“I think so,” said the vicar. “But his mother was almost abusive because I suggested it.”
He spoke in an injured tone.
“What does she care for her children’s welfare?” said the invalid. “Their wages is all her concern.”
“I suppose she wanted him at home with her,” said Miss Louisa.
“Yes, she did—at the expense of his learning to be a drunkard like the rest of them,” retorted her mother.
“George Durant doesn’t drink,” defended her daughter.
“Because he got burned so badly when he was nineteen—in the pit—and that frightened him. The Navy is a better remedy than that, at least.”
“Certainly,” said the vicar. “Certainly.”
And to this Miss Louisa agreed. Yet she could not but feel angry that he had gone away for so many years. She herself was only nineteen.