L. Meade - The Girls of St. Wode's

There was a dead silence in the room. Mrs. Gilroy’s face looked white; all the pleasure had left it. She glanced at Parker, whose deep-set eyes twinkled half with fun and half with sympathy. He patted Llewellyn again on the shoulder.

“The truth now,” he said; “you are too proud to take help from me?”

“I am,” said Llewellyn.

“That’s a right spirit; but I am going to tempt you. I will give you two hundred a year if you wish to go to Oxford.”

“No, thank you,” answered the boy. He shook the kindly hand off and stepped back a foot.

“But why, my lad?”

“Oh, Llewellyn, why?” said the mother.

“Oh, Llewellyn, are you mad?” cried Leslie.

“I will tell you why, if you all want to know,” said Llewellyn. “I don’t choose to be beholden to anybody, not even to Mr. Parker, who was my father’s friend. I may some day go to the university; but I don’t think there is much chance of it. Sir, I will tell you another reason: I want to help my mother; she needs help at once. She could take it from me when she could not take it from a stranger. If I went to Oxford I could not earn any money for three or four years; now I start at once with a pound a week. I can live at home, too, and half the money will go straight towards the house. In a year’s time my screw is to be raised. It is all settled, sir. I am obliged to you all the same, but I can’t take your help.”

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