"It isn't likely she'd let you know about it. Bless you, I know your mother. She's one of the brave sort, who will carry the care herself and let the children have the pleasure. But if you see her worrying, tell her there's nothing to fear, for I never let out a word, though I came to the station to see you off, and so she won't be pestered for money down here."
Tom was puzzled, and felt somewhat hurt that his friend should think it possible that they could leave the neighbourhood without paying their debts.
"My mother would never do such a mean thing, however poor she might be," he said.
"All right, I'm glad of it, old fellow; only I have heard of such things being done, if you haven't. And I thought if your mother had been driven to do it, she shouldn't be bothered about it. Perhaps the fellow wanted to sell her a sewing machine," he added, by way of changing the subject; for he could see that Tom was pained at the bare suggestion of such a thing being done by his mother.
[CHAPTER XII.]
HERBERT MILNER.
"WHY, my boy, what have you got there?"
The question was asked by a lady, who looked up from doing some bright wool work, to gaze in astonishment at her son, as he set down a heavy Gladstone-bag upon the table.
It was a handsomely furnished room; and the lad, who seemed to be about fourteen or fifteen, did not seem much accustomed to carry heavy burdens, although he appeared pleased enough with this one.
"Feel it, mother!" he said, bringing it round to her side that she might lift it.