'Lance would never be like Edgar!' exclaimed Wilmet; 'as if Edgar ever thought of doing anything so unselfish in his life!'
'O Wilmet! indeed he thought!' cried Cherry.
'Yes, but always of five or six years hence!' said Wilmet.
'Lance is very like Edgar,' said Felix. 'He has what I believe belongs to the artist temperament; and that he is the bravest, the most uncomplaining little fellow I ever came across, and probably would never break off what he had begun, makes me the more anxious not to let this access of generosity—ay, and tedium—lead to taking any decided step while he is so young.'
'When you come to artist temperament, I don't understand,' said Wilmet. 'Lance doesn't even draw anything like Cherry or Edgar—much good does that do! and as to his music, it would not be much of a living.'
'I believe he thinks that the alternative,' said John.
'For goodness' sake!' cried Alda, 'he doesn't want to get taken on in London! To have him singing and fiddling in public would be worse than anything. You put that out of his head, I hope, John. Even if he changed his name—'
'It never was in his head,' said John. 'He never thought of anything but his old line—Cathedral music: and the sacrifice to him is of that, not of the chance of the University.'
'That's not so bad,' said Alda, 'because it is a great chance whether any one ever heard of it.'
'But I doubt if it be a very desirable life, as things are at present constituted,' said John. 'I am not sure that it is not better to give the musical talent freely for that service, than to make it one's trade and livelihood.'