It was very foolish in Violet to laugh, and very wrong, too, she knew; but she could not help it. Jem's idea of the way to keep order was so absurd. David did not laugh. He looked anxious, and at a loss, and a little indignant at his sister's amus.e.m.e.nt.

"I beg your pardon, Davie. Let us just go on us usual," she entreated.

"Why should you mind?"

And so they did go on. They sung a hymn very well; at least, they sung with a great deal of spirit. There were some clear, sweet voices among the children, and they all seemed to enjoy singing so much it could not be otherwise than agreeable to those who were listening, and Violet did her best. Then David, very reverently, but not very firmly, took Mr Caldwell's duty upon himself, and offered a few words of prayer; and then the children repeated together the Lord's Prayer, and after that everything went well enough. David and Violet took their usual places, with their cla.s.ses round them, and Jem suggested to Mr Philip that he should take Mr Caldwell's rough-looking boys in hand "and give them a talk."

"Hear them repeat their verses, and tell them a story. You can do it as well as Mr C. Shall I tell them that you are the new minister?"

"Thank you. I will introduce myself. I ought to be able to say something to these young rascals. I hope they won't find me out."

He seemed to get on very well. Jem would have liked to get rid of the three little fellows for whom he was responsible, so as to hear what he was saying. The boys liked it, evidently; at least they listened with great interest; and one would have thought that Mr Philip was quite accustomed to the work, he did it so easily. The boys laughed more than once, and grew eager and a little noisy; but their teacher was perfectly grave and proper, and did not give Jem the shadow of an excuse for wishing to "knock him down." He congratulated him when it was all over.

"Yes; I flatter myself it was the right man in the right place this time," said Mr Philip. "You didn't think I could do as well as old Caldwell, did you."

Jem shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes, you could do it, once in a way, after a fashion, at any rate."

But though Jem spoke so coldly to Philip himself, he was enthusiastic in his praises of him when they were giving their mother the history of the afternoon after Frank had gone home.

"He can do anything, I think," said he. "He was not at a loss for a moment. I believe, if he had been put to it, he could have done the whole business as well as Davie did, and he did it very well."

David said nothing, but Violet repeated her opinion as to their new friend's want of earnestness.

"If it had been the most foolish thing in the world, he would have done it just as well, and just as willingly, if he had thought it was expected of him to do it."

"Are you not a little severe on him?" said her mother.

"No, mamma; I don't mean to be severe. He would think it a great compliment paid to him, though you don't think it nice. He does not look seriously at life. He amuses himself with everything. Just compare him with our Davie."

David had gone out before she said this.

"Nonsense! Letty. Our Davie is a boy still, and Mr Philip is a man.

He has completed the course at the university, you know quite well."

"Our Davie is far more manly than he, for all that. And so are you, Jem. Davie is worth two of him."

"A great deal more than two of him to us, Letty," said her mother, laughing. "Still, I am inclined to think with Jem, that you are a little hard on him."

"Yes, she does not like him," said Jem. "And it is odd, too, for he likes her, and you, mamma, and all of us."

"Oh! yes; I dare say he does. We amuse him for the moment. I know him better than you do, Jem. I have seen him every day for a fortnight, you know. I like him very well, but I don't think he is reliable. He is not in earnest," repeated Violet, solemnly. "And Sunday-school teaching is not a proper thing to amuse one's self with. It would spoil all the pleasure of it to have him come there always. However, there is no danger. He will find something else to amuse him."

Violet was right, as far as Philip's coming to Muddy Lane was concerned.

He did not make his appearance there again for a very long time after that Sunday. But, having nothing better to do, he seemed quite inclined to cultivate the acquaintance of the young Inglises, and came to the bridge house a good deal. Once or twice he brought his little sisters and Violet down in the boat to tea, and several times he came there after having been down the river fishing. Once or twice David, coming home earlier than the others, found him sitting quietly with his mother and little Mary, to all appearance perfectly satisfied with the entertainment he was receiving; and his entertainers seemed satisfied too. David began to consider these frequent visits as an infliction to be borne patiently, and Violet adhered to her first opinion; but, with Jem and the children, he was a great favourite. Even the mother was inclined to make excuses for his faults, and was very kind to him when he came. The mother knew more about him than the rest did, for he told her a great deal about himself and his past life during the quiet afternoons he pa.s.sed with her and little Mary. And having seen more, and suffered more, she was inclined to have more patience with his weaknesses than they.

It had been understood all along, that, as soon as Philip's course at the university was over, he was to take his place in his father's office, and to give all his time and thoughts to his father's business.

He had never been quite pleased with the idea, and had all along hoped that something might happen to render unnecessary a step so distasteful to him. Nothing had happened, and he was inclined to fancy that he was making a sacrifice to his father's business and his father's desire for wealth, and to claim sympathy because of this.

"And would you be a great help to your father?" asked Mrs Inglis, one day, when he had got thus far.

"I don't know. I am sure I don't think so, hating business as I do.

But he must think so, or he would not be so bent on my coming to the office and tying myself down. It will come to that, I dare say," said he, with a sigh.

Mrs Inglis smiled.

"Is it not possible that he may wish it for your sake rather than his own? And how do you know that you hate business? You have never given it a fair trial, have you?"

"No, I have not tried it steadily," said he, answering her last question first. "But then one can tell what one does not like without trying it very long. I dare say my father thinks it would be a good thing for me to fix myself at the bank. But a man must judge for himself before he submits to be tied down for life."

"But is it not possible that it is the tying down which is distasteful?

And every man must submit to be tied down to something. What would you like to do better."

"Oh! almost anything. I should like the profession of the law better."

And then he added, after a little, "I should like it better for one thing. I need not enter an office till the autumn."

"I am afraid it is the tying down that is the trouble, after all," said she.

"No, I a.s.sure you--not altogether--though, I acknowledge, it would be a fine thing to let business slide--to have nothing at all to do."

"I do not agree with you. I think it would be the very worst thing that could happen to you to have nothing to do," said Mrs Inglis, gravely.

"To me, especially, do you mean? Well, I don't quite mean that; but I think Mr Caldwell was right when he told my father that, if he had meant me for business, he should have put me to it long ago."

"Do you mean that you regret having been sent to the university?"

"I mean that I should have been fit for my work by this time, and, probably, content with it. A university is not needed there."

"You must not be angry with me if I say you are talking foolishly," said Mrs Inglis, "and, indeed, ungratefully, when you say that. Do you mean that your education will be a disadvantage to you?"

"No; except by making business distasteful to me. I mean, it has given me other interests and other tastes--something beyond the desire to make money."

"Doubtless, that was your father's intention--to make you an intelligent man as well as a banker--not a mere money-maker. And his wish ought to decide you to give the business of his office a fair trial, since you do not seem to have a preference for any other."

"I have a very decided preference for a trip across the country. Don't look grave, Aunt Mary. These are my holidays. By and by will be time to settle down to work."

"I thought you were no longer a schoolboy?"

"No, I am not; but I should like to go--to the Red River, perhaps. It would be a fine trip for Davie in his vacation, too, and its cost would be little--comparatively."

"Davie does not expect a vacation--or only a week or two."

"Davie is quite a steady old gentleman," said Philip.

Mrs Inglis smiled.

"I don't suppose you mean that quite as a compliment to my boy. I am very glad it is true, nevertheless."