LITMIR.BIZ

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it in mind, and ask us humble to do what we can for you, i’stead o’ saying, and making a boast, as you’ve never asked us for anything.”

      “You talked o’ the Mosses, and what Mr. Tulliver’s done for ’em,” said uncle Pullet, who became unusually suggestive where advances of money were concerned. “Haven’t they been anear you? They ought to do something as well as other folks; and if he’s lent ’em money, they ought to be made to pay it back.”

      “Yes, to be sure,” said Mrs. Deane; “I’ve been thinking so. How is it Mr. and Mrs. Moss aren’t here to meet us? It is but right they should do their share.”

      “Oh, dear!” said Mrs. Tulliver, “I never sent ’em word about Mr. Tulliver, and they live so back’ard among the lanes at Basset, they niver hear anything only when Mr. Moss comes to market. But I niver gave ’em a thought. I wonder Maggie didn’t, though, for she was allays so fond of her aunt Moss.”

      “Why don’t your children come in, Bessy?” said Mrs. Pullet, at the mention of Maggie. “They should hear what their aunts and uncles have got to say; and Maggie,—when it’s me as have paid for half her schooling, she ought to think more of her aunt Pullet than of aunt Moss. I may go off sudden when I get home to-day; there’s no telling.”

      “If I’d had my way,” said Mrs. Glegg, “the children ’ud ha’ been in the room from the first. It’s time they knew who they’ve to look to, and it’s right as somebody should talk to ’em, and let ’em know their condition i’ life, and what they’re come down to, and make ’em feel as they’ve got to suffer for their father’s faults.”

      “Well, I’ll go and fetch ’em, sister,” said Mrs. Tulliver, resignedly. She was quite crushed now, and thought of the treasures in the storeroom with no other feeling than blank despair.

      She went upstairs to fetch Tom and Maggie, who were both in their father’s room, and was on her way down again, when the sight of the storeroom door suggested a new thought to her. She went toward it, and left the children to go down by themselves.

      The aunts and uncles appeared to have been in warm discussion when the brother and sister entered,—both with shrinking reluctance; for though Tom, with a practical sagacity which had been roused into activity by the strong stimulus of the new emotions he had undergone since yesterday, had been turning over in his mind a plan which he meant to propose to one of his aunts or uncles, he felt by no means amicably toward them, and dreaded meeting them all at once as he would have dreaded a large dose of concentrated physic, which was but just endurable in small draughts. As for Maggie, she was peculiarly depressed this morning; she had been called up, after brief rest, at three o’clock, and had that strange dreamy weariness which comes from watching in a sick-room through the chill hours of early twilight and breaking day,—in which the outside day-light life seems to have no importance, and to be a mere margin to the hours in the darkened chamber. Their entrance interrupted the conversation. The shaking of hands was a melancholy and silent ceremony, till uncle Pullet observed, as Tom approached him:

      “Well, young sir, we’ve been talking as we should want your pen and ink; you can write rarely now, after all your schooling, I should think.”

      “Ay, ay,” said uncle Glegg, with admonition which he meant to be kind, “we must look to see the good of all this schooling, as your father’s sunk so much money in, now,—

      ‘When land is gone and money’s spent,

      Then learning is most excellent.’

      Now’s the time, Tom, to let us see the good o’ your learning. Let us see whether you can do better than I can, as have made my fortin without it. But I began wi’ doing with little, you see; I could live on a basin o’ porridge and a crust o’ bread-and-cheese. But I doubt high living and high learning ’ull make it harder for you, young man, nor it was for me.”

      “But he must do it,” interposed aunt Glegg, energetically, “whether it’s hard or no. He hasn’t got to consider what’s hard; he must consider as he isn’t to trusten to his friends to keep him in idleness and luxury; he’s got to bear the fruits of his father’s misconduct, and bring his mind to fare hard and to work hard. And he must be humble and grateful to his aunts and uncles for what they’re doing for his mother and father, as must be turned out into the streets and go to the workhouse if they didn’t help ’em. And his sister, too,” continued Mrs. Glegg, looking severely at Maggie, who had sat down on the sofa by her aunt Deane, drawn to her by the sense that she was Lucy’s mother, “she must make up her mind to be humble and work; for there’ll be no servants to wait on her any more,—she must remember that. She must do the work o’ the house, and she must respect and love her aunts as have done so much for her, and saved their money to leave to their nepheys and nieces.”

      Tom was still standing before the table in the centre of the group. There was a heightened color in his face, and he was very far from looking humbled, but he was preparing to say, in a respectful tone, something he had previously meditated, when the door opened and his mother re-entered.

      Poor Mrs. Tulliver had in her hands a small tray, on which she had placed her silver teapot, a specimen teacup and saucer, the castors, and sugar-tongs.

      “See here, sister,” she said, looking at Mrs. Deane, as she set the tray on the table, “I thought, perhaps, if you looked at the teapot again,—it’s a good while since you saw it,—you might like the pattern better; it makes beautiful tea, and there’s a stand and everything; you might use it for every day, or else lay it by for Lucy when she goes to housekeeping. I should be so loath for ’em to buy it at the Golden Lion,” said the poor woman, her heart swelling, and the tears coming,—“my teapot as I bought when I was married, and to think of its being scratched, and set before the travellers and folks, and my letters on it,—see here, E. D.,—and everybody to see ’em.”

      “Ah, dear, dear!” said aunt Pullet, shaking her head with deep sadness, “it’s very bad,—to think o’ the family initials going about everywhere—it niver was so before; you’re a very unlucky sister, Bessy. But what’s the use o’ buying the teapot, when there’s the linen and spoons and everything to go, and some of ’em with your full name,—and when it’s got that straight spout, too.”

      “As to disgrace o’ the family,” said Mrs. Glegg, “that can’t be helped wi’ buying teapots. The disgrace is, for one o’ the family to ha’ married a man as has brought her to beggary. The disgrace is, as they’re to be sold up. We can’t hinder the country from knowing that.”

      Maggie had started up from the sofa at the allusion to her father, but Tom saw her action and flushed face in time to prevent her from speaking. “Be quiet, Maggie,” he said authoritatively, pushing her aside. It was a remarkable manifestation of self-command and practical judgment in a lad of fifteen, that when his aunt Glegg ceased, he began to speak in a quiet and respectful manner, though with a good deal of trembling in his voice; for his mother’s words had cut him to the quick.

      “Then, aunt,” he said, looking straight at Mrs. Glegg, “if you think it’s a disgrace to the family that we should be sold up, wouldn’t it be better to prevent it altogether? And if you and aunt Pullet,” he continued, looking at the latter, “think of leaving any money to me and Maggie, wouldn’t it be better to give it now, and pay the debt we’re going to be sold up for, and save my mother from parting with her furniture?”

      There was silence for a few moments, for every one, including Maggie, was astonished at Tom’s sudden manliness of tone. Uncle Glegg was the first to speak.

      “Ay, ay, young man, come now! You show some notion o’ things. But there’s the interest, you must remember; your aunts get five per cent on their money, and they’d lose that if they advanced it; you haven’t thought o’ that.”

      “I could work and pay that every year,” said Tom, promptly. “I’d do anything to save my mother from parting with her things.”

      “Well done!” said uncle Glegg, admiringly. He had been drawing Tom out, rather than reflecting on the practicability of his proposal. But he had produced the unfortunate

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