“Major!” cried Andrew. “Lucky if he keeps his commission. Coming down? No. He’s off to the Continent.”
“Find plenty of scamps there to keep him company,” added Tom. “So he’s broke—eh? ha! ha!”
“Tom,” said Andrew, seriously, “I’ll tell you all about it, if you’ll swear not to split on me, because it would really upset poor Harry so. She’d think me such a beastly hypocrite, I couldn’t face her afterwards.”
“Lose what pluck you have—eh?” Tom jerked out his hand, and bade his brother continue.
Compelled to trust in him without a promise, Andrew said: “Well, then, after we’d arranged it, I went back to Harry, and begged her to have poor Van at the house: told her what I hoped you’d do for him about getting him into the Brewery. She’s very kind, Tom, ’pon my honour she is. She was willing, only—”
“Only—eh?”
“Well, she was so afraid it’d hurt her sisters to see him there.”
Old Tom saw he was in for excellent fun, and wouldn’t spoil it for the world.
“Yes, Nan?”
“So I went to Caroline. She was easy enough; and she went to the Countess.”