"I should think she was rather. She has been working like a brick all day," returned Martin.
There was a little silence, during which Mrs. Bransby dried her eyes, put up her dishevelled hair, and replaced her cap.
"Ought you not to go to bed, my boy?" she said, looking wistfully at him.
"I want to stay and talk to you quietly a little, mother."
Mrs. Bransby hesitated. "I should dearly like you to stay awhile, Martin," she answered; "but I'm afraid it would not be right. You look pale and worn out. You and I must help each other now to do what is right;—and what—what he would have wished," she added with quivering lips.
"Yes, mother," answered the boy eagerly. "That's just what I want; and I know he would have wished me to spare you all the bother I can. So now just listen, mother; indeed, indeed I couldn't sleep if I went to bed now—and it's far wearier work to lie awake than to sit up and talk. Look here, mother; Theodore has offered to send me to school, hasn't he?"
"Yes, Martin. I am very thankful for that. I don't see how I could have afforded it."
"Well, but now, I've been thinking that it would be better if Theodore would give you that money, instead of paying for my schooling, and for me to get a situation and earn something."
"Earn! My darling boy, how could you earn anything?"
"Why, mother, I could do all that the office boy did at Oldchester. Old Tuckey told me once that he earned fifteen shillings a-week. Just fancy, mother! That's a good lot, isn't it?"