But
refinement in such matters is easily blunted if one lives much with
people who think any little meanness fair that is not found out. I
really saw no harm in trying to overhear all that I could of the
conversation between my father and Mr. Andrewes, though I was aware,
from their manner, that I was not meant to hear it. I lingered near my
father, therefore, and pretended to be watching the pheasants, for a
certain instinct made me feel that I should not like my father to see
me listening. He was one of those highly, scrupulously honourable
gentlemen, before whose face it was impossible to do or say anything
unworthy or mean.
He spoke in low tones, so that I lost most of what he said; but the
parson's voice was a peculiarly clear one, and though he lowered it, I
heard a good deal.
"I saw him yesterday," was Mr. Andrewes' first remark.
("That's the tutor," thought I.)
My father's answer I lost; but I caught fragments of Mr. Andrewes'
next remarks, which were full of information on this important matter.
"Quite young, good-tempered--little boy so fond of him, nothing would
have induced them to part with him; but they were going abroad."
Which sounded well; but I suspected the parson of a good deal of
officious advice in a long sentence, of which I only caught the words,
"Can't begin too early.
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