“You are only fifteen.”
“But I am stout and strong of my age. I shall soon be a man. Don't you see my mustache coming, mother?” said Herbert, with a laugh.
“Not very distinctly; but perhaps my eyesight is growing poor,” answered his mother, smiling.
“The trouble is,” said Herbert, thoughtfully, “there is very little chance of work in this town.”
“I wonder whether Squire Leech wouldn't hire you through the spring and summer on one of his farms. I heard that he is going to hire a boy.”
“I am not sure whether he would be willing to hire me, however much he wanted a boy.”
“Why not?”
“He don't seem to like me, nor does Mr. Banks like me.”
“What can they have against you? I thought everybody liked you.”
“That's because you are my mother, but the squire doesn't feel maternal so far as I am concerned. I didn't understand it at first, but now I do.”