“But tell me, Anne, is it true that poor Master Oliver Oakshott is dead of smallpox?”
“Quite true. Poor young gentleman, he was to have married that cousin of his mother’s, Mistress Martha Browning, living at Emsworth. She came on a visit, and they think she brought the infection, for she sickened at once, and though she had it favourably, is much disfigured. Master Oliver caught it and died in three days, and all the house were down with it. They say poor Mrs. Oakshott forgot her ailments and went to and fro among them all. My mother would have gone to help in their need if she had been as well as she used to be.”
“How is it with the other son? He was a personable youth enough. I saw him at the ship launch in the spring, and thought both lads would fain have staid for the dance on board but for their grim old father.”
“You saw Robert, but he is not the elder.”
“What? Is that shocking impish urchin whom we used to call Riquet with the tuft, older than he?”
“Certainly he is. He writes from time to time to my mother, and seems to be doing well with his uncle.”
“I cannot believe he would come to good. Do you remember his sending my brother and cousin adrift in the boat?”
“I think that was in great part the fault of your cousin for mocking and tormenting him.”
“Sedley Archfield was a bad boy! There’s no denying that. I am afraid he had good reason for running away from college.”
“Have you heard of him since?”