He was growing more and more embarrassed. Evidently the man had something he wished to say, something to which he had been leading up by this disclosure of his domestic affairs; but he could not utter his thoughts. Topham tried the commonplaces naturally suggested by the situation; they were received with gratitude, but still Mr. Wigmore hung his head and talked vaguely, with hesitations, pauses.
'I've always been what one may call serious-minded, Mr. Starkey. As a boy I liked reading, and I've always had a book at hand for my leisure time—the kind of book that does one good. Just now I'm reading The Christian Year. And since my daughters married—well, as I tell you, Mr. Starkey, I've done pretty well in business—there's really no reason why I should keep on in my shop, if I chose to—to do otherwise.'
'I quite understand,' interrupted Topham, in whom there began to stir a thought which made his brain warm. 'You would like to retire from business. And you would like to—well, to pursue your studies more seriously.'
Again Wigmore looked grateful, but even yet the burden was not off his mind.
'I know,' he resumed presently, turning his hat round and round, 'that it sounds a strange thing to say, but—well, sir, I've always done my best to live as a religious man.'
'Of that I have no doubt whatever, Mr. Wigmore.'
'Well, then, sir, what I should like to ask you is this. Do you think, if I gave up the shop and worked very hard at my studies—with help, of course, with help,—do you think, Mr. Starkey, that I could hope to get on?'
He was red as a peony; his voice choked.
'You mean,' put in Topham, he, too, becoming excited, 'to become a really well-educated man?'
'Yes, sir, yes. But more than that. I want, Mr. Starkey, to make myself—something—so that my daughters and my sons-in-law would never feel ashamed of me—so that their children won't be afraid to talk of their grandfather. I know it's a very bold thought, sir, but if I could—'