"Not still hankering after a lighthouse?" Uncle Henry asked, and one
seemed to hear his words snapping like dry twigs beneath the heavy tread
of his mind.
"I'm not hankering after anything," Mark replied sullenly.
"But you're looking forward to Mr. Hitchcock's office?" his uncle
proceeded.
Mark grunted an assent in order to be left alone, and the entrance of
Mr. Palmer who always had supper with his headmaster and employer on
Sunday evening, brought the conversation to a close.
At supper Mr. Palmer asked suddenly if the headmaster wanted Mark to go
into the Confirmation Class this term.
"No thanks," said Mark.
Uncle Henry raised his eyebrows.
"I fancy that is for me to decide."
"Neither my father nor my mother nor my grandfather would have wanted me
to be confirmed against my will," Mark declared. He was angry without
knowing his reasons, angry in response to some impulse of the existence
of which he had been unaware until he began to speak. He only knew that
if he surrendered on this point he should never be able to act for
himself again.
"Are you suggesting that you should never be confirmed?" his uncle
required.
"I'm not suggesting anything," said Mark. "But I can remember my
father's saying once that boys ought to be confirmed before they are
thirteen.
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