She shook her head. "I haven't time. And I've known nothing better."
She took his kit-bag from the dog-cart, and before he could stop her she had carried it upstairs to his room.
"There is nothing better," John Dale said dreamily. And he linked his arm affectionately through Rupert's. "Well, my boy, you needn't say anything, I see by your face that you've passed your examination. The world is at your feet now to conquer. You're going to do great things, eh?"
Rupert gave a quick glance at Despard. But the latter merely winked, then, turning on his heel, entered the farm. Rupert heard him mount the stairs in search of Marjorie.
Rupert squared his shoulders and looked his father full in the face. "I'm sorry, guv'nor, but you must have the truth. I've failed again."
John Allen Dale winced as if some one had struck him a blow. The strong, determined jaws met tightly, but he said nothing.
"I'm going up again in November," Rupert continued. "And I know I shall pass. It's not an idle boast, guv'nor. I can, and I will."
The old man laid his hands on the young man's shoulders. He spoke bravely and proudly, yet there was a tremor in his voice:
"Rupert, lad, I know you've done your best, and I'm not blaming you. It's a severe blow because—well, you'd better know now—the money's come to an end! I've pinched and screwed, gladly; but the savings of the last fifty years have all gone. They were little enough. The farm doesn't raise enough to keep us in food and clothes. I've even had to raise money and mortgage the old place. I couldn't pay your fees for the examination again, much less your board and lodging in London."
"I know," Rupert replied gently, though he had not dreamed it was as bad as that. And once again remorse seized him. Once again he wondered what he would have done if it had not been for Ruby Strode.