"Oh, well, Reginald must have a year or two more, I suppose. But Raymond is well over sixteen; he must work for his living."
"And there is Ada, Uncle Loftus,—she must go on with her lessons."
"My dear, I am afraid must is a word we shall have to leave alone now. It is what you can afford out of your poor mother's income, not what you must have. Now I want you to ask her what she thinks of my plan. If she approves it, I will look for a small furnished lodging, somewhere in Roxburgh, and I will speak to your Aunt Anna—only you must get your mother's mind about it first. I shall see her to-morrow before I leave, and you can prepare her for my proposition. You must take heart, my dear. Things may brighten."
"Nothing can bring father back," said Salome passionately. "I could bear anything if only I had him. To have worked so hard for us, and then to die ruined and broken-hearted!"
Dr. Wilton had nothing to say except, "My dear, don't fret—pray don't. From what I have observed as a medical man, I think your poor father's life would not have been a long one at the best. He had a slight attack, you know, two years ago, when I advised him to go abroad for a few weeks for entire rest. And this fearful blow was too much for him—brought on the last attack of paralysis, which proved fatal. Your brothers ought not to have gone off in that way."
"I am here, Uncle Loftus," Reginald said. "I have heard every word; I am ready to do anything to help my mother," he continued, drawing himself upright from the long grass where he had been lying full length.
"That's a brave little man," Dr. Wilton said. "I wish your brother may show the same good feeling." And then he relighted his cigar, and went over the bridge again.
"How unfeeling he is!" were Reginald's first words. "Oh, dear Sal, don't!" for Salome was sobbing bitterly. "Don't, Sal; and, for any sake, don't let us go to Roxburgh to be patronized by that set of heartless people. Let's stick together, and go and live near a big school, where I can go as a day boy. Not at Rugby though; I shouldn't like that. The fellows in Crawford's house might look down on me as a day boy. It is hard to have to leave Rugby; but I don't mean to give up because I have to do my work somewhere else. One's work doesn't alter—that's one comfort; and I'll do my best. And I have got you, Sal; that's more than most fellows can say, for sisters like you don't grow like blackberries in the hedge."
"O Reg! I am sure I have not been of much use to you, only I think I understand you. And, Reg"—this was said very earnestly—"you must tell me always when I am untidy, and wake me up when I am in a dream, and remind me to put my books away, and not leave everything in a higgledy-piggledy fashion."
"Oh, bother it! clever girls like you, who are always thinking and making up stories and verses, often are all of a heap."