"Shall I see if the carriage is waiting, mother?" said Hubert, interrupting when he could a discussion of the best places in which to spend the coming heated term. "You might," Mrs. Gray replied, "I did not wish to stay late." Hubert went out with alacrity to signal the faithful coachman, already in waiting. They had soon departed, and both young people were glad to get out under the pure, gleaming stars and hasten the carriage to the dear home where the face of the Lord had first been seen by each, and was yet to be seen in increasing loveliness. Hubert found his father still in the library, but asleep. He awoke as his son entered. "Well, Hubert," he said, "did you have a good time?" "No, sir," Hubert replied, "I had a wretched time." "How was that?" his father asked. "What happened?" "Nothing happened that I expected. I thought there would be some there who knew and loved Jesus Christ, and would wish to talk of Him. I did not hear Him mentioned. I might as well have been at Mrs. Butterworth's ball so far as that goes." "Well," said Mr. Gray, apologetically, "it was a social time, you know." "Yes, I know it, father. That is why I went. Are not people usually most sociable about the things that interest them most? There was a company of people, professedly born from above and expecting soon to see the very glory of God. They take it very coolly, at all events. I believe it is a sham." "Oh, Hubert," groaned his father, "don't say that." "I don't mean," said Hubert quickly, "that Jesus is a sham. I believe," and his deep eyes softened, "that He is the most real fact in the universe. But the belief of those people, father! That sort of gathering is what Doctor Schoolman calls 'relaxation,' and I think he is right. I am convinced that Christ is irksome to them; a subject to be endured on Sundays, but to enjoy relaxation from at other times. Am I right?" "Hubert," said Mr. Gray, slowly, "I believe you are partly right. But be deliberate and generous in your conclusions. Do not judge us too hastily or hotly." Hubert winced as his father included himself in his own sweeping indictment. Mr. Gray went on: "Some of us have known Him, even as you do, in earlier days. But we have lost the brightness of our vision through"--he hesitated--"through sin. We have followed afar off, and are very poor representatives now. Be patient, and it may be the warm zeal of such as you will quicken us again." He looked at his son appealingly. Hubert's generous heart melted. "Forgive me, father," he said humbly. "I have no right to judge anybody. Forget my tirade if you can. And I," he added with a faint smile, "will try to forget the Social." CHAPTER XI MR. BOND'S LECTURE