"It is a recreation to him," said Mrs. Gordon.
"Yes, but think what he might do, if he would give up this trade of doctoring. Leslie's mother, Miss Desmond, is of the old school. She thinks that neither doctors nor lawyers can be gentlemen. And bitter was the blow when her favourite son persisted in taking up such a 'degrading profession,' as she terms it."
"Would she have preferred him to be a musician?" asked Jean, with a smile.
"Good gracious, no! The Army, Navy, or Church are the only three professions for gentlemen, she always says. I haven't lived very long, but I know one or two men in those favoured positions that are anything but ornaments to them. You will have to go and see Mrs. Fergusson. She is an amusing old creation, and is cleverer than most people."
By and by, Mrs. Gordon went upstairs to visit her little girl for the last time that night.
Meta looked across at Jean.
"Well," she said, "are you frightened of my aunt?"
"No. Why should I be? I feel sorry for her. Is she always so cold and grave?"
"Always since—since the accident."
Jean looked questioningly at her.