Jill had actually laughed at this.
"You can't expect it—not on a subject as serious as his whole future. He's a human being—just like you!—Why can't he have a voice in the matter? He's not fitted for a soldier—he's an artist to his finger tips. Well!—you can try and send him to Sandhurst but you can't make him pass his Exams!"
Roddy, white lipped and deeply hurt, had caught his sister's eye and chuckled.
"That's a sound idea," he said. "Thank you, Jill—I won't forget."
At this point Mrs. Uniacke had fallen back on her last resource—tears; and, her handkerchief to her eyes, had ordered her children up to bed.
"Just as if we still wore socks!" Jill, rebellious, had whispered as they climbed up the dingy stairs of the tiny furnished house by the sea. "Never mind, old boy—you shan't be a soldier. I'll see to that. In a few years' time I'll have my money that Father left me. She can't touch that! I believe Aunt Elizabeth would help if it came to a pinch..." she broke off as "Rat-tat"—down below came the postman's knock.
She leaned over the banisters and called to the servant in the hall.
"Anything for me, Ada?"
"No, miss—one for your mother."
A shadow fell across Jill's face. She longed for a letter from McTaggart, now staying with the Leasons. Then she smiled back at her brother.