“That’s a sentiment worthy of Joe,” said Babie. “You used to know him in private life.”
“Always with a smack of the dominie. Moreover, he is so young. I thought him as ancient as Dr. Lucas, and, behold, he is a brisk youth, without a grey hair.”
“He always was young-looking,” said his mother. “I am glad you saw him. I wish he were not so far off.”
“Well then, mother, here’s an invitation from Mahomet to the mountain, which Mahomet is too shy to make in person. That house which he and his sister bought at his English Sorrento has just been vacated by his married curate, and he wants you to come and keep it warm till he begins a convalescent home there next spring.”
“How very kind!”
“Oh! mother, you couldn’t,” burst out Armine in consternation.
“Would it be an expense or loss to him, Jock?” said his mother, considering.
“I should say not, unless he be an extremely accomplished dissembler. If it eased your mind, no doubt he would consent to your paying the rates and taxes.”
“But, mother,” again implored Armine, “you said you would not force me to go to Madeira, with the Evelyns!”
“Are they going to Madeira?” exclaimed Jock, thunderstruck.