Tom frowned and looked at his mother, and then down at the jacket he was wearing. "This will do for Dick when I have done with it," he said, "I shan't want to take this with me."
"Why not?" asked his father. "That will do for you to wear at first, till we see how you are likely to get on, and then—"
"Perhaps you won't like it, and will want to come home again," put in Polly mischievously.
"That's a girl's notion," said Tom scornfully. "Of course you would cry for your mother before a week was over, but boys are different."
"What do you know about it? You have never been away from home in your life, so how can you tell?" retorted his sister.
"Now, don't begin quarrelling, Polly," said her father. "Tom won't be at home much longer, so try and be civil to each other while you are together. I think you had better go with me to the tailor's in the morning, my boy, for I daresay your mother has enough to do to get your shirts and such things ready, and I shall be able to spare an hour or two to-morrow. When the tea things are cleared away, you had better sit down and write a letter to your uncle, and I will put a note in for myself; but you must thank him for taking all this trouble for you, and tell him you will be at Paddington Station next Wednesday evening as he wishes."
So when Polly had put the tea things away, Tom brought out pen and ink to write to his uncle, while his mother sat down to finish the shirt she had been making for him.
It was quite an event, not only to the family, but to the whole village, for Tom and all the family were born in the place, and his father and mother only came from the next village when they were married. And so to hear that Tom was going to London to live with his Uncle George, and settle down there, caused quite a stir among the neighbours, and every boy in the place envied him his good luck, and wished they had his chances of getting on in the world.
On all sides the blacksmith and his wife were congratulated on Tom's prospects, for he was going to live with his uncle who had no children of his own, and therefore could well afford to look after his nephew.
The rest of the week was busy enough, not only for Polly and her mother, but Dick was pressed into the service too, for none could do enough for the boy who was so soon going away to the world of London.