"I hope that means Robertson and Carey?" Mr. Robertson said. He glanced over at his son with a sort of aching pride in his strength and carelessness. "I've offered this youngster a place in my firm," he explained to Doctor Lavendar, who said:
"Have you, indeed?"
"No," Johnny said, "it doesn't mean Carey and Robertson, though you're mighty kind, Mr. Robertson. But you see I can't leave Old Chester. It would pull Aunt Lydia up by the roots to go away. And of course I couldn't go without her."
Mary's plump hand, with its shining rings, clenched sharply on the tablecloth; she drew in her breath, but she said nothing.
"Well, what are you going to do?" Carl said, not daring to meet his wife's eyes.
"Aunt Lydia got a job for me in Mr. Dilworth's hardware store."
His mother cried out—then checked herself. "Miss Lydia ought not to have thought of such a thing!" she tried to speak quietly, but she had to bite her lip to keep it steady.
"Mary!" her husband warned her.
John's face darkened. "Aunty ought always to do whatever she does do," he said.
"Of course," his father agreed, soothingly.