He smiled as he thought of this excellent fellow’s first morning in

the promoted capacity of private secretary. He would come in very

softly, one eye looking more intelligent than the other; the air of

the City clerk discarded, and in its place the bearing that belonged

to new robes of office worn for the first time. He would bow, say

‘Good morning, Mr. Rogers,’ glance round with one eye on his employer

and another on a possible chair, seat himself with a sigh that meant

‘I have written a new poem in the night, and would love to read it to

you if I dared,’ then flatten out his oblong notebook and look up,

expectant and receptive. Rogers would say ‘Good morning, Mr. Minks.

We’ve got a busy day before us. Now, let me see—-‘ and would meet his

glance with welcome. He would look quickly from one eye to the otherto this day he did not know which one was right to meet-and would

wonder for the thousandth time how such an insignificant face could go

with such an honest, capable mind. Then he smiled again as he

remembered Frank, the little boy whose schooling he was paying for,

and realised that Minks would bring a message of gratitude from Mrs.

Minks, perhaps would hand him, with a gesture combining dignity and

humbleness, a little note of thanks in a long narrow envelope of pale

mauve, bearing a flourishing monogram on its back.

And Rogers scowled a little as he thought of the air of gruffness

he would assume while accepting it, saying as pleasantly as he could

manage, ‘Oh, Mr. Minks, that’s nothing at all; I’m only too delighted

to be of service to the lad.’ For he abhorred the expression of

emotion, and his delicate sense of tact would make pretence of helping

the boy himself, rather than the struggling parents.

Au fond he had a genuine admiration for Minks, and there was

something lofty in the queer personality that he both envied and

respected. It made him rely upon his judgment in certain ways he could

not quite define. Minks seemed devoid of personal ambition in a sense

that was not weakness. He was not insensible to the importance of

money, nor neglectful of chances that enabled him to do well by his

wife and family, but—he was after other things as well, if not

chiefly. With a childlike sense of honesty he had once refused a

position in a company that was not all it should have been, and the

high pay thus rejected pointed to a scrupulous nicety of view that the

City, of course, deemed foolishness. And Rogers, aware of this, had

taken to him, seeking as it were to make this loss good to him in

legitimate ways. Also the fellow belonged to leagues and armies and

‘things,’ quixotic some of them, that tried to lift humanity. That is,

he gave of his spare time, as also of his spare money, to help. His

Saturday evenings, sometimes a whole bank holiday, he devoted to the

welfare of others, even though the devotion Rogers thought

misdirected.

For Minks hung upon the fringe of that very modern, new-fashioned,

but almost freakish army that worships old, old ideals, yet insists

upon new-fangled names for them. Christ, doubtless, was his model, but

it must be a Christ properly and freshly labelled; his Christianity

must somewhere include the prefix ‘neo,’ and the word ‘scientific’

must also be dragged in if possible before he was satisfied. Minks,

indeed, took so long explaining to himself the wonderful title that he

was sometimes in danger of forgetting the brilliant truths it so

vulgarly concealed. Yet never quite concealed. He must be up-to-date,

that was all. His attitude to the world scraped acquaintance with

nobility somewhere. His gift was a rare one. Out of so little, he gave

his mite, and gave it simply, unaware that he was doing anything

unusual.