“It is hard, Tom,” gasped George; “it is bitter hard; but I shall find a little bit of manhood by and by to do my duty. Give me breath! only give me breath! We will go back again where we came from, Tom; only I shall have nothing to work for now. Where is William, if you please? Has he forgotten me, too?”
“William is in prison for debt,” said old Merton, gravely.
“No, he is not,” put in Meadows, “for I sent the money to let him out an hour ago.”
“You sent the money to let my brother out of jail? That sounds queer to me. I suppose I ought to thank you, but I can't.”
“I don't ask your thanks, young man.”
“You see, George,” said old Merton, “ours is a poor family, and it will be a great thing for us all to have such a man as Mr. Meadows in it, if you will only let us.”
“Oh, father, you make me blush,” cried Susan, beginning to get her first glimpse of his character.
“He doesn't make me blush,” cried George; “but he makes me sick. This old man would make me walk out of heaven if he was in it. Come, let us go back to Australia.”
“Ay, that is the best thing you can do,” cried old Merton.
“If he does, I shall go with him,” said Susan, with sudden calmness. She added, dropping her voice, “If he thinks me worthy to go anywhere with him.”