He put his hands in his pockets and walked over to the window.
“I think that it would be better if I did the same thing.”
“What do you mean, my son—”
“If I went to work,—started sweeping out a store, I mean. See here, mother, you've sacrificed enough for me already. After paying father's debts, we've come out here with only a few thousand dollars, and the nine hundred I saved out of this year's Law School allowance. What shall we do when that is gone? The honorable legal profession, as my friend reminded me to-night, is not the swiftest road to millions.”
With a mother's discernment she guessed the agitation, he was striving to hide; she knew that he had been gathering courage for this moment for months. And she knew that he was renouncing thus lightly, for her sake an ambition he had had from his school days.
Widow passed her hand over her brow. It was a space before she answered him.
“My son,” she said, let us never speak of this again:
“It was your father's dearest wish that you should become a lawyer and—and his wishes are sacred God will take care of us.”
She rose and kissed him good-night.
“Remember, my dear, when you go to Judge Whipple in the morning, remember his kindness, and—.”