"I don't think he minds what I say to him in the least," said the
lady, with a sympathetic air, as if she pitied the doctor in a
matter that chiefly concerned him. "I will speak to him about it, of
course. Fighting is an unbearable habit. His father's people were
always fighting; and they never did any good in the world."
"If you will be so kind. There are just the three points: the
necessity for greater--much greater--application to his studies; a
word to him on the subject of rough habits; and to sound him as to
his choice of a career. I agree with you in not attaching much
importance to his ideas on that subject as yet. Still, even a boyish
fancy may be turned to account in rousing the energies of a lad."
"Quite so," assented the lady. "I will certainly give him a
lecture."
The doctor looked at her mistrustfully, thinking perhaps that she
herself would be the better for a lecture on her duties as a mother.
But he did not dare to tell her so; indeed, having a prejudice to
the effect that actresses were deficient in natural feeling, he
doubted the use of daring. He also feared that the subject of her
son was beginning to bore her; and, though a doctor of divinity, he
was as reluctant as other men to be found wanting in address by a
pretty woman. So he rang the bell, and bade the servant send Master
Cashel Byron. Presently a door was heard to open below, and a buzz
of distant voices became audible. The doctor fidgeted and tried to
think of something to say, but his invention failed him: he sat in
silence while the inarticulate buzz rose into a shouting of
"By-ron!" "Cash!" the latter cry imitated from the summons usually
addressed to cashiers in haberdashers' shops. Finally there was a
piercing yell of "Mam-ma-a-a-a-ah!" apparently in explanation of the
demand for Byron's attendance in the drawing-room. The doctor
reddened. Mrs. Byron smiled. Then the door below closed, shutting
out the tumult, and footsteps were heard on the stairs.
"Come in," cried the doctor, encouragingly.
Master Cashel Byron entered blushing; made his way awkwardly to his
mother, and kissed the critical expression which was on her upturned
face as she examined his appearance. Being only seventeen, he had
not yet acquired a taste for kissing. He inexpertly gave Mrs. Byron
quite a shock by the collision of their teeth. Conscious of the
failure, he drew himself upright, and tried to hide his hands, which
were exceedingly dirty, in the scanty folds of his jacket. He was a
well-grown youth, with neck and shoulders already strongly formed,
and short auburn hair curling in little rings close to his scalp. He
had blue eyes, and an expression of boyish good-humor, which,
however, did not convey any assurance of good temper.