'The other half! What in the world do you mean, Tom?' 'I don't know that I am very clear about it myself, mother. But I think it will be good for me to have my fingers and the constructive side of my intelligence occupied.' Of course Mrs. Gregory argued the point. She had never heard of a Bracebridge being an architect. Even the Gregorys, so far as she could learn, had always belonged either to the army or to one of the clerical professions. Were architects gentlemen? Did they take a place in society? Could they make money? Her son quoted one or two great names out of ancient and modern history; but these did not satisfy her in the least. When he continued to urge his views she begged for time to consult their friends; but Tom would not hear of it. 'No, mother,' he said, 'this is a question for you and me, no one else. Can you put down the money'--he mentioned a comparatively small sum--'which will be necessary to bind me as an apprentice, and will you undertake to keep me for the next two years?' 'As to keeping you,' said the poor woman, tears filling her eyes, 'I should do that under any circumstances. What have I to live for but you? But----' 'Then, dearest mother, let us settle it so. In any case I shall not be losing my time. Every art acquired is an additional power and resource. If I find I am mistaken, if I wish to take up what you think a loftier walk of life, I can always do it; and, in the meantime, we are together.' Yes, they were together, that was the great sweetener of everything; and she was not one to do battle for ideal excellence, or to stand firm against well-sustained importunity. 'After all it is you, not I, who are choosing a profession,' she said feebly. 'And--and--you are not quite like others. If things come to the worst----' And here she broke off and set her lips together, as if she had a secret to guard. 'If things come to the worst,' said Tom, who was accustomed to these little breaks, and did not mind them, 'we should manage to battle it out somehow, little mother. I am not in the least afraid.' They arrived at this decision early in the spring. It was then that General Sir Wilfrid Elton, who was at home on a year's furlough from India, paid a visit to his old friend Mrs. Gregory, and fell in love with the cottage adjoining hers that had been empty since the previous summer. She was very frank in pointing out its deficiencies: the tumbledown condition of the fences and outhouses, the close neighbourhood of the river, the likelihood of damp. 'It would be pleasant to have neighbours,' she said wistfully, 'but I should be sorry for such old friends as Lady Elton and you to do anything so important with your eyes shut.' 'We shall certainly not do that,' said the General, with his hearty laugh. 'But consider the girls!' said Mrs. Gregory, a pink flush mounting to her face--the General was such a curiously quizzical man. 'This is a dull place for young people.'