“The more fool you. She goes out to-night.”
“If she goes,” Wint cried, “I go with her. You can do as you please.”
For a little after that, there was silence in the room. Wint stood in the doorway, head high and eyes hot. His father faced him. His mother stood by her chair, across the room, her lips moving soundlessly. It was she who first found voice. She came toward Wint in a clumsy, stumbling little run; and she caught his arms, and she pleaded with him.
“Don’t you do that, Wint. Don’t you. Don’t go away and leave us again. We’re getting old, sonny. Your father and I. Your old mother. Don’t you go away. We’d.... We couldn’t ever stand it again. We—”
Wint said gently: “I don’t want to go. I want to stay at home here with you both, and be proud of you, and love you.”
“You shall stay,” she told him. “You shall. Anything you want, Wint, sonny. I don’t care whether you did it or not. I’ll be good to her. I will, Wint. If you’ll stay—”
The boy said, half abashed: “I don’t want to seem to drive you to it. Only—I’ve promised her. I can’t break my word to her. Please, can’t you see?”
“It’s all right,” his mother protested. “I’ll do anything.” She clutched her husband’s arm. “Tell him to stay, Winthrop,” she begged. “Don’t let him go away. We’ll take care of Hetty.”
Chase said: “You’re making lots of trouble for us, Wint.” He smiled a little unsteadily. “We’re too old for so much excitement. You’ll have to remember that. Remember to take care of us—as well as Hetty.”
Wint could not hold out. He said: “All right. I won’t go away. Do as you think best about Hetty. I hope you’ll let her—”