“You'd better send a servant, father,” said Tom, coolly.
“It appears to me you are getting lazy, Thomas,” said his father.
“Thomas is right,” said Mrs. Stanton. “What do we keep servants for but to run errands?”
“Still, Tom might have obliged me in such a little matter.”
“You shouldn't have asked him, Mr. Stanton. You seem to forget that we are not living in the style of half a dozen years ago. You should adapt yourself to circumstances.”
Mr. Stanton said no more, but sent a servant in Tom's place. But he could not help thinking that the outward prosperity for which he was striving was not without its drawbacks, since it compelled him to look to servants for the most ordinary services.
The next morning Tom went to the counting-room, fully expecting that Herbert would claim relationship as soon as he discovered his name. While he would be compelled to admit it, he determined to treat Herbert with such a degree of coolness that he would take the hint, and keep his distance.
When he arrived at the counting-room, Herbert was already there, and Mr. Pratt also.
“Good-morning,” said Herbert.
“Morning,” muttered Tom.