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“I—I understand that the late Dr. Arnold sent his son to Oxford instead of Cambridge, because—because at the latter University they didn’t study Aristotle,” said David.

He genuinely wanted to know about this, because recently his own thoughts—by way of St. Thomas Aquinas—had been very much occupied with Aristotle; but, being shy, his voice sounded aggressive.

“Arnold would,” said the other Arnold coldly.

“But—but Dr. Arnold was surely a great man, wasn’t he?”

This time David’s voice was unmistakably timid.

The others exchanged smiles.

“Was he? That’s the question,” said Arnold.

A few years ago Dick would have had no hesitation in exclaiming indignantly, “A great man? I should just think he was!” Why, he had called his only son after him, in spite of the Doña’s marked preference for Maria-José. But recently his children had insisted on his reading a small biography of Dr. Arnold that has since become a classic; very unwillingly had he complied, as he had expected it to be like Carlyle’s Heroes and Hero-Worship, which his sister, Joanna, had made him read in his youth, and which he had secretly loathed; but he had been pleasantly surprised, and had found himself at the end in complete agreement with the writer.