There was a pause.
No one spoke.
It was evident that Mr. Coddington had more to say, and that he was finding it a little difficult to continue.
“In this great business, however,” he went on at last, “Peter will need help. He will not be able to carry so much care all alone.”
“But you will——” burst out Peter.
“Oh, I shall be around here for some time yet, God willing,” replied his father cheerily. “Still we old fellows cannot expect to stay here forever. We must consider the future, dear boy. Therefore I wish to train up another lad to share Peter’s burdens with him—a fellow with good stuff in him; some one whom Peter likes and can trust. It is with this end in view, Mrs. Jackson, that when we sail for England we wish to take your son with us.”
“Me!”
“Would you like to go, Nat?” asked Mrs. Coddington, watching the light leap into the boy’s eyes.
“Would I like to go! Why, it is the thing I have dreamed of all my life—dreamed of, and never expected to be able to do. To go to Europe! To see all those places I’ve read about and seen pictures of! Think of it! Do you really mean it, Mr. Coddington?”