Well, yesterday he came, and said he wanted to see the boy.
Len was in bed--he's in bed still, though his cold's much better and Mr.Wrybolt would go up to his room, and talk to him.

When he came down again, you know I'm going to tell you the whole truth, and of course you won't mind it--he began talking in a very nasty way--he _has_ a nasty way when he likes.

'Look here, Mrs.Woolstan,' he said, 'Leonard doesn't seem to me to be doing well at all.

I asked him one or two questions in simple arithmetic, and he couldn't answer.' 'Well,' I said, 'for one thing Len isn't well, and it isn't the right time to examine a boy; and then arithmetic isn't his subject; he hasn't that kind of mind.' But he wouldn't listen, and the next thing he said was still nastier.

'Do you know,' he said, 'that the boy is being taught _atheism_ ?'--Well, what could I answer?
I got rather angry, and said that Len's religious teaching was my own affair, and I couldn't see what _he_ had to do with it; and besides, that Len _wasn't_ being taught atheism, but that people who were not in the habit of thinking Philosophically couldn't be expected to understand such things.