"But," she added, significantly, "the curate knows."
"Then," said he, taking hope, "the curate will teach me."
"Yes; but——"
"But what? Tell me quick, mother!"
"Well," she hesitated, "the curate is so busy. Anyhow, dear," she continued, "I would have to work. We are very poor. You see, dear, it takes a great deal of money to buy new clothes for you. And, then, dear, you see——"
He waited—somewhat disturbed by the sudden failure of her voice. It was all becoming bitter to her, now; she found it hard to continue.
"You see," she gasped, "you eat—quite a bit."
"I'll not eat much," he promised. "And I'll not want new clothes. And it won't take long for the curate to teach me how to work."
She would not agree.
"Tell me!" he commanded.