He rose up in defence of Ivor, instead of, as usual, listening pleasantly and then going his own way undeterred--a course which long experience had taught him was the wisest, especially as his mother was quite unable to notice that her advice was disregarded, if only her advice had been politely received. In vain she pointed out to him that Ivor Restormel’s mind was cheap and crude; that his orthodoxy was tepid, his manners unnecessarily enthusiastic, his whole deportment lacking in finish and refinement. Jim could not listen in respectful silence; he protested, he pleaded. He had become all of a sudden disloyal and treacherous to his mother. Gundred regarded all opposition from her son as unfilial, and could not conceive the possibility of his having any right to hold an opinion at variance with hers. She claimed to provide him with all his thoughts, henceforth and for ever, on the ground of having in the distant past provided him with a body to hold them. That her son was an individual she could never recognise, and on the rare occasions of his overt revolt, felt the indignant astonishment of Balaam when he discovered that his ass had a voice of its own. Accordingly, if Jim now opposed her criticisms, it was only a treason and a sin engendered in him by this evil spirit that had captured him, and every word that he said in Ivor’s favour only served to deepen his mother’s feeling that she was certainly called upon to rid her son and her husband of this threatening danger that had already produced such dire results in the disaffection of her nearest and dearest. ‘I cannot have you running about the hills all day with Mr. Restormel, dear,’ said Gundred blandly, but with decision. ‘But why not, mother?’ protested Jim, who, in normal circumstances would probably have said, ‘No, mother,’ and gone all the same, Gundred never knowing. ‘Because I say not, dear,’ replied Gundred inadequately. ‘You must let mother be the best judge of your companions, dear. Mother knows best--yes?’ ‘I say, you know, I think it is awfully hard lines. Ivor is the best fellow going. You don’t know him, mother.’ ‘Don’t call him Ivor, Jim,’ reproved Gundred. ‘It is not respectful. He is older than you. And that is another reason why I do not like to see you wasting your time with him. He is not good company for you.’ ‘Yes; but you always say that. What is there wrong with poor old Ivor?’ Having nothing definite to allege, Gundred, of course, found it necessary to become sibylline and pompous. ‘You must trust mother, dear,’ she answered. ‘There are many things you are too young to know. It is enough for you to remember that mother does not wish you to see too much of Mr. Restormel. You must avoid him as much as possible--though, of course, without being rude and unkind.’ But Gundred’s solemn implication of mysterious knowledge had been played off so frequently that it had long since lost its effect. Jim knew well that it only concealed her invariable jealousy.