He replied: "I am not tired. I have something to ask you first, Aunt Maggie;" and after a pause he went on: "Aunt Maggie, I was telling you this afternoon that I thought I ought to be doing something. Well, more than that I thought I ought to be doing something, and more than merely telling you—because I know I was in a great state about it and went off in a great state."
She answered, "Yes, Percival?"
"You said there was plenty of time for that."
"Yes, Percival."
"There isn't, Aunt Maggie." And he went on quickly: "there isn't plenty of time to think about what I am going to do. I am not a boy any longer. Even if I started to-morrow I should be starting late. Every one at my age is doing something."
His tone was firm and quiet but was kind. She said that which made it take a harder note.
"Percival, you need only wait," she said, "till you are twenty-one."
She saw his face darken in a change as swift and chill as sudden shadow along the sea. "Oh, that!" he cried. "That! I don't want to hear that any more or ever again! Is that all you have for me?"
She clasped and unclasped her hands on the table before her. He waited several moments for her answer. Then he said: "And what am I to do till then?"
She told him: "Only wait with me, Percival."