“I should hope to act the other way,” said Jock.
“Get your own head above water first,” said Bobus. “Here’s some good advice gratis, though I’ve no expectation of your taking it. Don’t go in for study in the old quarters! Go to Edinburgh or Paris or anywhere you please, but cut the connection, or you’ll never be rid of loafers for life. Wherever mother is, all the rest will gravitate. Mark me, Allen is spoilt for anything but a walking gentleman, Armine will never be good for work, and how many years do you give Janet’s Athenian to come to grief in? Then will they return to the domestic hearth with a band of small Grecians, while Dr. Lucas Brownlow is reduced to a rotifer or wheel animal, circulating in a trap collecting supplies, with ‘sic vos non vobis’ for his motto.”
Jock looked startled. “How if there be no such rotifer?” he said. “You don’t really think there will be nothing to depend when we are both gone?”
“When?”
“Yes, I’ve a chance of getting on Cameron’s staff in India.”
“Oh, that’s all right, old fellow! Why, you’ll be my next neighbour.”
“But about mother? You don’t seriously think Ali and Armie will be nothing but dead weights on her?”
“Only as long as there’s anybody to hold them up”, said Bobus, perceiving that his picture had taken an effect the reverse of what he intended. “They have no lack of brains, and are quite able to shift for themselves and mother too, if only they have to do it, even if she were a pauper, which she isn’t.”
But it was with a less lightsome heart that Jock went to his quarters to prepare for a fancy ball, where he expected to meet Elvira, though whether he should approach her or not would depend on her own caprice.
It was a very splendid affair. A whole back garden, had been transformed into a vast pavilion, containing an Armida’s garden, whose masses of ferns and piles of gorgeous flowers made delightful nooks for strangers who left the glare of the dancing-room, and the quaint dresses harmonised with the magic of the gaslight and the strange forms of the exotics.