He went to the door and came back.
“Prothasy,” he said, with something like appeal in his voice, “that is a comely little lad.”
“Ay, Elyas.”
“What will become of him when his father is dead?”
“Thou hadst best seek out some of his kin.”
It was not the answer he wished for, yet, as always, it carried sense with it; he hesitated before he spoke again.
“If he would be a stone-cutter?”
“Thou hast two apprentices already.”
“Ay, but a fatherless child—”
“Elyas, thou wilt never learn prudence. All would come upon thee.”