'This path always reminds me of this very matter,' he said; 'I talked it over with Meta here, on the way to lay the foundation-stone at Cocksmoor, till Norman overtook us and monopolized her for good, poor little thing. She was all in the high romantic strain, making a sort of knight hospitaller of my father. I wonder what she is like by this time, and how much of that she has left.'
'Of the high romantic strain? I should think it was as much as ever the salt of life to her. Her last letter described her contrivances to make a knapsack for Norman on his visitation tour. Oh, fancy old June a venerable archdeacon!'
'You don't think a colonial archdeacon is like one of your great portly swells in a shovel hat.'
'It must be something remarkable that made Norman portly. But as for the shovel hat, Mrs. Meta has insisted on having it sent out. I was going to tell you that she says, "I do like such a good tough bit of stitchery, to fit my knight out for the cause."'
'Marriage and distance have not frozen up her effusions.'
'No; when people carry souls in their pens, they are worth a great deal more, if they are to go to a distance.'
Ah! by the bye, I suppose Cheviot has put a fresh lock on Mary's writing-case.'
'I suspect some of Mary's correspondence will devolve on me. Harry has asked me already.'
'I wished you had mentioned more about the letters of late. Leonard wanted to know more than I could tell him.'
'You don't mean that you have seen him? O, Tom, how kind of you! Papa has been trying hard to get a day now that these first six months are up; but there are two or three cases that wanted so much watching that he has not been able to stir.'