“Well, but it was a message from the gov., and—I say, Dig,” added he, turning to his friend with a nudge, “you cut when Mark tells you.”
Dig departed, and Railsford weakly fell in with the arrangement of the junior, and allowed him to remain and deliver the rest of his domestic messages.
“Now, look here, Arthur,” said the master, closing the door and facing his unabashed future kinsman, “we must come to an understanding at once. During term time I forbid you to mention Daisy’s name, either to me or anybody else, unless I wish it—”
The boy whistled. “What, have you had a row, then? Is it all broken off? My eye, what will—”
“Rubbish!” said Mark, scarcely able to keep grave; “it’s neither one nor the other. But I don’t choose you should talk of her, and I insist on being obeyed.”
“Jolly rough not to be able to talk about one’s own sister!” interposed the innocent.
“Of course, I mean not in connection with me,” said Railsford. “And another thing, you must not call me Mark, but Mr Railsford, while term lasts.”
“All serene, Mr Railsford, old man! Jolly stiff, though, between brothers, isn’t it?”
“You must treat me as if I were merely your master, and no other relative.”
“How queer! Mayn’t I even be fond of you?”