Uncle Adam had his
station at the business-table in the midst. Valuable
rows of books looked down upon the place of torture;
and I could hear sparrows chirping in the garden, and
my sprightly cousin already banging the piano and
pouring forth an acid stream of song from the drawing-
room overhead.
It was in these circumstances that, with all brevity of
speech and a certain boyish sullenness of manner,
looking the while upon the floor, I informed my
relatives of my financial situation: the amount I owed
Pinkerton; the hopelessness of any maintenance from
sculpture; the career offered me in the States; and
how, before becoming more beholden to a stranger, I had
judged it right to lay the case before my family.
"I am only sorry you did not come to me at first," said
Uncle Adam. "I take the liberty to say it would have
been more decent."
"I think so too, Uncle Adam," I replied; "but you must
bear in mind I was ignorant in what light you might
regard my application."
"I hope I would never turn my back on my own flesh and
blood," he returned with emphasis; but, to my anxious
ear, with more of temper than affection.
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