greatest surprise.