"Of course not," he said: "I know that. I only mentioned it because I think
an illustration stamps a thing on people's memories."

"But, Percival," Mrs. Blake interposed, "I must say that in this I agree
with Mrs. Pickering. I do think it would be better if you had something to
do--I do indeed." She looked at him with an air of affectionate severity.
"I speak as your friend, you know." (Percival bowed his gratitude.) "I
really think young people are happier when they have a settled occupation."

"I dare say that is true, as a rule," he said.

"But you don't think you would be?" questioned Lottie.

He turned to her with a smile: "Well, I doubt it. Of course I don't know
how happy I might be if I had been brought up to a profession." He glanced
through the open window at the warm loveliness of June. "At this moment,
for instance, I might have been writing a sermon or cutting off a man's
leg. But, somehow, I am very well satisfied as I am."

"Oh, if you mean to make fun of it--" Mrs. Blake began.

"But I don't," Percival said quickly. "I may laugh, but I'm in earnest too.
I have plenty to eat and drink; I can pay my tailor and still have a little
money in my pocket; I am my own master. Sometimes I ride--another man's
horse: if not I walk, and am just as well content. I don't smoke--I don't
bet--I have no expensive tastes. What could money do for me that I should
spend the best years of my life in slaving for it?"

"That may be all very well for the present," said Mrs. Blake.