There was a fresh fit of the sobbing crying. Molly burst out,--"I
don't think Mr. Roger should have told; he had no need to begin so
soon about his brother's failure. Why, he hasn't been in the house an
hour!"
"Hush, hush, love!" said Mrs. Hamley. "Roger is so good. You don't
understand. The squire would begin and ask questions before Roger had
tasted food--as soon as ever we had got into the dining-room. And all
he said--to me, at any rate--was that Osborne was nervous, and that
if he could only have gone in for the Chancellor's medals, he would
have carried all before him. But Roger said that after failing like
this, he is not very likely to get a fellowship, which the Squire had
placed his hopes on. Osborne himself seemed so sure of it, that the
squire can't understand it, and is seriously angry, and growing more
so the more he talks about it. He has kept it in two or three days,
and that never suits him. He is always better when he is angry about
a thing at once, and doesn't let it smoulder in his mind. Poor, poor
Osborne! I did wish he had been coming straight home, instead of
going to these friends of his; I thought I could have comforted him.
But now I'm glad, for it will be better to let his father's anger
cool first."
So talking out what was in her heart, Mrs. Hamley became more
composed; and at length she dismissed Molly to dress for dinner, with
a kiss, saying,--
"You're a real blessing to mothers, child! You give one such pleasant
sympathy, both in one's gladness and in one's sorrow; in one's
pride (for I was so proud last week, so confident), and in one's
disappointment. And now your being a fourth at dinner will keep
us off that sore subject; there are times when a stranger in the
household is a wonderful help."
Molly thought over all that she had heard, as she was dressing
and putting on the terrible, over-smart plaid gown in honour of
the new arrival. Her unconscious fealty to Osborne was not in the
least shaken by his having come to grief at Cambridge. Only she was
indignant--with or without reason--against Roger, who seemed to have
brought the reality of bad news as an offering of first-fruits on his
return home.
She went down into the drawing-room with anything but a welcome to
him in her heart. He was standing by his mother; the Squire had not
yet made his appearance. Molly thought that the two were hand in hand
when she first opened the door, but she could not be quite sure. Mrs.
Hamley came a little forwards to meet her, and introduced her in so
fondly intimate a way to her son, that Molly, innocent and simple,
knowing nothing but Hollingford manners, which were anything but
formal, half put out her hand to shake hands with one of whom she had
heard so much--the son of such kind friends. She could only hope he
had not seen the movement, for he made no attempt to respond to it;
only bowed.