“Alan is not a philosopher; he’s a country gentleman,” Jasper remarked and gave Agatha a smile. “Mrs. Carson’s rules are not yours and Kit’s?”
“Ah,” said Agatha, “some get, but some must give.”
“At the shipyard one does not get much,” said Kit. “Unless they soon promote me, I think I’ll start off with my fiddle, like the old minstrels.”
“Your talent for music was your mother’s gift,” Jasper remarked. “The Carsons hammer iron, and to use the hammer hardens one. Perhaps Agatha has inherited something of the vein; I don’t yet know about you.”
He and Agatha went off, and Evelyn knitted her brows.
“You are rather puzzling, Kit, and your uncle’s very queer.”
“He’s a grim old fellow, but we won’t bother about him,” Kit replied and put his arm round her.
“Oh, Kit, you ought not——” said Evelyn, and looked about.
Kit said nothing. He laughed and kissed Evelyn.