"I haven't thought much about it, mother. I suppose I should go when ordered, as a matter of course; I have nothing else to do." "That need not be a reason. There is plenty to do without waiting for promotion in the navy till you are gray." "Why, mother, you know I have no profession, and, I suppose I may say, no money. At least, the Squire made no provision for me that I know of, and I'm sure you cannot wish me to live on your 'thirds.'" "My son, you should have some confidence in my advice, by this time. It doesn't require a great fortune to live comfortably here." "Yes, but it is deused dull in this old town. No theatre,--no concert,--no music at all, but from organ-grinders,--no parties,--nothing, in fact, but prayer-meetings from one week's end to another. I should die of the blues here." "Only find something to do, settle yourself into a pleasant home, and you'll forget your uneasiness." "That's very well to say"---- "And very easy to do. But it isn't the way to begin by flirting with every pretty, foolish girl you see. Oh, Hugh! you are all I have now to love. I shall grow old soon, and I want to lean upon you. Give up the navy; be advised by me." Hugh whistled softly. He did not suppose that his mother knew of his gallantry. He was amused at her sharp observation. "So you think I'm a flirt, mother?" said he. "You are out, entirely. I'm a pattern of propriety at home!" "You need not tell me, Hugh! I know more than you think. But I didn't know that a son of mine could be so simple as I find you are." "She's after me," thought Hugh. "She saw me, surely." His mother went on. "With such an opportunity as you have to get yourself a wife----Don't laugh! I want to see you married, for you will never sow your wild oats until you are. With such a chance as you have"---- "Why, mother," broke in Hugh, "it isn't so bad as that." "Isn't so bad? What do you mean?" "Why, _you_ know what you're driving at, and so do I. Lucy is a good girl enough, but I never meant anything serious. There's no need of my marrying her." "What _are_ you talking about?" "Now, mother, what's the use? You are only trying to read me a moral lecture, because I gave Lucy a harmless smack." "Lucy Ransom!" repeated Mrs. Kinloch, with ineffable scorn. "Lucy Ransom! I hope my son isn't low enough to dally with a housemaid, a scullion! If I _had_ seen such a spectacle, I should have kept my mouth shut for shame. 'A guilty conscience needs no accuser'; but I am sorry you had not pride enough to keep your disgusting fooleries to yourself." "Regularly sold!" muttered Hugh, as he beat a rat-tattoo on the window-pane.