“I meant,” said Babie, “a letter he wrote for the chance of Jock’s getting it before he sailed. There’s the assistant lectureship vacant, and the Professor would not like anyone so much. It is his own appointment, not an election matter, and he meant to keep it open till he could get an answer from Jock.”
“When was this?” asked Jock, flushing with eagerness.
“The 20th. Dr. Medlicott came down to Fordham for Sunday, to ask if it was worth while to telegraph, or if I thought you would be well enough. It is not much of a salary, but it is a step, and Dr. Medlicott knows they would put you on the staff of the hospital, and then you are open to anything.”
Jock drew a long breath and looked at his mother. “The very thing I’ve wished,” he said.
“Exactly. Must he answer at once?”
“The Professor would like a telegram, yes or no, at once.”
“Then, you wedded Monk, will you add to your favours by telegraphing for me?”
“Yes. Of course it is ‘Yes’. How soon should you have to begin, I wonder?”
“Oh, I’m quite cheeky enough for that sort of work. If you’ll telegraph, I’ll write by to-night’s post.”
“I’ll go and do the telegraphing,” said Cecil; “I don’t trust those two.”