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“This note contains a request from an old client of ours, Dr. PhelpsMcCarthy, of Willow Lea House Academy, West Hampstead, that I should atonce send him a young man who should be qualified to teach Latin andEnglish to a small class of boys under fourteen years of age. Hisvacancy appears to be the very one which you are looking for. The termsare not munificent—sixty pounds, board, lodging, and washing—but thework is not onerous, and you would have the evenings to yourself.”
“That would do,” I cried, with all the eagerness of the man who seeswork at last after weary months of seeking.
“I don’t know that it is quite fair to these gentlemen whose names havebeen so long upon our list,” said Mr. Lumsden, glancing down at his openledger. “But the coincidence is so striking that I feel we must reallygive you the refusal of it.”
“Then I accept it, sir, and I am much obliged to you.”
“There is one small provision in Dr. McCarthy’s letter. He stipulatesthat the applicant must be a man with an imperturbably good temper.”
“I am the very man,” said I, with conviction.
“Well,” said Mr. Lumsden, with some hesitation, “I hope that your temperis really as good as you say, for I rather fancy that you may need it.”
“I presume that every elementary schoolmaster does.”
“Yes, sir, but it is only fair to you to warn you that there may be someespecially trying circumstances in this particular situation. Dr. PhelpsMcCarthy does not make such a condition without some very good andpressing reason.”
There was a certain solemnity in his speech which struck a chill in thedelight with which I had welcomed this providential vacancy.
“May I ask the nature of these circumstances?” I asked.
“We endeavour to hold the balance equally between our clients, and to beperfectly frank with all of them. If I knew of objections to you Ishould certainly communicate them to Dr. McCarthy, and so I have nohesitation in doing as much for you. I find,” he continued, glancingover the pages of his ledger, “that within the last twelve months wehave supplied no fewer than seven Latin masters to Willow Lea HouseAcademy, four of them having left so abruptly as to forfeit theirmonth’s salary, and none of them having stayed more than eight weeks.”
“And the other masters? Have they stayed?”
“There is only one other residential master, and he appears to beunchanged. You can understand, Mr. Weld,” continued the agent, closingboth the ledger and the interview, “that such rapid changes are notdesirable from a master’s point of view, whatever may be said for themby an agent working on commission. I have no idea why these gentlemenhave resigned their situations so early. I can only give you the facts,and advise you to see Dr. McCarthy at once and to form your ownconclusions.”
Great is the power of the man who has nothing to lose, and it wastherefore with perfect serenity, but with a good deal of curiosity, thatI rang early that afternoon the heavy wrought-iron bell of the WillowLea House Academy. The building was a massive pile, square and ugly,standing in its own extensive grounds, with a broad carriage-sweepcurving up to it from the road. It stood high, and commanded a view onthe one side of the grey roofs and bristling spires of Northern London,and on the other of the well-wooded and beautiful country which fringesthe great city. The door was opened by a boy in buttons, and I was showninto a well-appointed study, where the principal of the academypresently joined me.
The warnings and insinuations of the agent had prepared me to meet acholeric and overbearing person—one whose manner was an insupportableprovocation to those who worked under him. Anything further from thereality cannot be imagined. He was a frail, gentle creature,clean-shaven and round-shouldered, with a bearing which was so courteousthat it became almost deprecating. His bushy hair was thickly shot withgrey, and his age I should imagine to verge upon sixty. His voice waslow and suave, and he walked with a certain mincing delicacy of manner.His whole appearance was that of a kindly scholar, who was more at homeamong his books than in the practical affairs of the world.
“I am sure that we shall be very happy to have your assistance, Mr.Weld,” said he, after a few professional questions. “Mr. PercivalManners left me yesterday, and I should be glad if you could take overhis duties to-morrow.”
“May I ask if that is Mr. Percival Manners of Selwyn?” I asked.
“Precisely. Did you know him?”
“Yes; he is a friend of mine.”
“An excellent teacher, but a little hasty in his disposition. It was hisonly fault. Now, in your case, Mr. Weld, is your own temper under goodcontrol? Supposing for argument’s sake that I were to so far forgetmyself as to be rude to you or to speak roughly or to jar your feelingsin any way, could you rely upon yourself to control your emotions?”
I smiled at the idea of this courteous, little, mincing creatureruffling my nerves.
“I think that I could answer for it, sir,” said I.
“Quarrels are very painful to me,” said he. “I wish every one to live inharmony under my roof. I will not deny Mr. Percival Manners hadprovocation, but I wish to find a man who can raise himself aboveprovocation, and sacrifice his own feelings for the sake of peace andconcord.”
“I will do my best, sir.”
“You cannot say more, Mr. Weld. In that case I shall expect youto-night, if you can get your things ready so soon.”
I not only succeeded in getting my things ready, but I found time tocall at the Benedict Club in Piccadilly, where I knew that I should findManners if he were still in town. There he was sure enough in thesmoking-room, and I questioned him, over a cigarette, as to his reasonsfor throwing up his recent situation.
“You don’t tell me that you are going to Dr. Phelps McCarthy’s Academy?”he cried, staring at me in surprise. “My dear chap, it’s no use. Youcan’t possibly remain there.”
“But I saw him, and he seemed the most courtly, inoffensive fellow. Inever met a man with more gentle manners.”
“He! oh, he’s all right. There’s no vice in him. Have you seenTheophilus St. James?”
