A naturally selfish disposition, he was altogether unconscious of it. He had spent a great deal of money at Eton; he had wasted a great deal of time. He cared nothing about Latin and Greek, still less about Euclid. If his clothes were well made, and he could get all Lord Clement Henshaw got, and the Marquis of Stonyshire's nephew, he was content. But as to a thought of his responsibility as his father's eldest son, or any idea beyond the present moment, he had nothing of the kind. Of late he had grown arrogant and self-asserting at home; and the holidays, when Reginald came rushing in with joyous gladness from Rugby, were by no means unmixed pleasures to the other children, by reason of Raymond's return from Eton. Reginald was Salome's especial friend. Ada, in her pretty completeness, stood somewhat alone. She was so "provokingly perfect," Reginald said. No one ever caught Ada out; and it was so dull.
The little boys were under Miss Barnes's care; but Carl was to go to a preparatory school at Christmas. The very idea of such a separation set "Hans's water-works flowing," Reginald said; so the great event was only generally understood, and not talked about.
Just as Miss Barnes had risen from the table, saying, "Your grace, Hans," and just as little Hans had lifted his voice in childish treble, with the accustomed form used by all his predecessors in the Wilton family, the door opened, and Mrs. Wilton came in.
Salome went to her impetuously. "Have you had no luncheon, mother? Let me ring for some hot soup."
Mrs. Wilton took the chair Miss Barnes vacated, and saying in a low voice to her, "Take the children away," she declined anything but a glass of wine and a biscuit, and scarcely seemed to notice the children's eager—
"We may have the tableaux, mother, mayn't we? and Ada may write the notes for our birthday party?"
"Yes, darlings, yes. Run away now."
The two little boys scampered off, and Ada, stooping over her mother, kissed her, and said,—
"You look so tired, mother!"
Raymond and Reginald were still lingering at the bottom of the table, when Raymond said,—