“But what does it all mean?” asked their mother. “What have you been doing to the Evelyns?”
“Mother, I have gone back to our old programme,” said Jock. “I have sent in my papers; I said nothing to you, for I thought you would only vex yourself.”
“Oh, Jock!” she said, overpowered; “I should never have let you!”
“No, mother, dear, I knew that, so I didn’t ask you.”
“You undutiful person!” but she held out her arm, and as he came to her, she leant her head against him, sobbing a little sob of infinite relief, as though fortitude found it much pleasanter to have a living column.
“You’ve done it?” said Armine.
“You will see it gazetted in a day or two.”
“Then it is all over,” cried Babie, again in tears; “all our dreams of honour, and knighthood, and wounds, and glorious things!”
“You can always have the satisfaction of believing I should have got them,” said Jock, but there was a quiver in his voice, and a thrill through his whole frame that showed his mother that it was very sore with him, and she hastened to let him subside into a chair while she asked if it was far to the end of the canto, and as Babie was past reading, she took the book and finished it herself. Nobody had much notion of the sense, but the cadence was soothing, and all were composed by the time the prayer-bell rang.
“Come to my dressing-room presently,” she said to Lucas, as he lighted her candle for her.