Castleford said,
'May I ask, Winslow, if you have any plans for that poor boy?'
'Edward?' said my father, almost wilfully misunderstanding. 'His
ambition is to be curator of something in the British Museum, isn't
it?'
Mr. Castleford explained that he meant the other, and my father
sadly answered that he hardly knew; he supposed the only thing was
to send him to a private tutor, but where to find a fit one he did
not know and besides, what could be his aim? Sir John Griffith had
said he was only fit for the Church, 'But one does not wish to
dispose of a tarnished article there.'
'Certainly not,' said Mr. Castleford; and then he spoke words that
rejoiced my heart, though they only made my father groan, bidding
him remember that it was not so much actual guilt as the accident of
Clarence's being in the Navy that had given so serious a character
to his delinquencies. If he had been at school, perhaps no one
would ever have heard of them, 'Though I don't say,' added the good
man, casting a new light on the subject, 'that it would have been
better for him in the end.' Then, quite humbly, for he knew my
mother especially had a disdain for trade, he asked what my father
would think of letting him give Clarence work in the office for the
present. 'I know,' he said, 'it is not the line your family might
prefer, but it is present occupation; and I do not think you could
well send a youth who has seen so much of the world back to
schooling.
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