“Very hard work; breaking stones on the road is play to it,” said the gentle rector, who had no talent for teaching, though he had a very pretty talent for preaching. “It seems a pity that he should not close with Miles’ offer; Mark would be a treasure to him.” “You think he would?” “Can you doubt it? Don’t you know what he is to you and to me? On all grounds I think he should accept it, if he has no personal dislike to the arrangement. At all events he should go and try.” So Mark went, and Gilbert, with many a shrug, pronounced him a lucky fellow, and promised to come and dine with him. The rector took occasion, on Mark’s departure, to speak to his son as to his own path in life. “Mark has made his start in life, Gilbert. Don’t you think it would be advisable for you to make up your mind as to what you will do?” “Yes, sir, I suppose it would; but it is so hard to make up one’s mind when one has no special vocation. Mark’s a lucky fellow; his mind was made up for him.” “I have very good reason to think that if you had had Mark’s aptitude, the offer would have been made to you.” “It is a pity I hadn’t; but I don’t suppose it’s a man’s fault not caring for things. It must be a great bore to you, sir, to have a son like me, who doesn’t care for any of the things you care for. I don’t suppose two men were ever more unlike.” “I don’t ask you to consider what I should like you to do; that, perhaps, would be unfair; but only to see that, taking your own view, what you are doing will not pay. If I were to die, there would not be more than enough for your mother and sister.” “So you have told me before; so the mother has told me. It is unfortunate that I have no taste for anything. I don’t find that I care about doing the same thing for two days together.” “Does it never occur to you that there is such a thing as duty?” “A very useful dissyllable, no doubt, sir, and telling in a song; but it is very much gone out of fashion nowadays, with the Church Catechism, high pews, and church clerks. No one considers that he ought to be ‘content with that state of life,’ etc.” “Gilbert,” said Mr. Echlin, more sternly than he had ever spoken to his son, “if you do not woo duty as a mistress, she will drive you as a taskmistress. The man who has no love of duty had better never have been born. He has no high aims, no ennobling thoughts. Do not, I beseech you, give me the misery of knowing that my only son is an idle man.” “Do not distress yourself, father. I suppose I shall drop into something before long. There can be no hurry. If you had ten children it would be another matter. There’s Elgitha; she has energy enough, and cares about lots of things. If you would send her to Girton, sir, I feel sure she’d take a double first, and like it.”