‘Wall, boys, kain’t linger with ye always. I’m beginnin’ t’ feel like Rip Van Winkle meself in thishyer slumbersom place. I reckon I shall hev to hurry back to civilisation agen before I go to sleep too. How on airth yew fellers keep ’wake long ’nough t’ eat ’n drink I d’no.’
With this parting shot he turned on his heel and disappeared into the gathering darkness, and they saw him no more.
Meanwhile Rube, his mind a blank, reached home and, hastily ascending to his room, busied himself gathering together his clothing. Good serviceable homespun, most of it, such as would be fit for any work, however rough, that might fall to his lot. Having made it into a compact bundle, with a celerity that raised a dim wonder even in himself, he drew himself up, as if bracing all his fortitude to meet father and mother. Memories of the quiet, pleasant years began to crowd in upon him, but with a gesture as if to crush them back, he deliberately walked down the narrow stairway, whose every step seemed to utter a reproachful creak. Entering the kitchen, he crossed over to the fireside, where his parents sat facing each other and calmly talking over some trivial happening of the day. Standing before them, he waited a moment, while they both looked up at him, and in that one swift glance his mother knew that a crisis had arrived. In a husky voice, that sounded as if it belonged to someone else, he said:
‘Mother, Dad, I’m goin’ away termorrer mornin’. Fergive me fer leavin’ ye like this, but I jest had ter go. I’m no good here any more. I’m goin’ t’ sea, ’n’ when I come back mebbe I’ll be a stronger man. Naow I’m a wuthless, dreamy shote, ’n’ I feel ’s if thishyer quiet easy life ’d certainly drive me mad befo’ very long.’
‘_Must_ you go to-morrow, my son?’ murmured his mother hopelessly, for she knew the breed, knew that once set upon a thing the Eddys were immovable, and yet she felt obliged to make an effort.
‘Yes, mother. ’Greement’s signed, th’ airnest money’s in my pocket, an’ my duds are all packed. I’m goin’, sure.’
‘Rube,’ said his father, ‘we’ve been mighty cluss friends all our lives, an’ we ain’t goin’ ter fall eout naouw, I’m dead shore o’ that. But ye mout ha’ told me wut ye wuz meditatin’. ’T wan’t far t’ me, boy, naow wuz it?’