Mrs. Tudor seemed to wince a little.
"You needn't make the very worst of it just yet, any way," said Frances, reproachfully.
"And it would in one sense be the hardest on Geoff," said the mother, "for his education would have to be stopped, just when he's getting on so well, too."
"But——" began Elsa, but she said no more. It was no use just then expressing what was in her mind—that getting on well at school, winning the good opinion of his masters, the good fellowship of his companions, did not comprise the whole nor even the most important part of the duty of a boy who was also a son and a brother—a son, too, of a widowed mother, and a brother of fatherless sisters. "I would almost rather," she said to herself, "that he got on less well at school if he were more of a comfort at home. It would be more manly, somehow."
Her mother did not notice her hesitation.
"Let us go upstairs, dears," she said. "I am tired, but I am not going to let myself be over-anxious. I shall try to put things aside, as it were, till I hear from Great-Uncle Hoot-Toot. I have the fullest confidence in his advice."
"I wish he would take it into his head to come home," said Frances.
"So do I," agreed her mother.
They were hardly settled in the drawing-room before Vic appeared.
"Elsa," she whispered, "Geoff sent me to ask if he may have something to eat."