'I think I will have roast turkey,' I said, after prolonged consideration, and I accordingly had it, with the accompaniment of sausage and bread sauce, to say nothing of the sweets and the ice which followed. But even what Captain Knowlton described as luncheon, and what I regarded as a kind of king of dinners, was eclipsed by what came afterwards, for we were driven to a theatre, where a comic opera was being played; and at seven o'clock that evening a very tired and sleepy boy, with his right hand tightly clenched on a half-sovereign in his jacket pocket, was deposited on the steps of the house in Acacia Road.
During the next few weeks Captain Knowlton was a frequent visitor, while, for my own part, I wished that he would come every day. One afternoon he arrived in the rain and stayed to tea.
'Now, Jack,' he said, setting down his empty cup, 'I should like to hear you read.'
But as I was bringing one of our small collection of books from the sideboard, he called me away.
'No, none of that,' he cried, with a laugh; 'something you have never seen before. Try the newspaper.'
Although I appeared to win approval by my reading of the extremely uninteresting leading article, he shook his head at the sight of my handwriting, whilst he seemed to be astounded by my total ignorance of Latin and French.
'The fact is,' he said, 'it is high time you went to boarding-school!'
Before he left the house that afternoon he had another private conversation with Aunt Marion, and a week or two later he arrived with the announcement that 'everything had been arranged.'
'Windlesham has been very strongly recommended to me,' he explained. 'The Reverend Matthew Windlesham, to give him his full title.'
'Has he a living?' inquired Aunt Marion.