Mrs. Cowey had been so accustomed to scheming on her own account
that she would scheme for anyone rather than not scheme at all. Many
mothers turned to her in their hour of need and, provided they were
spiritually minded, Mrs. Cowey never failed to do her best for them;
if the marriage of a young Bachelor of Arts was not made in Heaven, it
was probably made, or at any rate attempted, in Mrs. Cowey's
drawing-room. On the present occasion all the deacons of the
University in whom there lurked any spark of promise were exhaustively
discussed, and the upshot was that our friend Theobald was declared by
Mrs. Cowey to be about the best thing she could do that afternoon.
"I don't know that he's a particularly fascinating young man, my
dear," said Mrs. Cowey, "and he's only a second son, but then he's got
his fellowship, and even the second son of such a man as Mr. Pontifex,
the publisher, should have something very comfortable."
"Why, yes, my dear," rejoined Mrs. Allaby complacently, "that's what
one rather feels."
CHAPTER X
THE interview, like all other good things, had to come to an end;
the days were short, and Mrs. Allaby had a six miles' drive to
Crampsford.
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