Willie shook his head.
“No, I fear not. He was in a soft state once—long ago—six or seven years now, I think—when the dear fairy was ill and he seemed as if he were going to become a man; but his daughter Loo had just begun to be ill at that time. She’s been so long ill now that he has got used to it, and has relapsed again into an oyster.”
“He might be reached through Loo yet,” said Frank.
“Perhaps,” replied Willie, “but I doubt it, for he’s a blunt old fellow in his feelings, however sharp he may be in his business; besides, Loo is so weak now that very few are allowed to see her except Ziza, and Miss Tippet, and Emma Ward.”
The brothers remained silent after this for some time, for neither of them could see his way out of their difficulties; at last Frank suggested that Willie should go home and consult his mother.
“She is wise, Willie, and has never given us bad advice yet.”
“I know what her first advice will be,” said Willie.
“What?” asked Frank.
“To go and pray about it,” answered Willie.
“Well, she might give worse advice than that,” said Frank, with much earnestness. “In fact, I doubt if she could give better.”