"No. I'm never going to leave you. I'm going to stay here, for you'll never get another man so cheap; and it suits me to stay—you need some one to look after you."
A curious soft look suddenly flashed into the tailor's eyes.
"Will you take on the business after I'm gone?" he asked at last. "It's along time to look ahead, I know," he added quickly, for not in words would he acknowledge the possibility of the end.
"I should think so," Charley answered, his eyes on the bright sun and the soft snow on the trees beyond the window.
The tailor snatched up a pattern and figured on it for a moment. Then he handed it to Charley. "Will that do?" he asked with anxious, acquisitive look, his yellow eyes blinking hard.
Charley looked at it musingly, then said "Yes, if you give me a room here."
"I meant board and lodging too," said Louis Trudel with an outburst of eager generosity, for, as it was, he had offered about one-half of what Charley was worth to him.
Charley nodded. "Very well, that will do," he said, and took off his coat and went to work. For a long time they worked silently. The tailor was in great good-humour; for the terrible trial was over, and he now had an assistant who would be a better tailor than himself. There would be more profit, more silver nails for the church door, and more masses for his soul.
"The Cure says you are all right. . . . When will you come here?" he said at last.
"To-morrow night I shall sleep here," answered Charley.