Marston carried the news at once to Roland.
“My lad,” he said, “that innings of yours is about the most useful thing that has ever happened to you in your life. The old man thinks so much of you he is prepared to cut me out of his will almost; at any rate, as far as I can make out, he is going to offer you a job in our business.”
“You will have to fix it up with him, of course, but he suggested to me that you and I should go out together to France in November, and you will be able to see the sort of way we do things, and then he will give you a shot on your own as representative. If you do well at it--well, my lad, you will be pretty well made for life!”
It was wonderful news for Roland. Life, at the very moment when it had appeared to be closing in on him, had marvelously broadened out. He returned home on the Monday morning, not only excited by the prospect of a new and attractive job, but moved irresistibly by this sudden vision of a world to which he was unaccustomed--by the charm, the elegance and the direct good-naturedness of this family life.
Roland said nothing to his people of Mr. Marston’s conversation with Gerald. He disliked scenes and an atmosphere of expectation. When everything was settled finally he would tell them, but he would not risk the exposure of his hope to the chill of disappointment. He could not, however, resist the temptation to confide in April. She was young; she could share his failures as his successes. Life was before them both.
No sooner had he turned the corner of the road than he saw the door of the Curtises’ house open. April was in the porch waiting for him. “She must have been looking for me,” he thought. “Sitting in the window-seat, hoping that I would come.” His pride as well as his affection was touched by this clear proof of her interest in him.
“I made a duck,” he answered; and his vanity noted that her brown eyes clouded suddenly with disappointment. “But that was only in the first innings,” he added.
“Oh, you pig!” she said, “and I thought that after all it had come to nothing.”
Roland laughed at the quick change to relief.
“But how do you know that I did do anything in the second innings?”
“‘Cos--oh, I don’t know. It’s not fair to tease me, Roland; tell me what happened.” They had passed into the hall, shutting the door behind them, and she pulled impatiently at his sleeve: “Come on, tell me.”