"A young man must take his chance about that," replied Beaumont satirically. "Of course Blake will be with me and for my own sake I will do my best to keep him out of harm's way; but you surely don't want him to stay in this village all his life, wrapped up in cotton wool?" "I'm not in the habit of being wrapped up in cotton wool," cried Reginald, piqued at the artist's tone, "and I daresay if I was in London I could look after myself without anybody's help." "I've no doubt you could," replied Beaumont cordially, "all I offer you is assistance. Now what do you say, Dr. Larcher?" "At present, I can say nothing," answered the vicar slowly. "Reginald is as dear to me as if he was my own son, and the choice of a career is not lightly to be decided upon. I had hoped he would become a curate, and then there would have been no necessity for his leaving me." "I don't think I would have made a good curate," said Blake shaking his head, "and though I love this dear old village very much, yet I want to see a little of the world--my voice is my only talent, so the sooner I make use of it the better." "_Quod adest memento componere aquus_," quoted the vicar significantly. "_Dum loquimur, fugerit invida ætas_," replied Reginald quickly. "Fairly answered," said the vicar with a half sigh. "Yes, I suppose you must take advantage of flying time and it is no use for you to waste your life in idleness. Would you like to be a singer?" "I think so," said Blake after a pause. "Of course I am anxious to make my own way in the world, and unless I make use of my one talent I do not see how I am to do so." "I wish I had your one talent," observed Beaumont, rather enviously; "I would not rail against fate--well Doctor Larcher, and what is your decision?" "I cannot give it to you now," said the old man rising, "it is too important a matter to be dismissed lightly. I will let you have an answer in a few days. Still, Mr. Beaumont, I must thank you for your kind intentions regarding Reginald." "Only too glad to be of service," replied Beaumont, with a bow. "Meantime," said the vicar genially, "you must stop and have some dinner with us." "Delighted," responded Beaumont, and went away with Reginald, very well satisfied with the result of the interview. After dinner, hearing that a visitor was in the house Mrs. Larcher, who had been lying down all day under the influence of "The Affliction," made her appearance and greeted Beaumont with great cordiality. "So pleased to see you," she said graciously, when she was established on the sofa amid a multiplicity of wraps and pillows; "quite a treat to have some one to talk to." "Come, come, my dear, this is rather hard upon us," said the vicar good-humouredly. "I mean some one new," explained Mrs. Larcher graciously. "I am so fond of company, but owing to my affliction see very, very few people; it's a great deprivation to me I assure you."