"Well, my dear Salome? And how are you, Emily? You look warm and comfortable here. It is a wretched night. Where are the boys?"
"Reginald is working hard at the exams, and the little ones are in bed. Raymond is out. He is so closely confined in the office all day that I cannot keep him here all the evening. The change in our circumstances falls more heavily on him than on any of them. Life at Eton and life here are indeed two different things."
Dr. Wilton gave an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, and looking at Salome, whose face was turned up to his with its wistful expression, he said,—
"I saw Mr. Warde to-day, and I am sorry to say that he did not give at all a good account of Raymond. He is very unpunctual in his attendance at the office, and very careless and idle when he is there. The senior clerk complains of him continually; and not only of this, but he gives himself such airs that he is most unpopular with the men in the same office."
Dr. Wilton had found great difficulty in beginning what he had to say, but when once in for it he went straight through. He saw with pity and compassion his sister-in-law's face grow whiter and whiter as he went on, and he saw Salome quietly move and, going behind her mother's chair, put her hand caressingly on her shoulder, bending down, and pressing her cheek against her mother's in silent sympathy.
"My dear Emily," Dr. Wilton said kindly, "I am extremely sorry to have to say this. The boy is young, and has been—well, a good deal indulged. Let us hope he will see the folly of throwing away his chance of earning his living. His head is stuffed full of nonsense, and even my own boys complain of his brag."
Mrs. Wilton rallied now. That the clerks in the office should complain of her son filled her with pain: but that his cousins (as she thought), plain, uninteresting, heavy boys, should dare to disparage her handsome, bright son, to whose faults she was blind, filled her with anger as well as pain.
"I do not think any of my children have seen much of yours in their own home, Loftus," she replied; "and if this is the way the one who is so constantly here has repaid our kindness, I shall take care he is not with us so much in future."
"O mother, Digby would never be unkind," Salome said warmly. "He would never speak evil of any one. Reg says—"
"I know Reginald is your favourite brother, Salome. Perhaps you might have done more for poor Raymond, if—"