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catalogue of second-hand books.
Philip read it.
‘Is it good?’ asked Aunt Louisa.
‘Not so good as I deserve,’ answered Philip, with a smile,
giving it to her.
‘I’ll read it afterwards when I’ve got my spectacles,’ she
said.
But after breakfast Mary Ann came in to say the butcher
was there, and she generally forgot.
Mr. Perkins went on.
‘I’m disappointed with you. And I can’t understand. I
know you can do things if you want to, but you don’t seem
to want to any more. I was going to make you a monitor
next term, but I think I’d better wait a bit.’
Philip flushed. He did not like the thought of being
passed over. He tightened his lips.
‘And there’s something else. You must begin thinking of
your scholarship now. You won’t get anything unless you
start working very seriously.’
Philip was irritated by the lecture. He was angry with the
headmaster, and angry with himself.
‘I don’t think I’m going up to Oxford,’ he said.
‘Why not? I thought your idea was to be ordained.’
‘I’ve changed my mind.’
‘Why?’
Philip did not answer. Mr. Perkins, holding himself odd-
ly as he always did, like a figure in one of Perugino’s pictures,
drew his fingers thoughtfully through his beard. He looked
at Philip as though he were trying to understand and then

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