"He isn't a wounded hero," answered Janey, "he's only got a chill."
"Well, that's as bad as wounded, dear, and I am sure he would have been
wounded if he could." And so on.
"When are you going back to Cambridge, Anthony?" asked Mrs. Walrond
presently.
"To-morrow morning, I am sorry to say," he answered, and Barbara's face
fell at his words. "You see, I go up for my degree this summer term,
and my father is very anxious that I should take high honours in
mathematics. He says that it will give me a better standing in the Bar.
So I must begin work at once with a tutor before term, for there's no
one near here who can help me."
"No," said Mr. Walrond. "If it had been classics now, with a little
refurbishing perhaps I might. But mathematics are beyond me."
"Barbara should teach him," suggested one of the little girls slyly.
"She's splendid at Rule of Three."
"Which is more than you are," said Mrs. Walrond in severe tones, "who
always make thirteen out of five and seven. Barbara, love, you are
looking very tired. All this noise is too much for you, you must go
and lie down at once in your own room. No, not on the sofa, in your own
room. Now say good-bye to Anthony and go."
So Barbara, who was really tired, though with a happy weariness, did as
she was bid.
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