“George,” said Mrs. Gregory to her husband, “that new importation is a nice boy; Milly Milward has known him since he was in blouses; he has had rather hard luck; his father was swindled out of a comfortable fortune, and he has to turn to and earn his bread.”
“What we all do!” growled George.
“Yes, but some ways are so much more agreeable than others. His profession was to have been along the path of glory.”
“What is that?”
“Why, the Army, of course.”
“And now his profession is checking inventories and cargoes. As he is new to the business, he will have his hands fairly full for the next few months; so, my dear Polly, don’t turn his head just yet.”
“As if I ever turned anybody’s head.”
“I cannot answer for others, but you certainly turned mine.”
“Ah, but that was twelve years ago; I’m afraid my fascinations have faded since then. Joking apart, George, Milly has left me two legacies—two protégés to befriend. Shafto is one—I am to invite him to tea, and talk to him with wisdom, and win his complete and entire confidence.”
“Oh! and the other?”