“Indeed, I thought you were to have a staff appointment.”
“It would not pay, sir; and that is a consideration.”
“Then have you anything else in view?”
“The hospitals,” said Jock, with a poor effort to seem diverted; “the other form of slaughter.” Then as his friend looked at him with concerned and startled eyes, he added, “Unless there were some extraordinary chance of loot. You see the pagoda tree is shaken bare, and I could do no more than keep myself and have nothing for my mother, and I am afraid she will need it. It is a chance whether Allen, at his age, or Armine, with his health, can do much, and some one must stay and get remunerative work.”
“Is not the training costly?”
“Her Majesty owes me something. Luckily I got my commission by purchase just in time, and I shall receive compensation enough to carry me through my studies. We shall be all together with Friar Brownlow, who takes the same line in the old house in Bloomsbury, where we were all born. That she really does look forward to.”
“I should think so, with you to look after her,” said Mr. Ogilvie heartily.
“Only she can’t get into it till Lady Day. And I wanted to ask you, Mr. Ogilvie, do you know anything about expenses down at your place? What would tolerable lodgings be likely to come to, rent of rooms, I mean, for my mother and the two young ones. Armie has not wintered in England since that Swiss adventure of ours, and I suppose St. Cradocke’s would be as good a place for him as any.”
“I had a proposition to make, Brownlow. My sister and I invested in a house at St. Cradocke’s when I was curate there, and she meant to retire to me when she had finished Barbara. My married curate is leaving it next week, when I go home. The single ones live in the rectory with me, and I think of making it a convalescent home; but this can’t be begun for some months, as the lady who is to be at the head will not be at liberty. Do you think your mother would do me the favour to occupy it? It is furnished, and my housekeeper would see it made comfortable for her. Do you think you could make the notion acceptable to her?” he said, colouring like a lad, and stuttering in his eagerness.
“It would be a huge relief,” exclaimed Jock. “Thank you, Mr. Ogilvie. Belforest has come to be like a prison to her, and it will be everything to have Armine in a warm place among reasonable people.”