Bob wished it had just then. Anything would be easier than to tell his mother he had taken it out to bet on horse-racing, for she had warned him against this only a few weeks before.
She had heard nothing of the matter since, and so she supposed that he had kept his promise, and had given up all games of chance as she had begged he would.
To hear therefore that he had drawn out all this little store of money to bet on the races was a cruel blow to her, and she dropped in her chair as though she had been shot when she heard it.
"Oh, mother, don't cry," said Bob, bursting into tears himself, and trying to draw her apron down from her eyes. "Don't, mother, don't," he pleaded.
But the poor woman felt too heart-broken to dry her tears at once, and for a few minutes the two cried together.
"Oh, Bob, I have been so proud of you," she managed to say at last; "I have told everybody what a good, steady lad you were, never giving me any trouble, but always ready to give me a helping hand with a basket of clothes when you came home, and never spending any of your money on yourself, but just saving up your overtime money to buy me a warm shawl for the winter. And then for you to tell me you've just been and done the very thing I asked you not to do. Oh dear, oh dear! What will happen next?"
And the poor woman burst into a fresh flood of tears over the downfall of her hopes in her only son.
"Mother, you'll just break my heart if you go on like that," sobbed Bob; "say you'll forgive me, and I'll never bet on horses again, and I'll never play pitch-and-toss any more, and I'll go to evening-school and see if I can't learn to write better, and do sums quicker."
Bob knew how anxious his mother was for him to go to Sunday-school again, but hitherto, he had resisted all her persuasions for fear his companions at the warehouse should find out that he had gone back, after telling them he had left.
To hear, therefore, that Bob would conquer his pride and the fear of his companions' ridicule made the poor woman more hopeful for her boy's future. "Not that I'm the only one you've grieved, Bob," said Mrs. Ronan, wiping her eyes and looking straight at her son. "I hope you don't forget that you've grieved God a good deal more than you have me, badly as I feel about it."