Stanton, a Georgian house standing amid terraced lawns and tree-shaded walks, with a high-walled orchard at one extremity and a paddock for pony-riding at the other, combined comeliness and good sense in equal proportions. In the shelter of its urbane dignity dwelt Daniel Williams, his son Tom, his new young wife and her children, his assistant master Felix Elderbrook, sundry domestic servants, and some thirty-five boys of varying ages. Two unresolved questions were in the habit of drifting in and out of Felix’s mind. About the one, Mr Williams’s peremptory resignation from the headmastership of St Swithins, he confessed himself curious; but from the other he averted his eyes, for to ask why Faith had consented to marry Dan Williams would have been to explore a region distasteful to him. This morning had a special colour and quality. It was the first day of the Easter vacation. The clearing-up, the calculation of marks, the helping to pack, the farewells, the triumphant dispatch of the boys to their several homes, all those things belonged to yesterday.
