“Nothing can be so bad for a young man as to make him his own master too early,” cried Jacob. “I’ve known it ruin many a one.”
“You promised my husband when he was dying that it should be so,” she gently urged. “Besides, it is Tom’s right. I understood that when he was of a proper age, he was to come in, in accordance with a previous arrangement made between you and poor Thomas.”
Jacob bit the end of the pen right off and nearly swallowed it. “Thomas left all things in my hands,” said he, coughing and choking. “Tom must acquire some further experience yet.”
“When do you propose settling it, then? How long will it be first?”
“Well, that depends, you know. I shall see.”
“Will it be in another year? Tom will be five-and-twenty then.”
“Ay, he will: and Val four-and-twenty. How time flies! It seems but the other day that they were in jackets and trousers.”
“But will it be then—in another year? You have not answered me, Jacob.”
“And I can’t answer you,” returned Jacob. “How can I? Don’t you understand me when I say I must wait and see?”
“You surely will do what is right, Jacob?”