"You were pretty soon undeceived, mother."
"No, not soon. Your stepfather had a good mercantile position in Boston, and we occupied a comfortable cottage in Newton. For some years all went well, but then I began to see a change for the worse in him. He became fond of drink, was no longer attentive to business, picked up bad associates, and eventually lost his position. This was when you were ten years of age. Then he took possession of my little capital and went into business for himself. But his old habits clung to him, and of course there was small chance of success. He kept up for about a year, however, and then he failed, and the creditors took everything——"
"Except this house, mother."
"Yes, this house was fortunately settled upon me, so that my husband could not get hold of it. When we were turned out of our home in Newton, it proved a welcome refuge for us. It was small, plain, humble, but still it gave us a home."
"It has been a happy home, mother—that is, ever since Mr. Brandon left us."
"Yes; we have lived plainly, but I have had you, and you have always been a comfort to me. You were always a good boy, Grit."
"I'm not quite an angel, mother. Ask Phil Courtney what he thinks about it," said Grit, smiling.
"He is a bad, disagreeable boy," said Mrs. Brandon warmly.
"So I think, mother; but Phil, on the other hand, thinks I am a low, vulgar boy, unworthy of associating with him."
"I don't want you to associate with him, Grit."