"I have, and of Miss Forester," said John Danvers. "Women are being taken more and more out of their sphere day by day. Go on, boy—your ideas amuse me; so I'm to enter purgatory for the sake of a girl. Go on, pray!"
"No," said Maurice; "I wish I were the same age as you, sir, or you were the same age as me, and we'd fight this out, not for the sake of a girl in the ordinary sense of the word, but because of the best sister a fellow ever had, and we want to give her a chance—at least I do."
"And you propose to send me to a lunatic asylum?"
"Not quite; we wouldn't be as bad as that. You own the whole of this house, don't you?"
"What's that to you, you young dog?"
"Yes; but don't you?"
"Fact, Maurice Ross; I also own a digestive system, which is going to be put frightfully out of gear by this night's work."
"Oh, I wish you'd take the matter seriously. We boys want a bedroom, and any ramshackle sort of place to work in. I engage, on my honor, to keep the three younger lads in order. I know a bit of cooking, and we can manage our own meals, and we can pay you for every scrap of expenses you are put to, and you can have a bit of profit over and above."
"You can leave the profit out, young Ross."