“Well, suppose they do trust me in that,” said Eph. “I can never rub out that I 've been in State's-prison.”
“You don't want to rub it out. You can't rub anything out that's ever been; but you can do better than rub it out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Take things just the way they are,” said Susan, “and show what can be done. Perhaps you 'll stake a new channel out for others to follow in, that haven't half so much chance as you have. And that's what you will do, too,” she added.
“Susan!” he said, “if there 's anything I can ever do, in this world or the next, for you or your folks, that's all I ask for,—the chance to do it. Your folks and you shall never want for anything while I'm alive.
“There's one thing sure,” he added, rising. “I'll live by myself and be independent of everybody, and make my way all alone in the world; and if I can make 'em all finally own up and admit that I'm honest with 'em, I'm satisfied. That's all I 'll ever ask of anybody. But there's one thing that worries me sometimes,—that is, whether I ought to come here so often. I 'm afraid, sometimes, that it 'll hinder your father from gettin' work, or—something—for you folks to be friends with me.”
“I think such things take care of themselves,” said Susan, quietly. “If a chip won't float, let it sink.”
“Good-night,” said Eph; and he walked off, and went home to his echoing house.
After that, his visits to Joshua's became less frequent.