"The sooner things are settled, the better," she remarked. "I will name eleven o'clock to-morrow morning."
"Very good; I'll be here," he answered. "And I am glad it is decided amicably."
The rest of those present also appeared glad. Perhaps they had feared some unpleasant recrimination might take place between Mrs. Ryle and James Chattaway. Thus relieved, they unbent a little, and crossed their legs as if inclined to become more sociable.
"What shall you do with the boys, Mrs. Ryle?" suddenly asked Farmer Apperley.
"Treve, of course, will go to school as usual," she replied. "George——I have not decided about George."
"Shall I have to leave school?" cried George, looking up with a start.
"Of course you will," said Mrs. Ryle.
"But what will become of my Latin; my studies altogether?" returned George, in tones of dismay. "You know, mamma——"
"It cannot be helped, George," she interrupted, speaking in the uncompromising, decisive manner, so characteristic of her; as it was of her sister, Diana Trevlyn. "You must turn your attention to something more profitable than schooling, now."
"If a boy of fifteen has not had schooling enough, I'd like to know when he has had it?" interposed Farmer Apperley, who neither understood nor approved of the strides education and intellect had made since he was a boy. Substantial people in his day had been content to learn to read and write and cipher, and deem that amount of learning sufficient to grow rich upon. As did the Dutch professor, to whom George Primrose wished to teach Greek, but who declined the offer. He had never learned Greek; he had lived, and ate, and slept without Greek; and therefore he did not see any good in Greek. Thus was it with Farmer Apperley.