She had so completely got the better of Mr. Dombrain that she had reduced him to a kind of moral pulp, and he leaned back in his chair utterly crushed.
"I want the situation of chaperon to Miss Kaituna Pethram.
"If I give it to you, as I can, will you hold your tongue about--about--my past life?"
"Yes, certainly; provided that you never disclose that the divorced Mrs. Pethram has anything to do with the respectable Mrs. Belswin."
Mrs. Belswin arose with a smile of triumph and took her leave.
"Beaten all along the line, I see. Let this be a lesson to you, my dear friend, never to put your thick head against a woman's wits!"
"Oh, what becomes of our prodigal sons When worried by troublesome debts and duns. When fatherly loving is quite worn out, And how to exist is a matter of doubt? Well, some go writing in London town, A few rise up and a lot fall down, Many as squatters go south of the line And 'tend to their sheep instead of their swine, Dozens in African jungles now rest, Numbers ranch in the far wild west; But have they full or an empty purse, Have they lived decently or the reverse, Married or single, wherever they roam Our prodigal sons in the end come home."
When Mr. Clendon, Vicar of Deswarth, preached on the parable of "The Prodigal Son" he little thought that it would one day be applicable to his own offspring. Yet such was the case, for Tobias Clendon--called after that celebrated character in the Apocrypha--came home from Oxford, where he was supposed to be studying for the Church, and resolutely refused to become a curate, with the chance of a possible bishopric somewhere about the forties. The fact is, the young man had contracted the fatal habit of scribbling, and having had a few articles on dogcarts, poetry, Saint Simonism--such was the wideness of his range--accepted by friendly editors, had resolved to devote his energies to literature. He had not ambition enough to become a great writer, nor enough modesty to sink to the level of a literary hack; but seeing a chance of earning his bread and butter in an easy fashion, he determined to take advantage of it and get through life as happily as possible. Having, therefore, made up his mind to be a scribbler of ephemeral essays, verse, stories--anything that paid, in fact--he had also made up his mind to tell his respected parent, but, having a wholesome dread of said parent, was afraid to do so.