“And we do think of going, mother dear,” said Esau gently. “Come, try and look at it sensibly. I know you will not like me to go, and when it comes to the time, I shan’t like to leave you; but I’m such a sleepy-headed chap, I shall never get on here, and if I go over there it will wake me up.”
“But I couldn’t part with you, my boy,” cried Mrs Dean. “I should be all alone. What would become of me?”
“Why you’d go on just as you are, and I should send you home some money sometimes; and when I’ve made my fortune I shall come back and make a lady of you.”
“No, no, no,” she said, with the tears running down her cheeks; “I’d rather stop as we are, Esau.”
“Yes, but we can’t.”
“Yes, we can, dear. I’ve saved a few pounds now, and it only means working a little harder. I can keep you, and I’m sure—”
“Stop!” roared Esau huskily. “I’m ashamed of you, mother. Do you think I’m going to be such a sop of a fellow as to sit down here and let you keep me? I suppose you’ll want to keep Mr Gordon next.”
“Then you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, I’m sure, sir,” said the little woman tartly. “What’s enough for two’s enough for three, and I was going to say, when you went on like that, that if Mr Gordon wouldn’t mind, and not be too proud at things not being quite so plentiful, which everything should be clean as clean, it’s very, very welcome you’d be, my dear, for you never could have been nicer if you had been my own boy.”
“Mrs Dean,” I cried, with a curious feeling in my throat, while Esau looked at me searchingly, as if he thought I was going to accept the offer, “that is quite impossible. Neither Esau nor I could do that. Why, I should be ashamed even to think of it.”
“Oh no,” said Esau, sarcastically, “it’s all right. Let mother do the work, and we two will play at tops and marbles all day.”