The doctor, who was going out into the garden, smiled as he turned, shook his head, and walked back to his chair.
“You have not been doing anything, Vane, my lad,” he said quickly and sadly. “If anyone deserves a scolding it is I; and your aunt persistently refuses to administer it.”
“Of course,” said Aunt Hannah, looking up from her work, “you meant to do what was right, my dear. I am sorry more on your account than on my own, dear,” and she rose and went behind the doctor’s chair to place her hands on his shoulder.
He took them both and pressed them together to hold them against his cheek.
“Thank you, my dear,” he said, turning his head to look up in her eyes. “I knew it would make no difference in you. For richer or poorer, for better or worse, eh? There, go and sit down, my dear, and let’s have a chat with Vane here.”
Aunt Hannah bowed her head and went back to her place, but contrived so that she might pass close to Vane and pass her hand through his curly hair.
“Vane, boy,” said the doctor sharply and suddenly, “I meant to send you to college for the regular terms.”
“Yes, uncle.”
“And then let you turn civil engineer.”
“Yes, uncle, I knew that,” said the lad, wonderingly.