"Are there no fresh eggs?" asked her son.
Mrs. Cameron reluctantly conceded that there were such things in the house, and Bernard rang for them.
After that, the breakfast proceeded in silence for a time, and then Bernard remarked that he hoped to get another situation as tutor, near London, very soon. "I have written to one or two agents," he said. "I want to get a private tutorship, if I can. It will be less disagreeable than being an under-master in a school."
"Why do you want to be near London?" asked his mother, frowning.
Bernard did not answer. She knew very well that he wanted to be near Doris Anderson, and he did not wish to discuss Doris with her. During his illness, it had been one of his heaviest afflictions that he could not escape from the sound of his mother's voice, as she railed against Doris and her parents.
"Has the newspaper come?" he asked presently.
"Yes." Mrs. Cameron pointed to the local daily newspaper lying on the sideboard; and, as her son rose to get it, she remarked: "I cannot think why the postman has not come."
"Oh, he has. I took the letters from him at the door, as I was passing it----"
"You did?" Mrs. Cameron looked annoyed. "How often have I requested you to allow Jane to bring the letters into the room in a decent manner!" she snapped.
"They were only for me. Surely a man is entitled to his own letters!"