"You'll not be able to buy much with that amount of work," she
interrupted.
He told her of the sketch for the Creams and of the tragedy of St.
Patrick.
"What's the use of writing about him," she said. "Sure, he's been dead
this long while back!"
He did not attempt to make her understand. "And then there's the novel
I wrote when I was at home," he concluded.
"But you've heard nothing of it yet. As far as I can see you've done
little here that you couldn't have done at home!"
"Oh, yes I have. I've learned a great deal more than I could ever have
learned in Ballyards. And I've met Eleanor!"
"H'm!" she said, rising from her seat. "I'm going to my bed now. That
girl Lizzie seems a good-natured sort of a soul. Where does Eleanor
live?"
"Oh, a long way from here!..."
"Give me her address, will you?"
"Yes, ma, but why?"
"I'm going to see her the morrow!"
He had to explain that Eleanor could not be seen in the day-time
because of her employment, and he proposed that his mother should go
with him in the evening to meet her at the bookstall at Charing Cross
station.
"Very well," she said as she kissed him, "Good-night!"