'I wonder what my grannie 'ill say to me,' said Robert.
'She'll be very glad to see you, whatever she may say,' remarked
Ericson.
'She'll say "Noo, be dooce," the minute I hae shacken hands wi'
her,' said Robert.
'Robert,' returned Ericson solemnly, 'if I had a grandmother to go
home to, she might box my ears if she liked--I wouldn't care. You
do not know what it is not to have a soul belonging to you on the
face of the earth. It is so cold and so lonely!'
'But you have a cousin, haven't you?' suggested Robert.
Ericson laughed, but good-naturedly.
'Yes,' he answered, 'a little man with a fishy smell, in a blue
tail-coat with brass buttons, and a red and black nightcap.'
'But,' Robert ventured to hint, 'he might go in a kilt and
top-boots, like Satan in my grannie's copy o' the Paradise Lost, for
onything I would care.'
'Yes, but he's just like his looks. The first thing he'll do the
next morning after I go home, will be to take me into his office, or
shop, as he calls it, and get down his books, and show me how many
barrels of herring I owe him, with the price of each. To do him
justice, he only charges me wholesale.'
'What'll he do that for?'
'To urge on me the necessity of diligence, and the choice of a
profession,' answered Ericson, with a smile of mingled sadness and
irresolution. 'He will set forth what a loss the interest of the
money is, even if I should pay the principal; and remind me that
although he has stood my friend, his duty to his own family imposes
limits.
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