‘You will never make us see that,’ said Mrs. Sandford; ‘but I love the boys, bless them, for they’ve always been like brothers to you. And it is saying a deal for the rector and all of them that, though we are not just in their position, they have never hindered it nor made any difference, which they might have done; dear me, oh! yes, they might have done it, and nobody blamed them----’ ‘My dear,’ said the old man, in a tone of warning. ‘Oh! yes, yes,’ cried grandmamma. ‘I know; I know----’ And she cried a little, and gave a stolen look at John such as he had caught many a day without ever understanding the meaning of it--a look in which there was something like pity, compassion, and indignation as well as love, as if somebody had wronged him deeply, though he did not know it, and she felt that nothing could ever be too good for him, too tender to make up for it--and yet that nothing ever would wipe out that wrong. All this in one glance is, perhaps, too much to believe in; but John saw it all confusedly, wondering, and not knowing what it could mean. Mr. Sandford cleared his throat again, and then it was he who began. ‘John,’ he said, ‘we think, and so does your mother think, that it is time to speak to you about what you are going to do----’ ‘Yes, grandfather,’ said John. He looked up with a little eagerness, as if he were quite ready and prepared, which, while it made matters much easier, gave the old people a little chill at the same time, as if the boy had been wanting to get away. ‘There is no hurry about it,’ the old gentleman said, closing up a little and drawing back into his seat. ‘But, grandfather,’ said John, ‘I’ve been thinking of it myself. Percy is going to the University after he’s finished at Marlborough: but I can’t do that. I can’t wait till I’m a man before getting to work. I know I’m not like them. Mr. Cattley has taken us--oh, I don’t mean us: me--as far as I have any need to go.’ ‘Why shouldn’t you say “us,” John?’ ‘Because Elly is a girl. She is more different still. She says her aunt will never let her go on when she comes back. And, it is thought, Mr. Cattley will get a living: so that’s just how it is, grandfather. I’ve been thinking the very same. As I’ve got to make my own way, it’s far better that I should begin.’ ‘Especially as the poor lad has no one behind him,’ said his grandmother, shaking her head. ‘I have you behind me,’ said John; ‘I’d like to know how a fellow could have anything better. And I’ve all the village behind me that know you and know me, though I’m not so much. What could I have more? I’ve only got to say I’m Mr. Sandford’s grandson, and, all this side of the county, everybody knows me. The Spencers have got greater relations, perhaps, but what could be better than that?’