’I want you to grant me one request, the only one I will ever make of you. Promise me some small yearly sum assured to my father, I do not ask for much. When I am in the house, I can manage, but it is hard work for me to do so. When I am gone, Kate will find it hard, and she may not remain long there; she is a pretty girl, and has her admirers, she is sure to marry soon—then what will become of my father and the little ones? I do not ask you to take them in here. That would not be reasonable—except so far as they can work for you, and be of use to you—Joe will be a valuable servant, and Pattie is growing up to be neat and active and thoughtful.’ ’How many more?’ asked Langford. ’That is all,’ replied Honor quietly. ’If I ask you to do anything for these two it is only because they will be worth more than you will pay them. But I ask for my father. It will be a loss to him, my leaving the house. He will not be happy. Kate is very good, but she does not understand thrift, and she is light-hearted. Promise me a small sum every year for my father and the little ones to relieve them from the pinch of poverty, and to give them ease and happiness.’ ’How many have you?’ ’There are Joe, and Pattie, Willie, Martha, Charity, and Temperance. If I might bring Temperance with me I should be very thankful; she is but three, and will miss me.’ ’In the Proverbs of Solomon we are told that the horseleech hath three daughters, which cry Give, give, give! Here are more, some seven, all wanting to suck blood. If I marry you, I don’t marry the family.’ Honor was silent, for a moment, recovering herself; his rudeness hurt her, angered her. ’I make a request. I will ask nothing more.’ She looked up at him, and rested her eyes on his face. He had been observing her; how pale she was—how worn; and it annoyed him: it seemed to him that it had cost her much to resolve to take him; and this was not flattering to his pride. ’I cannot grant it,’ he said. ’It is not reasonable. I am not going to be eaten out of house and home by a parcel of ravenous schoolchildren. I want you, I do not want all your tail of brothers and sisters, and, worst of all, your helpless father. I know very well what will happen. I shall be thrown to them like an old horse to Squire Impey’s pack—to have my flesh torn off, and my bones even crunched up. I cut this away in the beginning; I will not have it.’ ’I ask only for a small sum of money for my father. The van barely sustains him. The family is so large. I will not bring any of the children here, except little Temperance, who is very, very dear to my heart.’ ’No, I will have none of them.’ ’I may not have Temperance?’ ’No, I said, none of them. Give an inch, and an ell is taken. Put in the little finger and the fist follows.’ ’Then you will grant me an allowance for my father?’