“You go to New York—a boy of your age!” she exclaimed.
“I am old enough to take care of myself,” said Herbert, sturdily.
“A great city is a dangerous place.”
“It won't be dangerous for me. I shall be too busy—that is, if I get work—to fall into temptation, if that is what you mean.”
“I should miss you so much, Herbert, even if I knew you were doing well,” said his mother, pathetically.
“I know you would, mother; and I should miss you, too; but I can't live here always. If I do well in the city you can come and join me there.”
This was the first time Herbert broached the subject of going to New York. He resumed the attack the next day, and the next, and finally won his mother's consent to go for a week, and see whether he could find anything to do.
His mother's consent obtained, Herbert took but a day to make his preparations. The next day, after an early breakfast, he started for the great city, excited with the idea of going, but hardly able to repress the tears as he saw the lonely look upon his mother's face.
He was her only son, and she was a widow.
“I must send her good news as soon as possible,” he thought. “That will cheer her up.”