“Miss Pettigrew will talk her over,” I said. “It’s a great chance for Hilda. She oughtn’t to miss it.”
“And Selby-Harrison has just entered the Divinity School,” said Lalage. “He couldn’t possibly afford the time.”
“The long days on the steamer,” I said, “would be perfectly invaluable to him. He could read theology from morning to night. There’d be nothing, except an occasional albatross, to distract his attention.”
“Those South American republics,” said Miss Pettigrew, “are continually having revolutions.”
Miss Pettigrew is certainly a very clever woman. Her suggestion was the first thing which caused Lalage to waver. A revolution must be very attractive to a girl of her temperament; and revolutions are comparatively rare on this side of the Atlantic. Lalage certainly hesitated.
“What do you think, Hilda?” she asked.
For one moment I dared to hope.
“There’s been a lot of gun-running done out there lately,” I said, “and I heard of a new submarine on the Amazon.”
I am afraid I overdid it. Miss Pettigrew certainly frowned at me.
“Mother would never let me,” said Hilda.