"No. I hate it."
Giles was silent. He felt very sorry for his brother, and ashamed too of his complaints of a little while ago. He felt, more than he understood, that his trouble was small in comparison with that of which he had just heard.
"I am so sorry," he said, and he slipped his hand into Edgar's. "Isn't there any hope that you may be a doctor yet?"
"I don't think so. In the present day, one can't be a doctor without having had a good education and passed lots of exams., and I had to leave school before I was fifteen. Even if we should be better off in a year or two, there will certainly be no money to spare."
"Perhaps something will turn up," said Giles, hardly knowing what he meant by the frequently-heard expression, but hoping the words would show his sympathy and give comfort.
"You're a downright good fellow to talk to," said Edgar, greatly touched by the manner in which Giles had received his confidence, and accompanying the words with an affectionate squeeze of the little hand that was clasped in his own. "But," he continued, "I'm afraid there isn't a shadow of hope for me. I shouldn't have said, though, that I hated my work at the warehouse. I do try to like it, and perhaps, after a while, I may find pleasure in it. Of course, I am very glad to be able to do something towards adding to the general fund. I wouldn't be a clog on mother and father for ever so. I'd a thousand times rather have it as it is."
At this the conversation abruptly ended, for at that moment they entered the booking-office, and the puffing and noise of a train drawing up in the station below warned Edgar that if he would catch it, he had not a moment to lose. He had only time for a look and a hurried good-bye, as he rushed down the long flight of steps, leaving Giles to go home alone.
But it was a very different Giles from the one who had left the breakfast-table. For the first time he began to see some of the true meaning of life. Christ had not pleased Himself, neither must he; and it made him glad to know that he, child as he was, could take his part in bearing the family trouble. The thought caused him to be very strong, and brave, and manly.
"No, I won't grumble," he said to himself. "I'll just try to do my best for Dora, and mother shan't ever know how much I hate doing lessons at home, and how badly I want to go to school. And what's more," and Giles drew himself up with conscious dignity, "I won't got cross and angry when I meet Tom Rilston and some of the other boys who used to be in my form, and they ask me how I like being taught at home by my 'mammy.'"
He began to put his good resolutions into practice at once. On reaching home he went straight to the sitting room where Dora was reading with Phil upon her knee. She and the baby were alone, and going up to her, Giles said simply,—