“Come along with us, do!” said Tom. “We’re just going to trot Rosalind over to her diggings, and then we can have a high old lark in the paddock on our way back.”
“The programme is not attractive, Thomas,” said the tutor. “Good-bye again, Miss Oliphant.”
Captain Oliphant had already bidden his daughter a tender farewell, and was enjoying a cigar in the library.
“Oh,” said he, as the tutor entered, “you got my note, did you, sir?”
“I did, thanks.”
“Well, sir?”
“That was the question I was about to ask you. Excuse my saying it, but it was a very foolish note for a man in your position to write. Did Mrs Ingleton—”
“Mrs Ingleton has decided, on my advice, to send her son to Oxford. I have recently been there, and made inquiries.”
“Indeed! I’ll join you in your smoke, if you don’t mind,” and the tutor drew a chair up to the table and filled his pipe.
Captain Oliphant was considerably disconcerted at this cool reception of his piece of news; but, warned by previous experiences, he forbore to bluster.