I shall find plenty of time."
As Hamish had observed, there was little to do at the books, that
evening, and he soon left the parlour. Constance happened to be in the
hall as he crossed it, on his way to his bedroom. Judith, who appeared
to have been on the watch, came gliding from the half-opened kitchen
door and approached Constance, looking after Hamish as he went up the
stairs.
"Do you see, Miss Constance?" she whispered. "He is carrying the books
up with him, as usual!"
At this juncture, Hamish turned round to speak to his sister.
"Constance, I don't want any supper to-night, tell my mother. You can
call me when it is time for the reading."
"And he is going to set on at 'em, now, and he'll be at 'em till
morning light!" continued Judith's whisper. "And he'll drop off into
his grave with decline!--'taint in the nature of a young man to do
without sleep--and that'll be the ending! And he'll burn himself up
first, and all the house with him."
"I think I will go and speak to him," debated Constance.
"_I_ should," advised Judith. "The worst is, if the books must be done,
why, they must; and I don't see that there is any help for it."
But Constance hesitated, considerably. She did not at all like to
interfere; it appeared so very much to resemble the work of a spy.
Several minutes she deliberated, and then went slowly up the stairs.
Knocking at Hamish's door, she turned the handle, and would have
entered.
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