Giles ran off to see his rabbits, and Jingles was left alone walking with Arminell.
"I suppose you are not burdening Giles with many lessons, now that he is convalescent?" said the girl.
"No, her ladyship does not wish him to be pressed. He is still heavy in his head with cold."
"Well," said Arminell, "I did not come here to talk about Giles, so we will dismiss him from our conversation. I have been considering this miserable matter, and I want to know what action you purpose taking on it."
"I also," said the tutor, "have been revolving the matter in my head, and I have resolved to leave Orleigh as soon as possible, and to ask my uncle, Mr. James Welsh, my mother's brother, to assist me to enter a literary career."
"Literary career! in what branch?"
"I intend to write for the press, I mean for the papers. Mr. Welsh lives by his profession, and I will do the same."
"That must be more interesting than teaching little boys Mensa—mensæ, Dominus—domini."
"The press is the sceptre that now rules the world, and I will wield it."
"Oh, how I envy you!" said Arminell. "You are about to do something, something worth the labour, something the thought of which kindles ambition. You will escape out of this wearisome round of hum-drum into the world of heroic action. Here is my lord spending his life in petty duties as he regards them, and has no result at the end to show; my lady thinking, planning, executing, and also with no result appearing; and I, wasting my time practising at the piano, running my voice over scales, doing a little sketching, reading odds and ends, picking flowers—and nothing can come of it all. We are made for more serious work."
"I believe," said Jingles, "that the writer of leaders exercises more power, because he appeals to a wider circle, than even the member of Parliament. One out of every
