They sat a long time with no light but that of the fire. Arthur seemed to gather courage, and confessed the hopeless monotony of his life. He complained of no privation, only of want of interest in his work.
“Do you like your work?” he asked Richard.
“Indeed I do!” Richard answered. “I would sooner handle an old book than a bunch of bank-notes!”
“I don't doubt it,” returned Arthur. “To me your workshop seems a paradise.”
“Why don't you take up the trade, then? Come to us and I will teach you. I do not think my father would object.”
“I learn nothing where I am!” continued Arthur.
“Our boat is not over-manned,” resumed Richard. “Say you will come, and I will speak to my father.”
“I wish I could! But how are we to live while I am learning?—No; I must grind away till—”
He stopped short, and gave a sigh.
“Till when, Arty?” asked his sister.