At the end, he pushed the paper into the boy's
hand, and said, "No, that isn't good enough, you know; it's all too
casual--it isn't a bit like Latin: you don't do me credit!" He
spoke incisively enough, but shook his head with a smile. The boy
said nothing, but got up, vaguely smiling, and holding the cat
tucked under his arm--a charming picture of healthy and indifferent
youth. Then he said in a rich infantile voice, "Oh, it's all right.
I didn't do myself justice this time. You shall see!"
At this moment the old servant came in and asked Howard if he would
take lunch.
"Yes; I won't go into Hall," said Howard. "Lunch for two--you can
stay and lunch with me, Jack; and I will give you a lecture about
your sins."
The boy said, "Yes, thanks very much; I'd love to."
Jack Sandys was a pupil of Howard's in whom he had a special
interest. He was the son of Frank Sandys, the Vicar of the
Somersetshire parish where Mrs. Graves, Howard's aunt, lived at the
Manor-house. Frank Sandys was a cousin of Mrs. Graves' deceased
husband. She had advised the Vicar to send Jack to Beaufort, and
had written specially commending him to Howard's care. But the boy
had needed little commendation. From the first moment that Jack
Sandys had appeared, smiling and unembarrassed, in Howard's room, a
relation that was almost filial and paternal had sprung up between
them. He had treated Howard from the outset with an innocent
familiarity, and asked him the most direct questions.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26