“You’re going to make him a minister, are you not?”
“Noa,” said John Bolland’s deep voice from the door. “He’s goin’ to college. I’ve settled it to-day.”
None present appreciated the force of this statement like Martha, and she resented such a momentous decision being arrived at without her knowledge. Her head bent, and twitching fingers sought the ends of her apron. John strode ponderously forward and placed a huge hand on her shoulder.
“Dinnat be vexed, Martha,” he said gently. “I hadn’t a chance te speak wi’ ye sen Dr. MacGregor an’ me had a bit crack about t’ lad. I didn’t need te coom te you for counsel. Who knew better’n me that yer heart was set on Martin bein’ browt up a gentleman?”
This recognition of motherly rights somewhat mollified his wife.
“Eh, but I’m main pleased, John,” she said. “Yet I’ll be sorry to lose him.”
“Ye’ll wear yer knuckles te t’ bone makkin’ him fine shirts an’ fallals, all t’ same,” laughed her husband.
Mrs. Saumarez had seen the glint of tears in Mrs. Bolland’s eyes, and came to the rescue with a request for a second cup of tea.
“England is fortunate in being an island,” she said. “Now, in my native land every man has to serve in the army. It cannot be avoided, you know. Germany has France on the one hand and Russia on the other, each ready to spring if she relaxes her vigilance for a moment.”
“Is that so?” inquired Bolland. “I wunner why?”