Could he give up all these things? He could not conceive it possible, you see, that a man should go and become a workman, receiving a wage and obeying orders, and afterward resume his old place among gentlemen, as if nothing had happened. Indeed, it would require a vast amount of explanation.
Then he began to consider what he would get if he remained.
One thing only would reward him. He was so far gone in love, that for this girl's sake he would renounce everything and become a workman indeed.
He could not work; the quiet of the room oppressed him; he must be up and moving while this struggle went on.
Then he thought of his uncle Bunker and laughed, remembering his discomfiture and wrath. While he was laughing the door opened, and the very man appeared.
He had lost his purple hue, and was now, in fact, rather pale, and his cheeks looked flabby.
"Nephew," he said huskily, "I want to talk to you about this thing; give over sniggerin', and talk serious now."
"Let us be serious."
"This is a most dreadful mistake of Miss Messenger's; you know at first I thought it must be a joke. That is why I went away; men of my age and respectability don't like jokes. But it was no joke. I see now it is just a mere dreadful mistake which you can set right."
"How can I set it right?"