'You hed a―why―brother once, didn't yer?'
'Yes, but thet was afore I was borned. He died, at least mother used ter say she didn't know if he was dead; but father says he's dead as fur's he' concerned.'
'And your father hed a brother, too. Did yer ever―why―hear of him?'
'Yes, I heard father talkin' about it onst to mother. I think father's brother got into some trouble over a squabble in a bar where a man was killed.'
'And was yer―why―father―why―fond of him?'
'I heard father say that he was wonst, but thet was all past.'
Tom smoked in silence for a while, and seemed to look at some dark clouds that were drifting along like a funeral out in the west. Presently he said half aloud something that sounded like 'All, all―why―past.'
'Eh?' said Isley.
'Oh, it's―why, why―nothin',' answered Tom, rousing himself. 'Is that a paper in yer father's coat-pocket, Isley?'
'Yes,' said the boy, taking it out.
Tom took the paper and stared hard at it for a moment or so.
'There's something about the new gold-fields there,' said Tom, putting his finger on a tailor's advertisement. I wish you'd―why―read it to me, Isley; I can't see the small print they uses nowadays.'
'No, thet's not it,' said the boy taking the paper, 'it's something about.'
'Isley!'
