“Because of its being a holiday, and because we’re going to make a fresh start in life over there in the woods.”
“Esau, my dear, don’t, pray don’t,” whimpered his mother. “It was bad enough sitting up for you all night, and you not coming, but it’s far worse when you will go on like that.”
“Come, sit down, Mr Gordon. I’m as hungry as can be. Why you know you went to sleep, mother.”
“I didn’t, my dear. I never had a wink all night for expecting you.”
“Well, how could I help it, mother? We should have been home safe enough if we hadn’t been locked up in a dun John.”
“Yes, and my boy in custody—in prison. Oh dear me! oh dear me!”
“Ah!” shouted Esau, striking the table hard with a spoon. “You dare to cry again, and I won’t eat a bit of supper.”
“But I can’t help it, Esau,” sobbed the poor little woman; “I declare I’ve been seeing nothing but policemen and prison vans ever since you told me where you had been.”
“All comes o’ getting into bad company, mother,” said Esau, cutting the steaming steak pie. “There; that’s an extra spoonful o’ gravy for you if you promise not to cry.”
He passed a plate to where his mother sat, and began to help me.