“There is work enough of the best kind. It is the remuneration that is scant. And the remuneration could not be made a secondary consideration; if you left home.”
“In one sense, it ought to be secondary. But I think it must be delightful to feel that one is ‘making one’s living,’ as Mr Snow would say. I should like to know how it feels to be quite independent, Will, I must confess.”
“But Graeme, there is no need; and it would make Arthur quite unhappy, if he were to hear you speak in that way. Even to me, it sounds a little like pride, or discontent.”
“Does it, Will. That is dreadful. It is quite possible that these evil elements enter into my vexed thoughts. We won’t speak any more about it, Will.”
“But, why should we not speak about it? You may be quite right. At any rate, you are not likely to set yourself right, by keeping your vexed thoughts to yourself.”
But, if Graeme had been ever so willing, there was no more time just now. There was a knock at the door, and Sarah, the housemaid, presented herself.
“If you please, Miss Graeme, do you think I might go out as usual. It is Wednesday, you know.”
Wednesday was the night of the weekly lecture, in Sarah’s kirk. She was a good little girl, and a worshipper in a small way of a popular young preacher of the day.
“If Nelly thinks she can manage without you,” said Graeme.
“It was Nelly proposed it. She can do very well, unless Mrs Elliott brings home some one with her, which is unlikely so late.”