“Yes,”—I said,—“that was her ostensible reason; but, I think, she objects to me personally—in addition to having other and grander designs for Min.”
“Ah, well,”—said Miss Pimpernell,—“we haven’t got to consider those other motives now; she rejected your offer, at all events, on the plea of your want of fortune?”
“Yes,” said I, mechanically, again.
“Then, that is all we’ve got to deal with, my boy,”—she said.—“Mrs Clyde is quite right, too, you know, Frank. You have got no profession, or any regular occupation. Let us see if we cannot mend matters. In the first place, are you willing to work? Would you like some certain employment on which you can depend?”—And she looked at me kindly but searchingly over her spectacles.
“Would a duck swim?” said I, using an expressive Hibernicism.
“Well, what sort of employment would you like?” she asked.
“Anything,” I replied.
“Come, that’s good!” she said.—“And what can you do?”
“Everything,” I said.
She laughed good-humouredly.—“You’ve a pretty good opinion of yourself at any rate, Master Frank, if that’s any recommendation:—you will never fail through want of impudence. But, I’ll speak to the vicar about this. I think he could get you a nomination for a Government office.”