'What are you writing, Tom?' inquired his sister, laying her hand upon
his shoulder.
'Why, you see, my dear,' said Tom, leaning back in his chair, and
looking up in her face, 'I am very anxious, of course, to obtain some
suitable employment; and before Mr Westlock comes this afternoon,
I think I may as well prepare a little description of myself and my
qualifications; such as he could show to any friend of his.'
'You had better do the same for me, Tom, also,' said his sister, casting
down her eyes. 'I should dearly like to keep house for you and take care
of you always, Tom; but we are not rich enough for that.'
'We are not rich,' returned Tom, 'certainly; and we may be much poorer.
But we will not part if we can help it. No, no; we will make up our
minds Ruth, that unless we are so very unfortunate as to render me quite
sure that you would be better off away from me than with me, we will
battle it out together. I am certain we shall be happier if we can
battle it out together. Don't you think we shall?'
'Think, Tom!'
'Oh, tut, tut!' interposed Tom, tenderly. 'You mustn't cry.
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