There was an anxious note in her voice, and an extra trace of worry showed in her face, already lined with marks of care.
“Yes, I am home a bit early, Mother. I’m taking a sort of vacation you see. Came home to get you to go for a walk. It’s too soon for supper. Come on, we’ll walk over to the woods,” and once again Tom tried to put some gaiety into the tune he was whistling.
Mrs. Taylor shook her head.
“That isn’t the reason you came home so early, Tom,” she said, gently. “I know something has happened. Tell me!”
“It isn’t anything at all, Mother, really! Come on, we’ll go for a little walk, and then, when we come back, I’ll help you get supper. Come along.”
Again Mrs. Taylor shook her head.
“I’d like to come with you, Tom, you know that,” she said, “but I must finish this dress. Mrs. Leighton wants it to wear to-morrow, and if it isn’t done I’ll not get paid for it, and you know the interest is soon due. We must meet that.”
“Yes, I know,” and a frown passed over the lad’s face. “I wonder who invented interest, anyhow. It always comes at such an inconvenient time. Well, here’s something toward it, Mother,” and he took from his pocket a few bills and some change in silver.
“Oh, Tom! To-night isn’t pay night!” his mother exclaimed.
“It was—for me,” he said, and this time he smiled, for he saw a look of alarm, and almost of fear, come over his mother’s face, and he wanted to be as reassuring as possible.