“And for me, Eli,” said the suffering woman, with a smile.
“And for you, dear,” he said, tenderly, and there was peace until some new peccadillo of the eldest son was discovered.
Then to the Rector’s dismay he found that Cyril—his mother’s darling—seemed to have taken a leaf out of his brother’s book. If the younger brother’s career had been to run upon a tram-line laid down by his elder brother, he could not have followed in the course more truly, and just as the Rector was beginning to feel calmed down and happy in the society of his two pretty daughters, troubles concerning Cyril kept cropping up.
“Nice chaps for a parson’s sons,” said Jabez Fullerton, the principal draper at Lawford, who could afford to speak out, as Mrs Mallow and her daughters sent to Swan and Edgar’s for everything. And he did speak out; for, as deacon at his chapel and occasional preacher, he never lost an opportunity of saying a few words by way of practice.
“Nice chaps for a parson’s sons! This is the sort of stuff they send to college, and then send back to teach us, in their surplices which we have to pay for the washing of, though we never go to church. Nice fellows they’ll be to preach sermons—out of books too—read ’em. We at chapel never read our sermons, eh?”
There was a murmur of acquiescence here, and Mr Jabez Fullerton felt happy.
Not that the Rev. Eli Mallow had thought of making his sons clergymen after testing them for a short time. Cyril had, like his brother, been to college, and with a view to his succeeding to the living of Lawford, but, as in the case of Frank, the Rector soon gave him up in despair.
Matters grew worse; then worse still. Expostulation, prayer, anger, all were tried in vain, and, having to bear the trouble to a great extent in silence, so as to hide it from the sick mother, who idolised Cyril, the Rector was at times almost beside himself.
At last there came a crash, and the Rector determined to get this son away before something worse should result.
Emigration was being much talked of just then, and plenty of young men were going out to the various colonies to commence life as squatters both in the far east and west. A couple of the young farmers of the neighbourhood of Lawford were about to start, and, after a stormy scene with his father, Cyril came one day to propose that he should be furnished with a little capital and an outfit, so that he could go and try his luck in Australia.