We all joined in conversation, with the exception of Wilfred. He sat behind his mother, never speaking a word. I forget now what were the subjects of discussion; it does not matter much. Still I cannot but wish that some clever painter could have put the gathering on canvas, for to me it looked beautiful. My father was so stately and grand, while my mother was, I think, the handsomest woman I ever saw; and behind her was the clear, Greek-like face of my brother. The three girls, too, looked the picture of contentment. It was a home scene in a quiet old house, and worthy of a painter's skill.
We had been sitting there some little time, when the vicar walked in. He was always a welcome visitor and I regarded him as a sort of second father. He joined in our conversation quite naturally, and we soon became quite merry together.
Presently there was a lull in our talk, and then Wilfred, without any warning, broke out excitedly, and in a loud voice,
"Father, I want to go to Oxford."
We all looked at him in astonishment. He had been so silent all the evening that this made us think something was the matter.
My father eyed him keenly, and then replied quietly.
"I had arranged for you to go next year, Wilfred."
"Yes, but I want to go now," he said, excitedly. "I've been home here long enough; I've wasted enough time."
"You've not wasted so much time, my boy," said my father, kindly. "Mr. Polperrow has had you in hand, and has given you a good drilling; besides, you are only just turned eighteen."
"I know," he said; "but I am the younger son, and so shall have no fortune. Thus, I think, I should waste no time in getting an education. Mr. Polperrow told me, not long since, that he could not do much more for me, and as I am to be 'penniless Wilfred' I think I might have a chance to earn my bread."