'Are you very poor, father?'
He stopped a minute.
'They call me close, but I reckon there's not many of them would do a thing like this; it's too much to expect.'
'For mother's sake,'—I felt, rather than knew, that this was my best chance.
'You let me alone!' he said roughly.
I waited with my eyes fixed upon him, for two or three minutes. He went on with his work; then came a sort of short laugh.
'They preach so much to me about being good to you: why am I to take in another mouth to feed?—a great growing lad too, that'll take the bread out of your mouth, most likely.'
'Oh, father!'
'Be still; can't you? I hate to see the boy about the place. He's brought nought but bad luck to me and mine.'
I thought of Cuthbert waiting for me; I thought of mother's charge to me, so solemnly given and received. I was almost in despair. If I had understood my father better, I might have guessed that he would say less had he been entirely decided and at ease in his own mind.