“But mother gives you three hundred a year.”

“Yes—­such a lot!  You girls think that a fine sum, I suppose!  That’s all you know.  Three hundred!  It’s a pittance.  No fellow has a right to go into the army with such small private means.”

“But, Loftie, you would not accept Uncle Roderick Macleod’s offer.  He wrote so often, and said he could help you if you joined him in India.”

“Yes, I knew what that meant.  Now, look here, Kate.  We needn’t rake up the past.  My lot in life is fixed.  I like my profession, but I can’t be expected to care for the beggary which accompanies it.  I’m in a scrape, and I want to see the mater.”

“Poor mother!  I wish you weren’t going to worry her, Loftie.”

“It doesn’t worry a mother to help her only son.”

“But she has helped you so often.  You know it was on account of you that we came down here, because mother had given you so much, and it was the only way left to us to save.  It wasn’t at all a good thing for Mabel and me, for we had to leave our education unfinished.  But mother thought it best.  What’s the matter, Loftie?”

“Only if you’re going on in this strain I’m off to bed.  It is hard on a fellow when he comes once in a while to see his sisters to be called over the coals by them.  You know I’m awfully fond of you, Kitty, and somehow I thought you’d be a comfort to me.  You know very little indeed of the real worries of life.”

Loftus spoke in a tone of such feeling that Catherine’s warm heart was instantly touched.

“I won’t say any more,” she answered.  “I know it isn’t right of me.  I always wished and longed to be a help to you, Loftie.”

“So you can.  You are a dear little sis when you like.  You’re worth twenty of May.  I think you are going to be a very handsome girl, Kate, and if you are only fed up properly, and dressed properly, so that the best points of your figure can be seen—­well—­now what’s the matter?”

“Only I won’t have you talking of me as if I were going to be put up to auction.”

“So you will be when you go to London.  All girls are.  The mothers are the auctioneers, and the young fellows come round and bid.  Good gracious, what a thunder-cloud!  What flashing eyes!  You’ll see what a famous auctioneer mother will make!  What is the matter, Kitty?”

“Nothing.  Good-night.  I’m going to bed.”

“Come back and kiss me first.  Poor little Kit!  Dear, handsome, fiery-spirited little Kit!  I say though, what a shabby frock you’ve got on!”

“Oh, don’t worry me, Loftie!  Any dress will do in the country.”

“Right, most prudent Catherine.  By the way, when did you say mother would come back?”

“Perhaps on Monday.”

“What did she go to Manchester for?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Well, I trust she will be back on Monday evening, for I am due at the Depot on Tuesday.  Lucky for me I got a week’s leave, but I didn’t mean to see it out.  It will be uncommonly awkward if I cannot get hold of the mater between now and Tuesday, Kate.”