‘Did I?’ said Jane.
‘Yes—in hay-time—I mind it—I didn’t mind for long—but ’twas true. He had patience with me.’
The cough came on, and Jane knew she must go; her grandmother had bidden her not to stay if it were so, and she just ventured to squeeze Alfred’s hand, and then went down-stairs, checking her tears, to wish Matilda and Ellen good-bye; and as she passed by Paul, told him not to uncover his still very short-haired head, and kindly hoped he was better.
Paul, in his dreary feelings, hardly thought of Mr. Cope’s plan, till, as he was getting the letters ready for Harold, he turned up one in Mr. Cope’s writing, addressed to the ‘Rev. A. Shaw, Berryton, Elbury.’
‘That’s to settle for me, then,’ he said; and Harold who was at tea, asking, ‘What’s that?’ he explained.
‘Well,’ said Harold, ‘every one to his taste! I wouldn’t go to school again, not for a hundred pounds; and as to keeping school!’ (Such a face as he made really caused Paul to smile.) ‘Nor you don’t half like it, neither,’ continued Harold. ‘Come, you’d better stay and get work here! I’d sooner be at the plough-tail all day, than poke out my eyes over stuff like that,’ pointing to Paul’s slate, covered with figures. ‘Here, Nelly,’ as she moved about, tidying the room, ‘do you hear? Mr. Cope’s got an offer of a place for Paul—five pounds a year, and board and lodging, to be school-master’s whipper-in, or what d’ye call it?’
‘What do you say, Harold?’ cried Ellen, putting her hands on the back of a chair, quite interested. ‘You going away, Paul?’
‘Mr. Cope says so—and I must get my living, you know,’ said Paul.
‘But not yet; you are not well enough yet,’ said the kind girl. ‘And where did you say—?’
‘To Berryton.’