“Dear me! so you’ve been in a man-of-war, and in France; then you don’t know how your poor mother is?”
“Have you not inquired, my dear father?”
“No, I thought you would come home, and tell me all about it,” replied Nicholas with a sigh.
“How have you got on here?” said Newton, to change the conversation.
“Very bad indeed, Newton—very bad indeed; I have not had six jobs since you left me.”
“I am sorry to hear it, father; have you any thing to eat in the house, for I am very hungry?”
“I am afraid not much,” replied Nicholas, going to the cupboard, and producing some bread and cheese. “Can you eat bread and cheese, my dear boy?”
“I could eat a horse, my dear father,” replied Newton, who had walked the last twelve hours without sustenance.
Newton attacked the provender, which soon disappeared.
“I have been obliged to sell most of the shop furniture,” said Nicholas, observing Newton to cast his eyes at the empty window. “I could not help it. I believe nobody wears spectacles in Liverpool.”