“Oh, as to that,” said the other, “I should have no objection; but, you see, if I am to get married I really think I ought to try to get into some position of earning my own living or helping toward it, you know.  I begin to see how galling this sort of dependence on my aunt might be if I wished to act for myself.  Now, if I were to begin to do anything, I could not go and bury myself in Lewis for half the year—­just at first:  by and by, you know, it might be different.  But don’t you think I ought to begin and do something?”

“Most certainly.  I have often wished you had been born a carpenter or painter or glazier.”

“People are not born carpenters or glaziers, but sometimes they are born painters.  I think I have been born nothing; but I am willing to try, more especially as I think Sheila would like it.”

“I know she would.”

“I will write and tell her the moment I get to London.”

“I would fix first what your occupation was to be, if I were you.  There is no hurry about telling Sheila, although she will be very glad to get as much news of you as possible, and I hope you will spare no time or trouble in pleasing her in that line.  By the way, what an infamous shame it was of you to go and gammon old Mackenzie into the belief that he can read poetry!  Why, he will make that girl’s life a burden to her.  I heard him propose to read Paradise Lost to her as soon as the rain set in.”

“I didn’t gammon him,” said Lavender with a laugh.  “Every man thinks he can read poetry better than every other man, even as every man fancies that no one gets cigars as good and as cheap as he does, and that no one can drive a horse safely but himself.  My talking about his reading was not as bad as Sheila’s persuading him that he can play whist.  Did you ever know a man who did not believe that everybody else’s reading of poetry was affected, stilted and unbearable?  I know Mackenzie must have been reading poetry to Sheila long before I mentioned it to him.”

“But that suggestion about his resonant voice and the Crystal Palace?”

“That was a joke.”

“He did not take it as a joke, and neither did Sheila.”

“Well, Sheila would believe that her father could command the Channel fleet, or turn out the present ministry, or build a bridge to America, if only anybody hinted it to her.  Touching that Crystal Palace:  did you observe how little notion of size she could have got from pictures when she asked me if the Crystal Palace was much bigger than the hot-houses at Lewis Castle?”

“What a world of wonder the girl is coming into!” said the other meditatively.  “But it will be all lit up by one sun if only you take care of her and justify her belief in you.”

“I have not much doubt,” said Lavender with a certain modest confidence in his manner which had repeatedly of late pleased his friend.