“Come, missis,” said my father, “we must have another pot, for I drank deep, and Ben has been shared out.” My mother very graciously sent for another pot of porter, which, with the newspaper, occupied Ben and my father till it was time for us to break up and go to bed.
The next morning when I went down I found Virginia alone, my mother having returned to her room.
“Tom,” said she, “what do you think my mother said to me when we were going to bed last night?”
“Tell me.”
“She said, ‘Tom says he don’t know what to do with his money. I only wish I had it; I would turn it into three times the sum in three years, and have a better home for you, my dear.’”
“Did she say how?”
“Yes, I asked her how; she said that she should take a new house with a shop up the town, and set up as a milliner, with apprentices; that, as soon as she was fairly employed, she should give up getting up fine linen, and only take in laces to wash and mend, which was a very profitable business.”
“Well,” says I, “Virginia, my mother is a hard-working woman, and a clever woman, and I dare say she would do very well, and, as she says she would have a better home for you, I think I shall let her have the money; but I won’t say so yet. I must talk about it to Peter Anderson, and if he don’t say no, she shall have it with pleasure.”
“That will be very kind of you, Tom; and I hope mother will feel it, for you don’t owe her much.”
“Never mind that; after breakfast I’ll see Peter Anderson: don’t say a word about it till I come back.”