'Thank you, Bryan,' replied my mother simply, 'I would like to have
him with me.'
Uncle Bryan was evidently no waster of words, and my mother entered
readily into his humour.
'You must be tired,' he said, as he was about to leave the room; 'rest
yourself a bit. But the sooner you come downstairs, the better I
shall be pleased.'
My mother laid her hand on his arm, and detained him.
'Let me say a word to you, Bryan.'
'You will never repeat it!' he exclaimed, with a quick apprehension of
what she wished to say.
'Never, without a strong necessity, Bryan.'
He laughed; but it was more like a dry husky cough than a laugh.
'When a man locks the street-door,' he said, 'trust a woman to see
that the yard-door's on the latch.'
'I want to thank you, Bryan, for the home you have offered me and my
boy.'
'Perhaps it won't suit you.'
'It will suit us, Bryan, if it will suit you to allow us to remain.'
He seemed to chew the words, 'allow us to remain,' silently, as if
their flavour were unpleasant to him; but he said aloud:
'Wait and see, then.' And although my mother wished to continue the
conversation, he turned his back to us, and abruptly left the room.
My mother sank into a chair; she must have been very tired, for she
had walked not less than twelve miles that day.
'You must be tired too, my dear,' she said, drawing me to her side.
'Not so tired as you, mother.'
'I don't feel very, very tired, my dear!'
I knew why she said so; hope dwelt in her heart.
'I think your uncle Bryan is a good man,' she said.
I did not express dissent; but I must have looked it.
'My dear,' she said, answering my look, 'you will find in your course
through life that many sweet things have their home in the roughest
shells. Uncle Bryan has a strange rough manner, but I think--nay, I am
sure--he is a good man. Do you know, Chris, I believe those things
that came home for us last Saturday night were sent by him. No, my
dear, we will not ask him, or even speak of it. He will be better
pleased if it is not referred to. And yet I wonder how he found us
out!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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