“He would like to go to London to study for the bar,” faltered Auntie Nan.
“Why not the church at home?”
“The church would have been my own choice, Peter, but his father——”
The Ballawhaine crossed his leg over his knee. “His father was always a man of a high stomach, ma'am,” he said. Then facing towards Philip, “Your idea would be to return to the island.”
“Yes,” said Philip.
“Practice as an advocate, and push your way to insular preferment?”
“My father seemed to wish it, sir,” said Philip.
The Ballawhaine turned back to Auntie Nan. “Well, Miss Christian?”
Auntie Nan fumbled the handle of her umbrella and began—“We were thinking, Peter—you see we know so little—now if his father had been living——”
The Ballawhaine coughed, scratched with his nail on his cheek, and said, “You wish me to put him with a barrister in chambers, is that it?”