There was no braggadocio, but a sweet steadfastness in the words and manner which impressed all his hearers; though it impressed them differently.
"Mother, what do you think of him?" Mrs. Bartholomew said, apparently in despair.
"I don't know what to think, child," said the old lady. "I am puzzled."
"About me, grandmamma?" asked David.
"No, boy; I never was puzzled about you, and I am not now."
"We'll have grandma going over next!" exclaimed Judy, "and then—What'll be then, mamma? Will this be a hospital, grandmamma? I shouldn't like to live here in that case, because of the fevers. I declare, I'm very sorry! Will David be the doctor or the minister, grandmamma?"
"Hush, Judy!" said her mother. "Things are bad enough without you."
"There's one thing, you vexatious boy," said Judy; "your uncles will give you up."
"They have done that already," said David quietly.
"Have they? O have they really, mamma? Then they won't give him their money when they die! nor me neither. You hateful fellow! to go and make me poor as well as yourself." And Judy began to cry. "I thought we'd be so rich, mamma!"