“Look here,” exclaimed the young man, impatiently; “I’m tired and worried enough for one day. I’m going to bed.”
He started up, crossed to the side table, took a candle, and advancing to the lamp, was about to light it with a taper, when, to his surprise, his mother, who of late years had given up to him in everything, took candle and taper from his hands and pressed him back unresisting into his seat.
“Richard, you are not going to bed till you have heard what I have to say.”
“I tell you I’m worn out and worried!” he exclaimed.
“You were not too tired to go out and keep engagements,” said Mrs Glaire, firmly.
“Who told you I had been out to keep engagements?” retorted Richard, sharply.
“My heart, Richard,” said his mother. “I know as well as if I had seen you that you have been to-night to meet Daisy Banks.”
“What stuff, mother!”
“As you have often been to meet her, Richard; tell me, do you wish to marry her?”
“I marry that hoyden—that workman’s daughter! Mother, are you mad?”