"Nobody ever had a more suitable name, I'm sure. This house wouldn't be this house without her."
Jarratt Weekes and Sarah Jane now returned, and the subject was dropped by implicit understanding.
"I hope your great son, William, be well," said Sarah to the schoolmaster.
"Very well indeed, I thank you," he answered. "I could wish he had a little of his parent's zeal for toil, but he lacks it."
"Why for did he give up his shop work?" she asked.
"To be honest, it was rather undignified. For my son to fill that position was not quite respectful to me. He insisted upon it, but after a time, as I expected, found the duties irksome. I was not sorry when he changed his mind and returned to his painting."
"All the same, he's eating his head off now," said Mary Churchward.
"I shouldn't say that," declared William's father. "He helps me with the elder scholars. I have little doubt that some outlet for his artistic energies may soon be forthcoming. He has even an idea of going abroad."
"Do they still call him the 'Infant'?" asked Mr. Weekes.
"I believe so. How time flies with those who work as we do! Tempus fugit, I'm sure. It seems only yesterday that he was really an infant. In these arms the physician placed him some hours after his birth, with the remark that never had he introduced a fatter boy into the world."