"Miss Wort, I know you are a liberal soul, and here is a case where you
can do some real good, if you will be guided," he said firmly. "I was
going to appeal to Lady Latimer, but I have put so much on her
ladyship's kindness lately--"
"Oh, Mr. Carnegie! I have a right to help here," interrupted Miss Wort.
"A _right_, for poor Tom was years and years in my Sunday-school class;
so he can't be very bad! Didn't Admiral Parkins and the other
magistrates say that they would rather send his master to prison than
him, if they had the power?"
"Yes; but he has done his prison now, and the pressing business is to
keep him from going altogether to the deuce. I want him to have a good
meal of meat three or four times a week, and light garden-work--all he
is fit for now. And then we shall see what next."
"I wo'ant list and I wo'ant emigrate; I'll stop where I am and live it
down," announced Tom doggedly.
"Yes, yes, that is what I should expect of you, Tom," said Miss Wort.
"Then you will recover everybody's good opinion."
"I don't heed folks' opinions, good or bad. I know what I know."
"Well, then, get your cap, and come home to dinner with me; it is roast
mutton," said Miss Wort, as if pleading with a fractious child.
Tom rose heavily, took his cap, and followed her out. Mr. Carnegie
watched them as they turned down a back lane to the village, the lathy
figure of the lad towering by the head and shoulders above the poke
bonnet and drab cloak of Miss Wort.
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