“Yes, at Harrow,” said Grace. This prompt seizure of her opportunity was of no avail, however. Public opinion was now entirely with T. S. M. Poor Grace stood alone. She consoled herself with a massive piece of toast, with butter and marmalade to match. “Seeing that Dimsdale’s happiness is at stake,” said Toddles, with an air of patronage and protection that was perfectly insufferable, “we shall do well to stick by him in this, and give him our undivided support. We’ll admit that he’s not much chance under the most favourable conditions; but with Biffin as umpire he’s as good as plucked before he goes on the field. Besides, we want this to be a sporting event. Fair play all round, you know, and no favour, and may the best man win.” “Toddles,” said the keen Grace, pausing an instant in her well-organized assault on the toast and marmalade, “you’re mixed. Sort yourself out a bit. Toddles, you’re talking rot.” “Oh, but, my dear Grace,” said I, “it’s not rot for me, I can assure you. It’s a matter for earnest consideration.” It was really enjoyable to feel such a weight of public opinion behind one. It was evidently a crisis that had been coming slowly to a head for years. Here was the opportunity of the long-suffering to test the legality of Grace’s uncompromising attitude on the Biffin question. In the somewhat technical language of the barrister, they were simply making a test case of it, in order to get a judicial pronouncement as to whether in future Grace was to be licensed to do as she liked. “O’ course I shall, James,” said Grace; “I always do, don’t I?” “I’ll tell you what,” said Archie, “I suggest that the question be submitted to arbitration. We’ll submit it to the Guv’nor, and take his verdict as final. Will you agree to that, Grace?” “You know quite well, Archie,” said Grace, in a honeyed voice, “that I am always perfectly willing for you to fill up your spare time in a way that’s profitable and amusing to yourself, providing it’s not likely to do you personally any harm, or to lead astray those who are younger than you are. Talk it over by all means with your father, Archie, but if I say Biffin will stand, you can take my word for it.” The high-wrought state of public opinion, that was enough to make the French pause and the Sultan tremble, merely appeared to incite the dauntless Grace to new audacity. She positively snapped her fingers at it, and ate her toast and marmalade with an air of the most victorious unconcern. “H’m,” said the little parson, in his best clerical tone; “she seems to be a person of character and ideas. What’s to be done? We can’t let Dimsdale be knocked down and walked over on an occasion of this sort. Grace, I certainly think that your uncompromising attitude on this vexed question is greatly to be deplored.” “Deplore away,” said Grace, helping herself to butter. “What an amusing little man you are, Toddles!”