“Well, well; but tell me.”
“This is what I was thinking. I don’t think I can go back to Oxford after Christmas. It is not fit to leave you while papa is so disabled.”
“Oh no, he could not get on at all. I heard him tell Mr. Wilmot the other day that you were his right hand.”
Ethel was glad she had repeated this, for there was a deepening colour and smiling glow of pleasure on her brother’s face, such as she had seldom seen on his delicate, but somewhat impassive features.
“He is very kind!” he said warmly. “No, I am sure I cannot be spared till he is better able to use his arm, and I don’t see any chance of that just yet. Then if I stay at home, Friday is always at my own disposal, while papa is at the hospital meeting.”
“Yes, yes, and we could go to Cocksmoor, and set up a school. How delightful!”
“I don’t think you would find it quite so delightful as you fancy,” said Richard; “the children will be very wild and ignorant, and you don’t like that at the National School.”
“Oh, but they are in such need, besides there will be no Mrs. Ledwich over me. It is just right—I shan’t mind anything. You are a capital Ritchie, for having thought of it!”
“I don’t think—if I am ever to be what I wish, that is, if I can get through at Oxford—I don’t think it can be wrong to begin this, if Mr. Ramsden does not object.”
“Oh, Mr. Ramsden never objects to anything.”