Had he but known it, that walk was symbolical of the rest of his life. When he did get home his rather ancient “evening shoes” were quit worn out.
IV
THE EDUCATION OF THE MINISTER
“The Duke is coming at the end of the month,” announced Wiggins to the minister, as they anchored and fished for poddlies in the bay.
“What Duke?”
“My brother; he’s at school at Leamington; he’s going to Eton in three years. He’s ten, four years older nor me.” Wiggins was a model of conciseness in the way he imparted information.
“Why do you call him the Duke?” asked the minister in rather an abstracted voice; he was watching a tall lady on the distant links.
“’Cause he is one; his name’s Marmaduke, and he is a tremenjous Duke; they all say so.”
“Who are they?”
“Oh, mother, and uncles, and boys, and people.”
“Is he like you?”