“I should have thought you would respect curing more than killing.”
“If there were not a whole bag of stones about your neck.”
“Magnets,” said Jock.
“That’s just it. All the heavier.”
The brothers went upstairs together, and Jock was kept waiting a little while in the dressing-room, till his mother came out, shutting the door on Barbara.
“The poor Infanta!” she said. “She is breaking her foolish little heart over something she said to you. ‘As bad as the woman in the “Black Brunswicker,”’ she says, only she didn’t mean it. Was it so, Jock?”
“I had pretty well made up my mind before. Mother, are you vexed that I did not tell you?”
“You spared me much. Your uncle would never have consented. But oh, Jock! I’m not a Spartan mother. My heart will bound.”
“My colonel said it was right,” said Jock; “so did Cameron, and even Sir James, though he did not like it.”
“With such an array of old soldiers on our side we may let the young ladies rage,” said his mother, but she checked her mirth on seeing how far from a joke their indignation was to her son.