“Yes, it had death in it,” acquiesced Jacob, in a tone of discomfort. “What he said was this, Squire: ‘When Tom shall be of an age.’ Meaning of course a suitable age to justify the step.”
“I don’t think so: I did not hear it so,” persisted the Squire. “There was no ’an’ in it. ‘When Tom shall be of age:’ that was it. Meaning when he should be twenty-one.”
“Oh dear, no; quite a mistake. You can’t think my ears would deceive me at such a time as that, Mr. Todhetley. And about our own business too.”
“Well, you ought to know best, of course, though my impression is that you are wrong,” conceded the Squire. “Put it that it was as you say: don’t you think Tom Chandler is now quite old enough for it to be acted upon?”
“No, I don’t,” replied Jacob. “As I have just told his mother, nothing can be more pernicious for a young man than to be made his own master too early. Nine young fellows out of every ten would get ruined by it.”
“Do you think so?” asked the Squire, dubiously.
“I am sure so, Squire. Tom Chandler is steady now, for aught I know to the contrary; but just let him get the reins into his hands, and you’d see what it would be. That is, what it might be. And I am not going to risk it.”
“He is as steady-going a young man as any one could wish for; diligent, straightforward. Not at all given to spending money improperly.”
“Because he has not had it to spend. I have known many a young blade to be quiet and cautious while his pockets were empty; and as soon as they were filled, perhaps all at once, he has gone headlong to rack and ruin. How do we know that it would not be the case with Tom?”
“Well, I—I don’t think it would be,” said the Squire, with hesitation, for he was coming round to Jacob’s line of argument.