No one answered her.
"Oscar, I ask you, would it go to mamma?"
"No."
"To whom, then?"
"My dear," interposed Mrs. Dalrymple, "it would be Oscar's. It goes in the male line."
The answer took both the young ladies by surprise. They were really very ignorant of these matters. Each of them stole a glance at Oscar: a red, conscious light had flown into his usually pale cheek.
"I never knew it," breathed Selina.
"And it is of little import your knowing it now," gently spoke Oscar. "I am as likely to come into the Grange as I am of being made prime minister. Robert is a younger man than I am."
"Poor Robert!" lamented Alice. "He has been left to himself up in that great wicked town, he has had no one to turn to for advice or counsel, and I dare say he has only done what he has done from thoughtlessness. A word from mamma may set him right. Mamma, do you not think you ought to go to him?"
"Yes, Alice. It is what I have been resolving to do, now, as you were talking. And you must stay here over tomorrow, and go with me, Oscar. We will start by the nine-o'clock train on Monday morning."