Etheldreda the Ready | Page 9

father were to tell you to- morrow that you couldn't be a soldier, but must go into an office and try to earn money for yourself... Suppose he took you away from Eton, Gurth, and sent you to a cheap school! How would you like that?"
Silence... The two lads sat staring into the fire with dogged faces. They scorned to cry aloud, but the horror of the prospect had for a moment a so paralysing effect that they could not reply. Leave Sandhurst in the middle of one's course, and become--a clerk! Leave Eton and the fellows, and go to one of those miserable, second-rate shows which all good Etonians regarded with ineffable contempt! Was it possible to suffer such degradation and live?
Rowena was touched to compunction by the sight of the stricken faces, for though at the moment the worst side of her character was in the ascendant, she was by no means hard-hearted, and, moreover, Hereward was her especial friend and companion. She laughed again, and gave an impatient shrug to her shoulders.
"Oh, don't be afraid ... He never will! Whatever happens, nothing will be allowed to interfere with `the boys' and their careers! We shall all pinch and screw and live on twopence-halfpenny a week, so as to be able to pay your bills. It's always the same story. Everything is sacrificed for the sons."
"Quite right, too," maintained the eldest son, stoutly. "How are you going to keep up the honour of a family if you don't give the boys a chance? It doesn't matter a fig whether a girl is educated or not, so long as she can read and write. She'll marry, of course, and then she has nothing to do but add up the bills."
At this truly masculine distinction, Rowena and Dreda tossed scornful heads and rolled indignant eyes to the ceiling.
"I shall never marry!" announced the former, thinking ruefully of the bare countryside, with never a house of consequence within a radius of miles ... "I am a suffragette. I believe in the high, lofty mission of women!" cried the second, who had been converted to the movement the day before by the sight of some sketches in the Daily Graphic. Only nine- year-old Maud sniffed, and opined, "I shall marry a lord! Then he'll have lots of money, and I'll give it to father, and we'll live happily ever after."
Poor Maud! Her millennium was not to begin just yet, at least; for Nannie, her immaculate but austere attendant, rapped at the door at that moment, and summoned her nursling to be bathed and put to bed. Maud was every evening enraged afresh at being called at such a ridiculously early hour, and to-night her annoyance was increased by the fact that she was torn ruthlessly from the rare treat of a conference with her elders, in which she had really been and truly on the level of a "grown- up." She fumed with anger, but presently consolation came with the idea of a dramatic disclosure upstairs. She waited until she and her attendant were alone together in the bedroom, and then sprung the bolt in her most impressive fashion.
"Nannie, we're ruined!"
"Indeed, miss. Sorry to hear it, I'm sure," returned Nannie, unperturbed. It is safe to predict that any important family news will be known as soon in the servants' hall as in the drawing-room, and Nannie had the air of listening to a very stale piece of information.
Maud was distinctly disappointed, but nerved herself for fresh efforts. "Yes. Bankrup'! There's nothing left. I'm going to give up all my savings. What will you do, Nannie--leave?"
"I shall be pleased to stay on, miss, as long as your mother can afford to give me my wages and a nursery maid."
"Oh, Nannie, how mean! The Pharisees likewise do as much as that! In storybooks the nurses always stay on, whether they are ruined or not, and give their money to help. You are mean!"
"No impertinence, please," said Nannie sharply. She was just beginning to comb out Maud's hair, and it was astonishing how many knots there appeared to be that evening. "I'm sorry I spoke," reflected poor Maud.
CHAPTER FOUR.
In the next week future plans were practically settled so far as the young people were concerned. Rowena had been right in her surmise about the boys, for, like most fathers, Mr Saxon was prepared to retrench in any and every direction rather than interfere with the education of his sons. It was a family tradition that the eldest son should go into the army; therefore, at all costs, Hereward must continue that tradition. The Saxons had for generations been Eton boys, therefore it was impossible that Gurth could attend another school. As to the girls-- well, Mr Saxon dearly loved his three daughters, and was proud