He had not founded a great public school. He had
founded a little country grammar school which had pottered along
for a century and a half. The great public school was the growth
of the last fifty years, and no credit to the pillar of piety.
Besides, he was only nominally pious. Nasmyth had made researches,
and he knew. And why throw good money after a bad man?
"Are there many of your opinion?" inquired Raffles, when the
agitator paused for breath. And Nasmyth beamed on us with flashing
eyes.
"Not one to my knowledge as yet," said he. "But we shall see after
to-morrow night. I hear it's to be quite an exceptional gathering
this year; let us hope it may contain a few sane men. There are
none on the present staff, and I only know of one among the trustees!"
Raffles refrained from smiling as his dancing eye met mine.
"I can understand your view," he said. "I am not sure that I don't
share it to some extent. But it seems to me a duty to support a
general movement like this even if it doesn't take the direction or
the shape of our own dreams. I suppose you yourself will give
something, Nasmyth?"
"Give something? I? Not a brass farthing!" cried the implacable
banker.
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