“Yes, papa, it was quite right,” said Margaret, recovering herself; “it has spared Richard a great deal.”
“But are we to have Mr. Wilmot?” said Ethel. “Think of our not having heard!”
“Ay. If they would not have had Wilmot, or a man of his calibre, perhaps I might have let them offer it to Richard. I almost wish I had. With help, and Ethel—”
“No, no, papa,” said Margaret. “You are making me angry with myself for my folly. It is much better for Richard himself, and for us all, as well as the town. Think how long we have wished for Mr. Wilmot!”
“He will be in time for the opening of Cocksmoor school!” cried Ethel. “How did you manage it?”
“I did not manage at all,” said the doctor. “I told them exactly my mind, that Richard was not old enough for such arduous work; and though no words could tell how obliged I was, if they asked me who was the best man for it I knew, I should say Edward Wilmot, and I thought he deserved something from us, for the work he did gratis, when he was second master. Tomkins growled a little, but, fortunately, no one was prepared with another proposal, so they all came round, and the mayor is to write by this evening’s post, and so shall I. If we could only have given Richard a dozen more years!”
Margaret was somewhat comforted to find that the sacrifice had cost her father a good deal; she was always slightly jealous for Richard, and now that Alan was gone, she clung to him more than ever. His soft calm manner supported her more than any other human comforter, and she always yearned after him when absent, more than for all the other brothers; but her father’s decision had been too high-minded for her to dare to wish it recalled, and she could not but own that Richard would have had to undergo more toil and annoyance than perhaps his health would have endured.
Flora had discontinued comments to her sisters on her father’s proceedings, finding that observations mortified Margaret, and did not tend to peace with Ethel; but she told her husband that she did not regret it much, for Richard would have exhausted his own income, and his father’s likewise, in paying curates, and raising funds for charities. She scarcely expected Mr. Edward Wilmot to accept the offer, aware as he was, of the many disadvantages he should have to contend with, and unsuccessful as he had been in dealing with the Ladies’ Committee.
However, Mr. Wilmot signified his thankful acceptance, and, in due time, his familiar tap was heard at the drawing-room door, at tea-time, as if he had just returned after the holidays. He was most gladly welcomed, and soon was installed in his own place, with his goddaughter, Mary, blushing with pleasure at pouring out his coffee.
“Well, Ethel, how is Cocksmoor? How like old times!”