She looked at him very sadly. "You're a better man than Charlie, Mr Carstairs. I'm his mother, and it goes to my heart to say it, but I can't help it. I suppose I spoilt him. He's had his own way so much. I shall tell that girl so, it if seems necessary."
"It's no use, Mrs Darwen."
"You won't quarrel with Charlie, Mr Carstairs?"
He sat silent. "I can't promise," he said after a pause.
"Ah! I was afraid so. The only friend he's got, the only chum he ever had; plenty of acquaintances, but no friends, no real friends. Don't you quarrel with him, Mr Carstairs, please don't. I feel you do him so much good, I know it, he says so himself and I'm afraid he'll get wild and go to the bad. Promise me you'll always be his friend."
Carstairs stood up and looked steadily into her eyes. "I can't promise, Mrs Darwen, because I may not be able to keep it, but I'll try."
"Ah!" she said, "if only Charlie were like you."
"When is she coming back?" he asked.
"To-morrow, she said, but I told her not to hurry if her mother were really ill."
"Can you send her out somewhere—say to the general post office, at eight o'clock in the evening. I'll meet her and tackle her alone."