Tom shrugged his shoulders in answer. They were very slender shoulders. His frame was slight altogether, suggesting that he might not be strong. He was about as tall as I—rather above middle height.
"Take a clerkship with you, at twenty shillings a week, if you'd give it me. Or go out to the Australian diggings to pick up gold. How grave you look, Charles!"
"It is a grave subject. But I hope you are saying this in joke, Tom."
"Half in joke, half in earnest. I will not sell out if I can help it; be sure of that, old man; but I think it will have to come to it. Can you give me something to drink, Charley? I am thirsty."
"Will you take some tea? I am just going to have mine. Or anything else instead?"
"I was thinking of brandy and soda. But I don't mind if I do try tea, for once. Ay, I will. Have it up, Charley."
I rang the bell, and Mrs. Watts brought it up.
"Anything else, sir?" she stayed to ask.
"Not at present. Watts has gone out with that letter, I suppose?—— Why, you have forgotten the milk!"
She gave a sharp word at her own stupidity, and left the room. Tom's eyes had been fixed upon her, following her to the last. He began slowly pushing back his bright brown hair, as he would do in his boyhood when anything puzzled him.