'
'No, no; I won't, Tom. But you can't afford it, dear. You can't,
indeed.'
'We don't know that,' said Tom. 'How are we to know that, yet awhile,
and without trying? Lord bless my soul!'--Tom's energy became quite
grand--'there is no knowing what may happen, if we try hard. And I am
sure we can live contentedly upon a very little--if we can only get it.'
'Yes; that I am sure we can, Tom.'
'Why, then,' said Tom, 'we must try for it. My friend, John Westlock, is
a capital fellow, and very shrewd and intelligent. I'll take his advice.
We'll talk it over with him--both of us together. You'll like John very
much, when you come to know him, I am certain. Don't cry, don't cry. YOU
make a beef-steak pudding, indeed!' said Tom, giving her a gentle push.
'Why, you haven't boldness enough for a dumpling!'
'You WILL call it a pudding, Tom. Mind! I told you not!'
'I may as well call it that, till it proves to be something else,' said
Tom. 'Oh, you are going to work in earnest, are you?'
Aye, aye! That she was. And in such pleasant earnest, moreover, that
Tom's attention wandered from his writing every moment.
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