CHAPTER VII
HIS DEBT TO HENRY CHALLIS
I
Challis was out of England for more than three years after that onebrief intrusion of his into the affairs of Mr. and Mrs. Stott. Duringthe interval he was engaged upon those investigations, the results ofwhich are embodied in his monograph on the primitive peoples of theMelanesian Archipelago. It may be remembered that he followed Dr. W. H.R. Rivers' and Dr. C. G. Seligmann's inquiry into the practice andtheory of native customs. Challis developed his study more particularlywith reference to the earlier evolution of Totemism, and he was able byhis patient work among the Polynesians of Tikopia and Ontong Java, andhis comparisons of those sporadic tribes with the Papuasians of EasternNew Guinea, to correct some of the inferences with regard to the originsof exogamy made by Dr. J. G. Frazer in his great work on that subject,published some years before. A summary of Challis's argument may befound in vol. li. of the _Journal of the Royal AnthropologicalInstitute_.
When he returned to England, Challis shut himself up at Chilborough. Hehad engaged a young Cambridge man, Gregory Lewes, as his secretary andlibrarian, and the two devoted all their time to planning, writing, andpreparing the monograph referred to.
In such circumstances it is hardly remarkable that Challis should havecompletely forgotten the existence of the curious child which hadintrigued his interest nearly four years earlier, and it was not untilhe had been back at Challis Court for more than eight months, that theincursion of Percy Crashaw revived his memory of the phenomenon.
The library at Challis Court occupies a suite of three rooms. The firstand largest of the three is part of the original structure of the house.Its primitive use had been that of a chapel, a one-storey buildingjutting out from the west wing. This Challis had converted into a verypracticable library with a continuous gallery running round at a heightof seven feet from the floor, and in it he had succeeded in arrangingsome 20,000 volumes. But as his store of books grew--and at one periodit had grown very rapidly--he had been forced to build, and so he hadadded first one and then the other of the two additional rooms whichbecame necessary. Outside, the wing had the appearance of an undulyelongated chapel, as he had continued the original roof over hisaddition, and copied the style of the old chapel architecture. The onlyexternal alteration he had made had been the lowering of the sills ofthe windows.
It was in the furthest of these three rooms that Challis and hissecretary worked, and it was from here that they saw the gloomy figureof the Rev. Percy Crashaw coming up the drive.
This was the third time he had called. His two former visits had beenunrewarded, but that morning a letter had come from him, couched incareful phrases, the purport of which had been a request for aninterview on a "matter of some moment."
Challis frowned, and rose from among an ordered litter of manuscripts.
"I shall have to see this man," he said to Lewes, and strode hastily outof the library.
Crashaw was perfunctorily apologetic, and Challis, looking somewhat outof place, smoking a heavy wooden pipe in the disused, bleakdrawing-room, waited, almost silent, until his visitor should come tothe point.
"... and the--er--matter of some moment, I mentioned," Crashaw mumbledon, "is, I should say, not altogether irrelevant to the work you are atpresent engaged upon."
"Indeed!" commented Challis, with a lift of his thick eyebrows, "noPolynesians come to settle in Stoke, I trust?"
"On broad lines, relevant on broad, anthropological lines, I mean," saidCrashaw.
Challis grunted. "Go on!" he said.
"You may remember that curious--er--abnormal child of the Stotts?" askedCrashaw.
"Stotts? Wait a minute. Yes! Curious infant with an abnormallyintelligent expression and the head of a hydrocephalic?"
Crashaw nodded. "Its development has upset me in a most unusual way," hecontinued. "I must confess that I am entirely at a loss, and I reallybelieve that you are the only person who can give me any intelligentassistance in the matter."
"Very good of you," murmured Challis.
"You see," said Crashaw, warming to his subject and interlacing hisfingers, "I happen, by the merest accident, I may say, to be the child'sgodfather."
"Ah! you have responsibilities!" commented Challis, with the first glintof amusement in his eyes.
"I have," said Crashaw, "undoubtedly I have." He leaned forward with hishands still clasped together, and rested his forearms on his thighs. Ashe talked he worked his hands up and down from the wrists, by way ofemphasis. "I am aware," he went on, "that on one point I can expectlittle sympathy from you, but I make an appeal to you, nevertheless, asa man of science and--and a magistrate; for ... for assistance."
He paused and looked up at Challis, received a nod of encouragement anddeveloped his grievance.
"I want to have the child certified as an idiot, and sent to an asylum."
"On what grounds?"
"He is undoubtedly lacking mentally," said Crashaw, "and his influenceis, or may be, malignant."
"Explain," suggested Challis.
For a few seconds Crashaw paused, intent on the pattern of the carpet,and worked his hands slowly. Challis saw that the man's knuckles werewhite, that he was straining his hands together.
"He has denied God," he said at last with great solemnity.
Challis rose abruptly, and went over to the window; the next words werespoken to his back.
"I have, myself, heard this infant of four years use the most abhorrentblasphemy."
Challis had composed himself. "Oh! I say; that's bad," he said as heturned towards the room again.
Crashaw's head was still bowed. "And whatever may be your ownphilosophic doubts," he said, "I think you will agree with me that insuch a case as this, something should be done. To me it is horrible,most horrible."
"Couldn't you give me any details?" asked Challis.
"They are most repugnant to me," answered Crashaw.
"Quite, quite! I understand. But if you want any assistance.... Or doyou expect me to investigate?"
"I thought it my duty, as his godfather, to see to the child's spiritualwelfare," said Crashaw, ignoring the question put to him, "although heis not, now, one of my parishioners. I first went to Pym some few monthsago, but the mother interposed between me and the child. I was notpermitted to see him. It was not until a few weeks back that I methim--on the Common, alone. Of course, I recognised him at once. He isquite unmistakable."
"And then?" prompted Challis.
"I spoke to him, and he replied with, with--an abstracted air, withoutlooking at me. He has not the appearance in any way of a normal child. Imade a few ordinary remarks to him, and then I asked him if he knew hiscatechism. He replied that he did not know the word 'catechism.' I maymention that he speaks the dialect of the common people, but he has amuch larger vocabulary. His mother has taught him to read, it appears."
"He seems to have a curiously apt intelligence," interpolated Challis.
Crashaw wrung his clasped hands and put the comment on one side. "Ithen spoke to him of some of the broad principles of the Church'steaching," he continued. "He listened quietly, without interruption, andwhen I stopped, he prompted me with questions."
"One minute!" said Challis. "Tell me; what sort of questions? That ismost important."
"I do not remember precisely," returned Crashaw, "but one, I think, wasas to the sources of the Bible. I did not read anything beyond simpleand somewhat unusual curiosity into those questions, I may say.... Italked to him for some considerable time--I dare say for more than anhour...."
"No signs of idiocy, apparently, during all this?"
"I consider it less a case of idiocy than one of possession, maleficentpossession," replied Crashaw. He did not see his host's grim smile.
"Well, and the blasphemy?" prompted Challis.
"At the end of my instruction, the child, still looking away from me,shook his head and said that what I had told him was not true. I confessthat I was staggered. Possibly I lost my
temper, somewhat. I may havegrown rather warm in my speech. And at last ..." Crashaw clenched hishands and spoke in such a low voice that Challis could hardly hear him."At last he turned to me and said things which I could not possiblyrepeat, which I pray that I may never hear again from the mouth of anyliving being."
"Profanities, obscenities, er--swear-words," suggested Challis.
"Blasphemy, _blasphemy_," cried Crashaw. "Oh! I wonder that I did notinjure the child."
Challis moved over to the window again. For more than a minute there wassilence in that big, neglected-looking room. Then Crashaw's feelingsbegan to find vent in words, in a long stream of insistentasseverations, pitched on a rising note that swelled into a diapason ofindignation. He spoke of the position and power of his Church, of itsinfluence for good among the uneducated, agricultural population amongwhich he worked. He enlarged on the profound necessity for a livingreligion among the poorer classes; and on the revolutionary tendencytowards socialism, which would be encouraged if the great restrainingpower of a creed that enforced subservience to temporal power was onceshaken. And, at last, he brought his arguments to a head by saying thatthe example of a child of four years old, openly defying a minister ofthe Church, and repudiating the very conception of the Deity, was anexample which might produce a profound effect upon the minds of aslow-thinking people; that such an example might be the leaven whichwould leaven the whole lump; and that for the welfare of the wholeneighbourhood it was an instant necessity that the child should be putunder restraint, his tongue bridled, and any opportunity to proclaim hisblasphemous doctrines forcibly denied to him. Long before he hadconcluded, Crashaw was on his feet, pacing the room, declaiming, wavinghis arms.
Challis stood, unanswering, by the window. He did not seem to hear; hedid not even shrug his shoulders. Not till Crashaw had brought hisargument to a culmination, and boomed into a dramatic silence, didChallis turn and look at him.
"But you cannot confine a child in an asylum on those grounds," he said;"the law does not permit it."
"The Church is above the law," replied Crashaw.
"Not in these days," said Challis; "it is by law established!"
Crashaw began to speak again, but Challis waved him down. "Quite, quite.I see your point," he said, "but I must see this child myself. Believeme, I will see what can be done. I will, at least, try to prevent hisspreading his opinions among the yokels." He smiled grimly. "I quiteagree with you that that is a consummation which is not to be desired."
"You will see him soon?" asked Crashaw.
"To-day," returned Challis.
"And you will let me see you again, afterwards?"
"Certainly."
Crashaw still hesitated for a moment. "I might, perhaps, come with you,"he ventured.
"On no account," said Challis.
II
Gregory Lewes was astonished at the long absence of his chief; he wasmore astonished when his chief returned.
"I want you to come up with me to Pym, Lewes," said Challis; "one of mytenants has been confounding the rector of Stoke. It is a matter thatmust be attended to."
Lewes was a fair-haired, hard-working young man, with a bent for sciencein general that had not yet crystallised into any special study. He hada curious sense of humour, that proved something of an obstacle in theway of specialisation. He did not take Challis's speech seriously.
"Are you going as a magistrate?" he asked; "or is it a matter forscientific investigation?"
"Both," said Challis. "Come along!"
"Are you serious, sir?" Lewes still doubted.
"Intensely. I'll explain as we go," said Challis.
It is not more than a mile and a half from Challis Court to Pym. Thenearest way is by a cart track through the beech woods, that winds upthe hill to the Common. In winter this track is almost impassable, overboot-top in heavy mud; but the early spring had been fairly dry, andChallis chose this route.
As they walked, Challis went through the early history of Victor Stott,so far as it was known to him. "I had forgotten the child," he said; "Ithought it would die. You see, it is by way of being an extraordinaryfreak of nature. It has, or had, a curious look of intelligence. Youmust remember that when I saw it, it was only a few months old. But eventhen it conveyed in some inexplicable way a sense of power. Every onefelt it. There was Harvey Walters, for instance--he vaccinated it; Imade him confess that the child made him feel like a school-boy. Only,you understand, it had not spoken then----"
"What conveyed that sense of power?" asked Lewes.
"The way it had of looking at you, staring you out of countenance,sizing you up and rejecting you. It did that, I give you my word; it didall that at a few months old, and without the power of speech. Only, yousee, I thought it was merely a freak of some kind, some abnormality thatdisgusted one in an unanalysed way. And I thought it would die. Icertainly thought it would die. I am most eager to see this newdevelopment."
"I haven't heard. It confounded Crashaw, you say? And it cannot be morethan four or five years old now?"
"Four; four and a half," returned Challis, and then the conversation wasinterrupted by the necessity of skirting a tiny morass of wet leaf-mouldthat lay in a hollow.
"Confounded Crashaw? I should think so," Challis went on, when they hadfound firm going again. "The good man would not soil his devoted tongueby any condescension to oratio recta, but I gathered that the child hadmade light of his divine authority."
"Great Caesar!" ejaculated Lewes; "but that is immense. What did Crashawdo--shake him?"
"No; he certainly did not lay hands on him at all. His own expressionwas that he did not know how it was he did not do the child an injury.That is one of the things that interest me enormously. That power Ispoke of must have been retained. Crashaw must have been blue withanger; he could hardly repeat the story to me, he was so agitated. Itwould have surprised me less if he had told me he had murdered thechild. That I could have understood, perfectly."
"It is, of course, quite incomprehensible to me, as yet," commentedLewes.
When they came out of the woods on to the stretch of common from whichyou can see the great swelling undulations of the Hampden Hills, Challisstopped. A spear of April sunshine had pierced the load of cloud towardsthe west, and the bank of wood behind them gave shelter from the coldwind that had blown fiercely all the afternoon.
"It is a fine prospect," said Challis, with a sweep of his hand. "Isometimes feel, Lewes, that we are over-intent on our own little narrowinterests. Here are you and I, busying ourselves in an attempt to throwsome little light--a very little it must be--on some petty problems ofthe origin of our race. We are looking downwards, downwards always;digging in old muck-heaps; raking up all kinds of unsavoury rubbish toprove that we are born out of the dirt. And we have never a thought forthe future in all our work,--a future that may be glorious, who knows?Here, perhaps in this village, insignificant from most points of view,but set in a country that should teach us to raise our eyes from theground; here, in this tiny hamlet, is living a child who may become agreater than Socrates or Shakespeare, a child who may revolutionise ourconceptions of time and space. There have been great men in the past whohave done that, Lewes; there is no reason for us to doubt that stillgreater men may succeed them."
"No; there is no reason for us to doubt that," said Lewes, and theywalked on in silence towards the Stotts' cottage.
III
Challis knocked and walked in. They found Ellen Mary and her son at thetea-table.
The mother rose to her feet and dropped a respectful curtsy. The boyglanced once at Gregory Lewes and then continued his meal as if he wereunaware of any strange presence in the room.
"I'm sorry. I am afraid we are interrupting you," Challis apologised."Pray sit down, Mrs. Stott, and go on with your tea."
"Thank you, sir. I'd just finished, sir," said Ellen Mary, and remainedstanding with an air of quiet deference.
Challis took the celebrated armchair, and motioned Lewes to thewindow-sill,
the nearest available seat for him. "Please sit down, Mrs.Stott," he said, and Ellen Mary sat, apologetically.
The boy pushed his cup towards his mother, and pointed to the teapot; hemade a grunting sound to attract her attention.
"You'll excuse me, sir," murmured Ellen Mary, and she refilled the cupand passed it back to her son, who received it without anyacknowledgment. Challis and Lewes were observing the boy intently, buthe took not the least notice of their scrutiny. He discovered no traceof self-consciousness; Henry Challis and Gregory Lewes appeared to haveno place in the world of his abstraction.
The figure the child presented to his two observers was worthy ofcareful scrutiny.
At the age of four and a half years, the Wonder was bald, save for a fewstraggling wisps of reddish hair above the ears and at the base of theskull, and a weak, sparse down, of the same colour, on the top of hishead. The eyebrows, too, were not marked by any line of hair, but theeyelashes were thick, though short, and several shades darker than thehair on the skull.
The face is not so easily described. The mouth and chin were relativelysmall, overshadowed by that broad cliff of forehead, but they were firm,the chin well moulded, the lips thin and compressed. The nose wasunusual when seen in profile. There was no sign of a bony bridge, but itwas markedly curved and jutted out at a curious angle from the line ofthe face. The nostrils were wide and open. None of these featuresproduced any effect of childishness; but this effect was partly achievedby the contours of the cheeks, and by the fact that there was noindication of any lines on the face.
The eyes nearly always wore their usual expression of abstraction. Itwas very rarely that the Wonder allowed his intelligence to be exhibitedby that medium. When he did, the effect was strangely disconcerting,blinding. One received an impression of extraordinary concentration: itwas as though for an instant the boy was able to give one a glimpse ofthe wonderful force of his intellect. When he looked one in the facewith intention, and suddenly allowed one to realise, as it were, all thedominating power of his brain, one shrank into insignificance, one feltas an ignorant, intelligent man may feel when confronted with someelaborate theorem of the higher mathematics. "Is it possible that anyone can really understand these things?" such a man might think withawe, and in the same way one apprehended some vast, inconceivablepossibilities of mind-function when the Wonder looked at one with, as Ihave said, intention.
He was dressed in a little jacket-suit, and wore a linen collar; theknickerbockers, loose and badly cut, fell a little below the knees. Hisstockings were of worsted, his boots clumsy and thick-soled, thoughrelatively tiny. One had the impression always that his body was fragileand small, but as a matter of fact the body and limbs were, if anything,slightly better developed than those of the average child of four and ahalf years.
Challis had ample opportunity to make these observations at variousperiods. He began them as he sat in the Stotts' cottage. At first he didnot address the boy directly.
"I hear your son has been having a religious controversy with Mr.Crashaw," was his introduction to the object of his visit.
"Indeed, sir!" Plainly this was not news to Mrs. Stott.
"Your son told you?" suggested Challis.
"Oh! no, sir, 'e never told me," replied Mrs. Stott, "'twas Mr. Crashaw.'E's been 'ere several times lately."
Challis looked sharply at the boy, but he gave no sign that he heardwhat was passing.
"Yes; Mr. Crashaw seems rather upset about it."
"I'm sorry, sir, but----"
"Yes; speak plainly," prompted Challis. "I assure you that you will haveno cause to regret any confidence you may make to me."
"I can't see as it's any business of Mr. Crashaw's, sir, if you'llforgive me for sayin' so."
"He has been worrying you?"
"'E 'as, sir, but 'e ..." she glanced at her son--she laid a stress onthe pronoun always when she spoke of him that differentiated itssignificance--"'e 'asn't seen Mr. Crashaw again, sir."
Challis turned to the boy. "You are not interested in Mr. Crashaw, Isuppose?" he asked.
The boy took no notice of the question.
Challis was piqued. If this extraordinary child really had anintelligence, surely it must be possible to appeal to that intelligencein some way. He made another effort, addressing Mrs. Stott.
"I think we must forgive Mr. Crashaw, you know, Mrs. Stott. As Iunderstand it, your boy at the age of four years and a half hasdefied--his cloth, if I may say so." He paused, and as he received noanswer, continued: "But I hope that matter may be easily arranged."
"Thank you, sir," said Mrs. Stott. "It's very kind of you. I'm sure, I'mgreatly obliged to you, sir."
"That's only one reason of my visit to you, however," Challis hesitated."I've been wondering whether I might not be able to help you and yourson in some other way. I understand that he has unusual power of--ofintelligence."
"Indeed 'e 'as, sir," responded Mrs. Stott.
"And he can read, can't he?"
"I've learned 'im what I could, sir: it isn't much."
"Well, perhaps I could lend him a few books."
Challis made a significant pause, and again he looked at the boy; but asthere was no response, he continued: "Tell me what he has read."
"We've no books, sir, and we never 'ardly see a paper now. All we 'avein the 'ouse is a Bible and two copies of Lillywhite's cricket annual asmy 'usband left be'ind."
Challis smiled. "Has he read those?" he asked.
"The Bible 'e 'as, I believe," replied Mrs. Stott.
It was a conversation curious in its impersonality. Challis wasconscious of the anomaly that he was speaking in the boy's presence,crediting him with a remarkable intelligence, and yet addressing afrankly ignorant woman as though the boy was not in the room. Yet howcould he break that deliberate silence? It seemed to him as though theremust, after all, be some mistake; yet how account for Crashaw's story ifthe boy were indeed an idiot?
With a slight show of temper he turned to the Wonder.
"Do you want to read?" he asked. "I have between forty and fiftythousand books in my library. I think it possible that you might findone or two which would interest you."
The Wonder lifted his hand as though to ask for silence. For a minute,perhaps, no one spoke. All waited, expectant; Challis and Lewes withintent eyes fixed on the detached expression of the child's face, EllenMary with bent head. It was a strange, yet very logical question thatcame at last:
"What should I learn out of all them books?" asked the Wonder. He didnot look at Challis as he spoke.
IV
Challis drew a deep breath and turned towards Lewes. "A difficultquestion, that, Lewes," he said.
Lewes lifted his eyebrows and pulled at his fair moustache. "If you takethe question literally," he muttered.
"You might learn--the essential part ... of all the knowledge that hasbeen ... discovered by mankind," said Challis. He phrased his sentencecarefully, as though he were afraid of being trapped.
"Should I learn what I am?" asked the Wonder.
Challis understood the question in its metaphysical acceptation. He hadthe sense of a powerful but undirected intelligence working from thesimple premisses of experience; of a cloistered mind that had functionedprofoundly; a mind unbound by the tradition of all the speculations anddiscoveries of man, the essential conclusions of which were contained inthat library at Challis Court.
"No!" said Challis, after a perceptible interval, "that you will notlearn from any books in my possession, but you will find grounds forspeculation."
"Grounds for speculation?" questioned the Wonder. He repeated the wordsquite clearly.
"Material--matter from which you can--er--formulate theories of yourown," explained Challis.
The Wonder shook his head. It was evident that Challis's sentenceconveyed little or no meaning to him.
He got down from his chair and took up an old cricket cap of hisfather's, a cap which his mother had let out by the addition of anothergore of cloth that
did not match the original material. He pulled thiscap carefully over his bald head, and then made for the door.
At the threshold the strange child paused, and without looking at anyone present said: "I'll coom to your library," and went out.
Challis joined Lewes at the window, and they watched the boy make hisdeliberate way along the garden path and up the lane towards the fieldsbeyond.
"You let him go out by himself?" asked Challis.
"He likes to be in the air, sir," replied Ellen Mary.
"I suppose you have to let him go his own way?"
"Oh! yes, sir."
"I will send the governess cart up for him to-morrow morning," saidChallis, "at ten o'clock. That is, of course, if you have no objectionto his coming."
"'E said 'e'd coom, sir," replied Ellen Mary. Her tone implied thatthere was no appeal possible against her son's statement of his wishes.
V
"His methods do not lack terseness," remarked Lewes, when he and Challiswere out of earshot of the cottage.
"His methods and manners are damnable," said Challis, "but----"
"You were going to say?" prompted Lewes.
"Well, what is your opinion?"
"I am not convinced, as yet," said Lewes.
"Oh, surely," expostulated Challis.
"Not from objective, personal evidence. Let us put Crashaw out of ourminds for the moment."
"Very well; go on, state your case."
"He has, so far, made four remarks in our presence," said Lewes,gesticulating with his walking stick. "Two of them can be neglected; hisrepetition of your words, which he did not understand, and hiscondescending promise to study your library."
"Yes; I'm with you, so far."
"Now, putting aside the preconception with which we entered the cottage,was there really anything in the other two remarks? Were they not thetype of simple, unreasoning questions which one may often hear from themouth of a child of that age? 'What shall I learn from your books?'Well, it is the natural question of the ignorant child, who has noconception of the contents of books, no experience which would furnishmaterial for his imagination."
"Well?"
"The second remark is more explicable still. It is a remark we all makein childhood, in some form or another. I remember quite well at the ageof six or seven asking my mother: 'Which is me, my soul or my body?' Iwas brought up on the Church catechism. But you at once accepted thesequestions--which, I maintain, were questions possible in the mouth of asimple, ignorant child--in some deep, metaphysical acceptation. Don'tyou think, sir, we should wait for further evidence before we attributeany phenomenal intelligence to this child?"
"Quite the right attitude to take, Lewes--the scientific attitude,"replied Challis. "Let's go by the lane," he added, as they reached theentrance to the wood.
For some few minutes they walked in silence; Challis with his head down,his heavy shoulders humped. His hands were clasped behind him, dragginghis stick as it were a tail, which he occasionally cocked. He walkedwith a little stumble now and again, his eyes on the ground. Lewesstrode with a sure foot, his head up, and he slashed at the tangle oflast year's growth on the bank whenever he passed some tempting butt forthe sword-play of his stick.
"Do you think, then," said Challis at last, "that much of theatmosphere--you must have marked the atmosphere--of the child'spersonality, was a creation of our own minds, due to ourpreconceptions?"
"Yes, I think so," Lewes replied, a touch of defiance in his tone.
"Isn't that what you _want_ to believe?" asked Challis.
Lewes hit at a flag of dead bracken and missed. "You mean...?" heprevaricated.
"I mean that that is a much stronger influence than any preconception,my dear Lewes. I'm no pragmatist, as you know; but there can be no doubtthat with the majority of us the wish to believe a thing is trueconstitutes the truth of that thing for us. And that is, in my opinion,the wrong attitude for either scientist or philosopher. Now, in the casewe are discussing, I suppose at bottom I should like to agree with you.One does not like to feel that a child of four and a half has greaterintellectual powers than oneself. Candidly, I do not like it at all."
"Of course not! But I can't think that----"
"You can if you try; you would at once if you wished to," returnedChallis, anticipating the completion of Lewes's sentence.
"I'll admit that there are some remarkable facts in the case of thischild," said Lewes, "but I do not see why we should, as yet, take thewhole proposition for granted."
"No! I am with you there," returned Challis. And no more was said untilthey were nearly home.
Just before they turned into the drive, however, Challis stopped. "Doyou know, Lewes," he said, "I am not sure that I am doing a wise thingin bringing that child here!"
Lewes did not understand. "No, sir? Why not?" he asked.
"Why, think of the possibilities of that child, if he has all the powersI credit him with," said Challis. "Think of his possibilities fororiginal thought if he is kept away from all the traditions of thisfutile learning." He waved an arm in the direction of the elongatedchapel.
"Oh! but surely," remonstrated Lewes, "that is a necessary groundwork.Knowledge is built up step by step."
"Is it? I wonder. I sometimes doubt," said Challis. "Yes, I sometimesdoubt whether we have ever learned anything at all that is worthknowing. And, perhaps, this child, if he were kept away from books....However, the thing is done now, and in any case he would never have beenable to dodge the School attendance officer."