make him independent, as if they had felt themselves not good enough for

him. They passed him over to the new members of their circle very much

as if wishing to force some charity of adoption on so free an agent and

get rid of their own charge. They were delighted when they saw Morgan

take so to his kind playfellow, and could think of no higher praise for

the young man. It was strange how they contrived to reconcile the

appearance, and indeed the essential fact, of adoring the child with

their eagerness to wash their hands of him. Did they want to get rid of

him before he should find them out? Pemberton was finding them out month

by month. The boy’s fond family, however this might be, turned their

backs with exaggerated delicacy, as if to avoid the reproach of

interfering. Seeing in time how little he had in common with them—it was

by _them_ he first observed it; they proclaimed it with complete

humility—his companion was moved to speculate on the mysteries of

transmission, the far jumps of heredity. Where his detachment from most

of the things they represented had come from was more than an observer

could say—it certainly had burrowed under two or three generations.

As for Pemberton’s own estimate of his pupil, it was a good while before

he got the point of view, so little had he been prepared for it by the

smug young barbarians to whom the tradition of tutorship, as hitherto

revealed to him, had been adjusted. Morgan was scrappy and surprising,

deficient in many properties supposed common to the genus and abounding

in others that were the portion only of the supernaturally clever. One

day his friend made a great stride: it cleared up the question to

perceive that Morgan _was_ supernaturally clever and that, though the

formula was temporarily meagre, this would be the only assumption on

which one could successfully deal with him. He had the general quality

of a child for whom life had not been simplified by school, a kind of

homebred sensibility which might have been as bad for himself but was

charming for others, and a whole range of refinement and

perception—little musical vibrations as taking as picked-up airs—begotten

by wandering about Europe at the tail of his migratory tribe. This might

not have been an education to recommend in advance, but its results with

so special a subject were as appreciable as the marks on a piece of fine

porcelain. There was at the same time in him a small strain of stoicism,

doubtless the fruit of having had to begin early to bear pain, which

counted for pluck and made it of less consequence that he might have been

thought at school rather a polyglot little beast. Pemberton indeed

quickly found himself rejoicing that school was out of the question: in

any million of boys it was probably good for all but one, and Morgan was

that millionth. It would have made him comparative and superior—it might

have made him really require kicking. Pemberton would try to be school

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