’Oh, my hat! I simply couldn’t, and when he could fight, too!’ No, I don’t think the monastic life is the one for Ross. So poor Aunt Constance, being a soldier’s daughter, eats her heart out because her Eustace cannot see his way to fight and pray. Well, it’s a funny throw-back. Aunt Amelia acknowledged my letter telling her of my plans in thoroughly characteristic fashion. There is a good bit about the Devil in her epistle. She thinks ’one’s days might better be occupied these solemn times than in amassing possessions and lands, marrying and giving in marriage’; but Michael and I are married, and it’s only one house, and as to land, two acres and a cow is considered a minimum, and I’ve left out the cow. She ’hopes that the Vicar is faithful, and wears a black gown,’ that the Gidger is showing signs of grace, and that I have been able to purge from the child’s young mind the recollection of that dreadful recitation, taught her by some ungodly friend of her poor afflicted nephew. ’Does she mean me?’ asked Ross indignantly. ’Yes, you’re the afflicted one, and Captain Everard is the person who——’ ’Well, old Everard does know some tales, I admit,’ said Ross, ’but go on.’ ’Oh, I can’t bear to read any more of it out.’ I threw the letter at him. ’Why does she always spell devil with a capital "D"? I should have thought the smallest she could write was good enough for that old beast,’ remarked my brother as he handed the missive back. *CHAPTER XIV* I don’t know if the day in London was too much for Ross, but he had a bad ’go’ of pain in the night and cussed with great enthusiasm after breakfast because he couldn’t light his own pipe. Somehow he cannot strike a match with his left hand, though heaps of men do it, I believe. Half an hour after the outburst Sam appeared with a vase filled with spills. ’Why these funny things?’ said Ross, picking one up. ’Spills, sir, light them at the fire, sir; can’t get matches.’ ’Oh,’ said Ross, and tried one. ’Why, Sam, this is a brain wave. I can light my own pipe.’ ’Can you, sir,’ said Sam, going away contented. He is so thoughtful in those little ways. He gives Ross such a very perfect service. Sam never attempts to serve two masters. He is wholehearted for his one. After lunch Ross said that he didn’t feel up to going out, and that his "Rev. Mother" wanted him to lie down and take some soothing syrup. ’And are you going to?’ I asked. ’Of course I’m not. Do you think I always do what Brown says. The ’Rev. Mother’s’ the one that will do the lying down,’ said my brother grimly.