The Mill on the Floss, George Eliot [rocket ebook reader txt] 📗

“Ay, ay,” said uncle Glegg, with admonition which he meant to be kind, “we must look to see the good of all this schooling, as your father’s sunk so much money in, now⁠—

‘When land is gone and money’s spent,
Then learning is most excellent.’

Now’s the time, Tom, to let us see the good o’ your learning. Let us see whether you can do better than I can, as have made my fortin without it. But I began wi’ doing with little, you see; I could live on a basin o’ porridge and a crust o’ bread-and-cheese. But I doubt high living and high learning ’ull make it harder for you, young man, nor it was for me.”

“But he must do it,” interposed aunt Glegg, energetically, “whether it’s hard or no. He hasn’t got to consider what’s hard; he must consider as he isn’t to trusten to his friends to keep him in idleness and luxury; he’s got to bear the fruits of his father’s misconduct, and bring his mind to fare hard and to work hard. And he must be humble and grateful to his aunts and uncles for what they’re doing for his mother and father, as must be turned out into the streets and go to the workhouse if they didn’t help ’em. And his sister, too,” continued Mrs. Glegg, looking severely at Maggie, who had sat down on the sofa by her aunt Deane, drawn to her by the sense that she was Lucy’s mother, “she must make up her mind to be humble and work; for there’ll be no servants to wait on her any more⁠—she must remember that. She must do the work o’ the house, and she must respect and love her aunts as have done so much for her, and saved their money to leave to their nepheys and nieces.”

Tom was still standing before the table in the centre of the group. There was a heightened colour in his face, and he was very far from looking humbled, but he was preparing to say, in a respectful tone, something he had previously meditated, when the door opened and his mother re-entered.

Poor Mrs. Tulliver had in her hands a small tray, on which she had placed her silver teapot, a specimen teacup and saucer, the castors, and sugar-tongs.

“See here, sister,” she said, looking at Mrs. Deane, as she set the tray on the table, “I thought, perhaps, if you looked at the teapot again⁠—it’s a good while since you saw it⁠—you might like the pattern better; it makes beautiful tea, and there’s a stand and everything; you might use it for every day, or else lay it by for Lucy when she goes to housekeeping. I should be so loath for ’em to buy it at the Golden Lion,” said the poor woman, her heart swelling, and the tears coming⁠—“my teapot as I bought when I was married, and to think of its being scratched, and set before the travellers and folks, and my letters on it⁠—see here, E. D.⁠—and everybody to see ’em.”

“Ah, dear, dear!” said aunt Pullet, shaking her head with deep sadness, “it’s very bad⁠—to think o’ the family initials going about everywhere⁠—it niver was so before; you’re a very unlucky sister, Bessy. But what’s the use o’ buying the teapot, when there’s the linen and spoons and everything to go, and some of ’em with your full name⁠—and when it’s got that straight spout, too.”

“As to disgrace o’ the family,” said Mrs. Glegg, “that can’t be helped wi’ buying teapots. The disgrace is, for one o’ the family to ha’ married a man as has brought her to beggary. The disgrace is, as they’re to be sold up. We can’t hinder the country from knowing that.”

Maggie had started up from the sofa at the allusion to her father, but Tom saw her action and flushed face in time to prevent her from speaking. “Be quiet, Maggie,” he said authoritatively, pushing her aside. It was a remarkable manifestation of self-command and practical judgment in a lad of fifteen, that when his aunt Glegg ceased, he began to speak in a quiet and respectful manner, though with a good deal of trembling in his voice; for his mother’s words had cut him to the quick.

“Then, aunt,” he said, looking straight at Mrs. Glegg, “if you think it’s a disgrace to the family that we should be sold up, wouldn’t it be better to prevent it altogether? And if you and aunt Pullet,” he continued, looking at the latter, “think of leaving any money to me and Maggie, wouldn’t it be better to give it now, and pay the debt we’re going to be sold up for, and save my mother from parting with her furniture?”

There was silence for a few moments, for everyone, including Maggie, was astonished at Tom’s sudden manliness of tone. Uncle Glegg was the first to speak.

“Ay, ay, young man, come now! You show some notion o’ things. But there’s the interest, you must remember; your aunts get five percent on their money, and they’d lose that if they advanced it; you haven’t thought o’ that.”

“I could work and pay that every year,” said Tom, promptly. “I’d do anything to save my mother from parting with her things.”

“Well done!” said uncle Glegg, admiringly. He had been drawing Tom out, rather than reflecting on the practicability of his proposal. But he had produced the unfortunate result of irritating his wife.

“Yes, Mr. Glegg!” said that lady, with angry sarcasm. “It’s pleasant work for you to be giving my money away, as you’ve pretended to leave at my own disposal. And my money, as was my own father’s gift, and not yours, Mr. Glegg; and I’ve saved it, and added to it myself, and had more to put out almost every year, and it’s to go and be sunk in other folks’ furniture, and encourage ’em in luxury and extravagance as they’ve no means of supporting; and I’m to alter my