“Ah, yes,” he said, “Fred, it’s fine times for you now, my boy. But you must remember that life is not made up of bumps and bump-suppers, and that there are worse things than a proctor waiting for you, perhaps, round the next corner. I don’t want you not to play--but you must learn to work a little, too.”
“All right, father,” said Fred; “I’ll pull through. I sha’n’t disgrace the old house.”
“No,” said Mr. Dalyell. “I don’t suppose you will: but you might perhaps go a little farther than that.”
“I didn’t think,” said Fred, surprised, “that you intended me to do more than a good pass. I never supposed there was--any need for hard work.”
“Need? I never said there was need: but it does a young fellow good to be thought to work: even if it does no more it does that. It’s well for you to be thought to work, Fred.”
“If that’s all,” said the young man, “I don’t fancy I want to get a reputation in that way.”
“Then you’re a silly boy,” said his father. “It’s a capital thing to have a good reputation. You don’t know what it might do for you.”
“Well,” said the lad, with a laugh, “I don’t fancy that matters so much, so long as you do everything for me, father.”
“That’s just the point, Fred. That’s what I wanted to show you. I sha’n’t always be here to do everything for you.”
“Why,” said Fred, “you’re almost as young as I am!”
“I’m not particularly old: but no man’s life is secure, however young he may be; it’s not to be lippened to, as old Janet says. You ought to contemplate what your position would be if I were taken away. Think what happens to many a young fellow, Fred, whose father dies--perhaps just when he is where you are: and he has to stop all his pleasant ways and turn to, perhaps to work for his mother and the rest, perhaps only to look after them and take care of them--but at all events to be the head of the family instead of a careless boy.” Mr. Dalyell had stopped in his walk to enforce what he said, which was a way he had. “I’ve known a boy of your age,” he said, “that had to give up everything, and go into an office, and work like a slave: instead of your bump-suppers, Fred.”
“I’ve heard of such a thing myself,” said Fred; “though you don’t think much of my experience, father. It happened to Surtees of New, a fellow a little senior to me. It was awfully hard upon him. He would have been in the ‘eight’ if he had stayed another year. What he felt most was leaving the ‘Varsity without getting his blue. But,” added the lad, “if it matters about what people think, as you were saying, he was thought no end of for it. He went abroad, I think, to look after some business there.”