“Yes, mother,” said he, “I’ll go on the stage to-morrow morning. There’s no use putting it off any longer, and I’d be a coward to do so.”

Then his mother put her handkerchief to her face, and the tears that she was keeping back came very freely.

The next morning at half-past seven o’clock Tom knocked at the door of Elihu Penrose’s house. The mill-house was about three-quarters of a mile from the turnpike, and as he had to meet the stage there about eight o’clock, he had only a few minutes in which to say farewell.

He walked straight into the dining-room. Patty was busy putting away the breakfast dishes, and Elihu sat at his old brass-handled desk, footing up his accounts. He looked up as Tom came in, and the color flew into Patty’s cheeks.

“Thee’s beginning thy courting early in the morning, Thomas,&r. . . Read More