'Ask Mary, Tom. She'll know. Or, stay—I'll ask her for you—if you like.'
'Oh, that's all right. I just wanted to know,' with an assumed indifference that barely concealed the tremor in the voice.
'I suppose,' came a moment later, 'a Member of Parliament is a grander thing than a doctor, is it?'
'That depends,' replied his father, 'upon the man himself. Some M.P.'s vote as they're told, and never open their mouths in the House. Some doctors, again——'
But the boy interrupted him. He quite understood the point.
'It's fine to be an engineer, though, isn't it?' he asked. 'It's a real profession?'
'The world couldn't get along without them, or the Government either. It's a most important profession indeed.'
Tom, playing idly with the swinging tassel of the window-blind, asked one more question. His voice and manner were admirably under control, but there was a gulp, and his father heard and noted it.
'Shall I have—shall I be rich enough—to marry—some day?'
Dr. Kelverdon crossed the room and put his hand on his son's shoulder, but did not try to make him show his face. 'Yes,' he said quietly, 'you will, my boy—when the time comes.' He paused a moment, then added: 'But money will not make you a distinguished man, whereas if you become a famous engineer, you'll have money of your own and—any nice girl would be proud to have you.'