One morning, at breakfast, Hubert opened a letter and made a sudden exclamation; and in answer to Vera’s vehement inquiry said, “It seems that the great millionaire swell, Pettifer—is that his name?”
“Oh, yes, he was at Rock Quay.”
“Well, he went to see St. Kenelm’s, fell in love with the ceiling, and offered Pratt and Pavis any sum they like to decorate a huge new hall he is building in the same style. So they write to propose to me to come and do it, with a promise of future work, at any terms I like to ask.”
“Oh! but that’s jolly,” cried Vera. “Can’t you?”
“No,” he said; “this is immediate, and I have two churches, reredos and walls, on my hands, enough to last me all the year. Nor could I throw over Eccles and Beamster.”
“Is there an agreement with them?” asked Magdalen.
“Not regularly; but Mr. Eccles has been very kind to me, and promised me employment for four years to come; in fact, he has made engagements on that understanding.”
“I see,” said Magdalen. “You could not break with them.”
“Certainly not. Nor do I entirely like the line of this other house. It is a good deal more secular.”
“And you have dedicated your talents to the Church!” cried Paulina.