“ Oh, mother, don’t!” cried Paul.
“ Don’t what, I should like to know?” she exclaimed.
“ Don’t carry on again. I can’t work.”
She went very quiet.
“ Yes, it’s all very well,” she said; “but how do you think I’m going to manage?”
“ Well, it won’t make it any better to whittle about it.”
“ I should like to know what you’d do if you had it to put up with.”
“ It won’t be long. You can have my money. Let him go to hell.”
He went back to his work, and she tied her bonnet-strings grimly. When she was fretted he could not bear it. But now he began to insist on her recognising him.
“ The two loaves at the top,” she said, “will be done in twenty minutes. Don’t forget them.”
“ All right,” he answered; and she went to market.
He remained alone working. But his usual intense concent
