“Where are Mama and the children, Roy?”
“They are down on the beach, Father, throwing sticks into the lake for Fido to swim after. The dog is almost crazy with the delight of the game.”
“Why are you not down there too? You seem to be moping lately, my boy. Is anything the matter? Are you quite well?”
“Quite, thanks. I am not moping, but the fact is, Father, I have something I wish to talk to you about, and as the rest won't be back for some time, perhaps this is a good opportunity to tell you what I have to say.”
“Dear me! what a lot of mystery! Say on, son. I am all attention. Let me see: how old are you? Nineteen next month, eh? You'll be graduated next year at St. Cuthbert's, will you not?”
“I hope so,” replied the boy modestly.
“That's right. Well, I suppose you want to talk about the choice of a profession. It is quite time you made a choice, you know.”
“That is precisely what I wish to speak about.”
“Ah! Well, go on. I am willing to listen to your ideas, reserving, of course, the right of veto,
Is it to be the law, or medicine, or the army? Perhaps 'tis the navy? I have influence enough to get you into Annapolis, if you wish to follow the sea.”