The agony of earnestness brought both man and woman to his side.
"Now, now!" commanded Matilda, pushing him back on the pillow; "nothing is ever gained by using yourself up in this shallow fashion."
"But I've got to go!" Sandy urged breathlessly; "I started out to go. I saved ever since I was seven years old to get away—and at last I fixed on—Massachusetts because they let you work for your learning there—and I've got to get it—get learning!"
"Come! come!" Levi asserted himself—"just you calm down. But if it will ease your mind any I'll tell you this much, lad. We've got it all fixed up amongst us—and if you want to go to Massachusetts and try your hand at your luck, you're going to be given an opportunity. Now, let go that grip on the arms of your chair! Matilda, get some broth; get——"
But he stopped short. The look in Sandy's eyes held him. Levi Markham often said afterward that the expression on the boy's face at that moment gave him a "turn." It was no boy-look; it was the command from all that had gone to the making of Sandy; command that the boy be dealt fairly with at last.
"I'm a hard man, Matilda," Markham said later, when Sandy had let go the grip of his chair, taken his broth and fallen exhaustedly to sleep; "I'm a hard man who has hewn his own way up, but I hope I'm a just man, and I declare before God I wouldn't dare play unfairly with the lad. He's not the first fellow I've put upon his feet; some have toppled over; some have gone ahead of me and given me the cold shoulder afterward—a few have stood by me in the mills—this youngster shall have a try to prove that look on his face."
So it was that ten days later the Markhams, with their "po' white trash," left The Forge—Bob rebelliously struggling in the baggage car. A certain piece of land high up among the hills had been purchased by Markham and the deed rested secure in his pocket. He knew what he was about, and if a certain fool of a boy thought well of a proposition to be made to him—there might be a future for himself and others later on.
"It's a great factory site," Markham had written home to his lawyer; "plenty of water and power. Land as rich as if it was just made, and labour aching to be utilized—not exploited."
The journey to Massachusetts was taken in slow stages—Sandy and Bob complicated matters.
"You—think, sir, my money will—hold out?" Sandy once asked wearily.