Decline and Fall

in greater fastidiousness rather than in greater self-control that the future progress of the race lies. I shall be interested to hear what your experience has been over the matter. The chaplain does not agree with me in this. He says great sensibility usually leads to enervation of will. Let me know what you think.

“What do you think about that?” asked Paul, handing Mr. Prendergast the letter.

“Well,” he said after studying it carefully, “I think your friend is wrong about sensibility. It doesn’t do to rely on one’s own feelings, does it, not in anything?”

“No, I mean about the money.”

“Good gracious, Pennyfeather! I hope you are in no doubt about that. Accept it at once, of course.”

“It’s a temptation.”

“My dear boy, it would be a sin to refuse. Twenty pounds! Why, it takes me half a term to earn that.”

The bell rang for tea. In the dining-hall Paul gave the letter to Grimes.

“Shall I take that twenty pounds?” he asked.

“Take it? My God! I should think you would.”

“Well, I’m not sure,” said Paul.

He thought about it all through afternoon school, all the time he was dressing for dinner, and all through dinner. It was a severe struggle, but his early training was victorious.

“If I take that money,” he said to himself, “I shall never know whether I have acted rightly or not. It would always be on my mind. If I refuse, I shall be sure of having done right. I shall look back upon my self-denial with exquisite self-approval. By refusing I can convince myself that, in spite of the unbelievable things that have been happening to me during the last ten days, I am still the same Paul Pennyfeather I have respected so long. It is a test-case of the durability of my ideals.”

He tried to explain something of what he felt to Grimes as they sat in Mrs. Roberts’ bar parlour that evening.

“I’m afraid you’ll find my attitude rather difficult to understand,” he said. “I suppose it’s largely a matter of upbringing. There is every reason why I should take this money. Digby-Vaine-Trumpington is exceedingly rich; and if he keeps it, it will undoubtedly be spent on betting or on some deplorable debauch. Owing to his party I have suffered irreparable harm. My whole future is shattered, and I have directly lost one hundred and twenty pounds a year in scholarships and two hundred and fifty pounds a year allowance from my guardian. By any ordinary process of thought, the money is justly mine. But,” said Paul Pennyfeather, “there is my honour. For generations the British bourgeoisie have spoken of themselves as gentlemen, and by that they have meant, among other things, a self-respecting scorn of irregular perquisites. It is the quality that distinguishes the gentleman from both the artist and the aristocrat. Now I am a gentleman. I can’t help it; it’s born in me. I just can’t take that money.”

“Well, I’m a gentleman too, old boy,” said Grimes, “and I was afraid you might feel like that, so I did my best for you and saved you from yourself.”

“What d’you mean by that?”

“Dear old boy, don’t be angry, but immediately after tea I sent off a wire to your friend Potts: Tell Trumpington send money quick, and signed it ‘Pennyfeather.’ I don’t mind lending you the bob till it comes, either.”

“Grimes, you wretch!” said Paul, but, in spite of himself, he felt a great wave of satisfaction surge up within him. “We must have another drink on that.”

“Good for you,” said Grimes, “and it’s on me this round.”

“To the durability of ideals!” said Paul as he got his pint.

“My word, what a mouthful!” said Grimes; “I can’t say that. Cheerioh!”

---

Two days later came another letter from Arthur Potts:

Dear Pennyfeather,

I enclose Trumpington’s cheque for £20. I am glad that my dealings with him are at an end. I cannot pretend to understand your attitude in this matter, but no doubt you are the best judge.

Stiggins is reading a paper to the O.S.C.U. on “Sex Repression and Religious Experience.” Everyone expects rather a row, because you know how keen Walton is on the mystical element, which I think Stiggins is inclined to discount.

Yours,

Arthur Potts.

There is a most interesting article in the Educational Review on the new methods that are being tried at the Innesborough High School to induce coordination of the senses. They put small objects into the children’s mouths and make them draw the shapes in red chalk. Have you tried this with your boys? I must say I envy you your opportunities. Are your colleagues enlightened?

“This same Potts,” said Grimes as he read the letter, “would appear to be something of a stinker. Still, we’ve got the doings. How about a binge?”

“Yes,” said Paul, “I think we ought to do something about one. I should like to ask Prendy too.”

“Why, of course. It’s just what Prendy needs. He’s been looking awfully down in the mouth lately. Why shouldn’t we all go over to the Metropole at Cwmpryddyg for dinner one night? We shall have to wait until the old boy goes away, otherwise he’ll notice that there’s no one on duty.”

Later in the day Paul suggested the plan to Mr. Prendergast.

“Really, Pennyfeather,” he said, “I think that’s uncommonly kind of you. I hardly know what to say. Of course, I should love it. I can’t remember when I dined at an hotel last. Certainly not since the war. It will be a treat. My dear boy, I’m quite overcome.”

And, much to Paul’s embarrassment, a tear welled up in each of Mr. Prendergast’s eyes, and coursed down his cheeks.

VII

Philbrick

That morning just before luncheon the weather began to show signs of clearing, and by half-past one the sun was shining. The Doctor made one of his rare visits to the school dining-hall. At his entry everybody stopped eating and laid down his knife and fork.

“Boys,” said the Doctor, regarding them benignly, “I have an