“Well, some folks has luck, but I ain't one of 'em,” grumbled Tom.
“Your luck is coming, I hope, Tom.”
“I wish it would come pretty soon, then; I say, suppose your folks won't let you take the place?” he asked, suddenly, brightening up.
“They won't oppose it.” “I thought they wanted you to go to college.”
“I can't afford it. It would take too long before I could earn anything, and I ought to be helping the family.”
“I'm goin' to look out for number one,” said Tom, shrugging his shoulders. “That's all I can do.”
Tom's mother was a hard-working woman, and had taken in washing for years. But for her the family would often have lacked for food. His father was a lazy, intemperate man, who had no pride of manhood, and cared only for himself. In this respect Tom was like him, though the son had not as yet become intemperate.
“I don't think there is any chance of my giving up the place,” answered Grant. “If I do, I will mention your name.”
“That's a good fellow.”
Grant did not volunteer to recommend Tom, for he could not have done so with a clear conscience. This omission, however, Tom did not notice.