“No, Miss Vane. That is, Hi ’ave no ’ome to go to, any more. Hi ’ave left Riles, left ’im for good an’ all. Hi ’ave left ’im, han’ I am goin’ away to the West to be a farmer myself. Han’ before Hi went Hi thought Hi would come along this wy han’ maybe Hi would see—that is, maybe Hi could sy good-bye to the boys.”
Myrtle rose and walked the few steps to where the boy stood leaning against the door. She looked very close in his face before speaking.
“Wilfred, do you mean this? Have you thought it all over? Are you sure of yourself?”
“Yes, Miss Vane, Hi am. Hi am goin’ to be a man, has other boys are men, Wy shouldn’t Hi? Hi am goin’ to the new land, w’ere the Gover’ment gives farms to those as will work ’em, han’ Hi am goin’ to work hout for money to do the himprovements. Hin three years Hi will ’ave a farm of my hown, han’ be has good a man has ’Iram Riles.” He ended with a defiant snap at those last words.
“A great deal better man, I hope,” she said. “The goodness of a man is not measured by his possessions, although that seems one of the hardest lessons for people to learn. Some One has said that he who ruleth his own spirit is greater than he who taketh a city. To control one’s ambition is greater than to realise one’s ambition. In the home of Riles I am afraid you have seen but little self-control in any form. Can you measure up to it when it is required of you?”
She had no inkling of the great test from which he had just come out victorious. And he answered modestly, “Hi think Hi can.”
“But why do you leave in this way?” she asked, a new thought presenting itself. “You are not—not running away, are you?”
“Well, Hi guess you would call hit that. Hi’d a row with Riles, an’ Hi’m goin’.”
There was a silence that lengthened into minutes. The boy shifted from one foot to another, powerless to tear himself away, and yet without an excuse for remaining longer.
“Well, good-bye, Miss Vane,” he said at length.
She started as the words recalled her. “Not yet, Wilfred,” she said. “Not yet, for a little while,” and there was something akin to pleading in her voice. “Wilfred, I believe you are an honest boy. I believe I can trust you. Can I trust you, Wilfred?”
And again he answered modestly, “Hi think you can.”