“Hear! hear!” cried the doctor, thumping the table. “Here hi! You Vane, why don’t you cheer, sir, when our Queen of Sheba speaks such words of wisdom. Your aspirations shall not be stopped, boy. There, no more words about the trouble. It’s only the loss of money, and it has done me good. I was growing idle and dyspeptic.”
“You were not, dear,” said Aunt Hannah, decidedly.
“Oh, yes, I was, my dear, and this has roused me up. There, I don’t care a bit for the loss, since you two take it so bravely. And, perhaps after all, in spite of all the lawyers say, matters may not turn out quite so badly. Deering says he shall come down, and I like that: it’s honourable and straightforward of him.”
“I wish he would not come,” said Aunt Hannah, “I wish we had never seen his face.”
“No, no! tut, tut,” said the doctor.
“I’m sure I shall not be able to speak civilly to him,” cried Aunt Hannah.
“You will, dear, and you will make him as welcome as ever. His misfortune is as great as ours—greater, because he has the additional care of feeling that he has pretty well ruined us and poor Vane here.”
“Oh, it hasn’t ruined me, uncle,” cried Vane. “I don’t so much mind missing college.”
“But, suppose I had some money to leave you, my boy, and it is all gone.”
“Oh,” cried Vane, merrily, “I’m glad of that. Mr Syme said one day that he always pitied a young man who had expectations from his elders, for, no matter how true-hearted the heir might be, it was always a painful position for him to occupy, that of waiting for prosperity till other people died. It was something like that, uncle, but I haven’t given it quite in his words.”