"Very well," said Alaric, determinedly: "I'll work, too." Mrs. Chichester looked up pleadingly.
Alaric went on: "I'll put my hand to the plough. The more I think of it the keener I am to begin. From to-day I'll be a workin' man."
At this Ethel laughed a queer, little, odd, supercilious note, summed up in a single word: "Ha!" There was nothing mirthful in it. There was no reproach in it. It was just an expression of her honest feeling at the bare suggestion of her brother WORKING.
Alaric turned quickly to her:
"And may I ask WHY that 'Ha!'? WHY, I ask you? There's nothing I couldn't do if I were really put to it—not a single thing. Is there, mater?"
His mother looked up proudly at him.
"I know that, dear. But it's dreadful to think of YOU—WORKING."
"Not at all," said Alaric, "I'm just tingling all over at the thought of it. The only reason I haven't so far is because I've never had to. But now that I have, I'll just buckle on my armour, so to speak, and astonish you all."
Again came that deadly, cold, unsympathetic "Ha!" from Ethel.
"Please don't laugh in that cheerless way, Ethel. It goes all down my spine. Jerry's always tellin' me I ought to do something—that the world is for the worker—and all that. He's right, and I'm goin' to show him." He suddenly picked up the paper and looked at the date. "What's to-day? The FIRST? Yes, so it is. June the first. Jerry's comin' to-day—all his family, too. They've taken 'Noel's Folly' on the hill. He's sure to look in here. Couldn't be better. He's the cove to turn to in a case like this."