“It’s not right,” he grunted, “and it’s not wrong. It’s neuter. Oh, have it as you like. It’s all very attractive, of course; I’m entirely in sympathy with the objects of all these guilds, as you know. It’s only the guilds themselves I object to--a lot of able-bodied people wasting their forces banding themselves together to bring about relatively trivial and unimportant things, when there’s all the work of the shop waiting to be done. Oh, I don’t mean Hillier doesn’t work--of course he’s first-class--but the more of his mind he gives to incense and stoles, the less he’ll have to give to the work that matters--and it’s not as if he had such an immense deal of it altogether--mind, I mean.” “But after all,” Eddy demurred, “if that sort of thing appeals to anybody....” “Oh, let ’em have it, let ’em have it,” said Traherne wearily. “Let ’em all have what they like; but don’t _you_ be dragged into a net of millinery and fuss. Even you will surely admit that things don’t all matter equally--that it’s more important, for instance, that people should learn a little about profit-sharing than a great deal about church ornaments; more important that they should use leadless glaze than that they should use incense. Well, then, there you are; go for the essentials, and let the incidentals look after themselves.” “Oh, let’s go for everything,” said Eddy with enthusiasm. “It’s all worth having.” The second curate regarded him with a cynical smile, and gave him up as a bad job. But anyhow, he had joined the Church Socialist League, whose members according to themselves, do go for the essentials, and, according to some other people, go to the devil; anyhow go, or endeavour to go, somewhere, and have no superfluous energy to spend on toys by the roadside. Only Eddy Oliver seemed to have energy to spare for every game that turned up. He made himself rather useful, and taught the boys’ clubs single-stick and boxing, and played billiards and football with them.