“All right,” he said, “I didn’t expect to find you in, but I thought I would leave a note for the chance. I’ve heard of the very identical thing to suit you, Ali, my boy.”
“Indeed,” said Allen, not prepared with gratitude for his younger brother’s patronage.
“I met Bulstrode at Balliol last night, and he asked if I knew of any one (a perfect gentleman he must be, that matters more than scholarship) who would take a tutorship in a Hungarian count’s family. Two little boys, who live like princes, tutor the same, salary anything you like to ask. It is somewhere in the mountains, a feudal castle, with capital sport.”
“Wolves and bears,” cried Jock, starting up with his old boyish animation. “If I wasn’t going pig-sticking in India, what wouldn’t I give for such a chance. The tutor will teach the young ideas how to shoot, of course.”
“Of course,” said Bobus. “The Count is a diplomate, and there’s not a bad chance of making oneself useful, and getting on in that line. I should have jumped at it, if I hadn’t got the Japs on my hands.”
“Yes, you,” said Allen languidly.
“Well, you can do quite as well for a thing like this,” said Bobus, “or better, as far as looking the gentleman goes. In fact, I suspect as much classics as Mother Carey taught us at home would serve their countships’ turn. Here’s the address. You had better write by the first post to-morrow, for one or two others are rising at it; but Bulstrode said he would wait to hear from you. Here’s the letter with all the details.”
“Thank you. You seem to take a good deal for granted,” said Allen, not moving a finger towards the letter.
“You won’t have it?”
“I have neither spirits nor inclination for turning bear-leader, and it is not a position I wish to undertake.”