“It's a hasty summons, my poor Tony—”
“It might be worse, mother. What would we say to it if it were, 'Come up and be examined'? I think I 'm a good-tempered fellow; but I declare to you frankly, if one of those 'Dons' were to put a question to me that I could n't answer,—and I 'm afraid it would not be easy to put any other,—I 'd find it very hard not to knock him down! I mean, of course, mother, if he did it offensively, with a chuckle over my ignorance, or something that seemed to say, 'There 's a blockhead, if ever there was one!' I know I couldn't help it!”
“Oh, Tony, Tony!” said she, deprecatingly.
“Yes, it's all very well to say Tony, Tony; but here's how it is. It would be 'all up' with me. It would be by that time decided that I was good for nothing, and to be turned back. The moment would be a triumphant one for the fellow that 'plucked' me,—it always is, I 'm told,—but I 'll be shot if it should be all triumph to him!”
“I won't believe this of you, Tony,” said she, gravely. “It 's not like your father, sir!”
“Then I 'd not do it, mother,—at least, if I could help it,” said he, growing very red. “I say, mother, is it too late to go up to the Abbey and bid. Sir Arthur good-bye? Alice asked me to do it, and I promised her.”
“Well, Tony, I don't know how you feel about these things now, but there was a time that you never thought much what hour of the day or night it was when you went there.”
“It used to be so!” said he, thoughtfully; and then added, “but I 'll go, at all events, mother; but I 'll not be long away, for I must have a talk with you before bedtime.”
“I have a note written to Sir Arthur here; will you just give it to him, Tony, or leave it for him when you 're coming away, for it wants no answer?”
“All right, mother; don't take tea till I come back, and I 'll do my best to come soon.”