She hesitated and, before she spoke, Colton broke in.
“Why not? That was what you were going to say, Mrs. Paine, I take it. That is what I said—why not? And I say it again. Paine, that offer is still open.”
I shook my head. “I told you then that I could not accept,” I said. “It is impossible.”
“Why is it impossible? So far as I am concerned I believe you would be a mighty good investment.”
“Impossible,” I said again.
“Nothing is impossible. We won't waste words. I am going to be plain and I think Mrs. Paine will excuse me. You think you should not leave your mother, perhaps. I understand that reason. It would be a good one, except that—well, that it isn't good any longer. Your mother is much better than she was. Quimby—her doctor and mine—says so. I shall see that she is well looked after. If she needs a nurse she shall have one, the best we can get. Oh, be still and let me finish! You can talk afterward. You're not going so far away. New York isn't the end of the earth; it is only the center, or it thinks it is. You'll be in close touch with Denboro all the time and you can come here whenever you want to. Now will you take my offer?”
“No.”
“Young man, if I didn't know there were brains inside that head of yours I should think it was, as the boys say, solid ivory. Confound you! Here, Mrs. Paine,” turning to Mother, “you take him in hand. Tell him he must come with me.”
“Mother—” I protested. He cut my protest short.
“Tell him,” he ordered.