It's just as well poor old Martha has gone; it has brought things to a head." "We could have somebody else," suggested his son.
The captain shook his head.

"I'll give up the house and send you to London to your Aunt Mary," he said, slowly; "she doesn't know you, and once I'm at sea and the house given up, she won't be able to send you back." Master Hardy, who was much averse to leaving Sunwich and had heard accounts of the lady in question which referred principally to her strength of mind, made tender inquiries concerning his father's comfort while ashore.
"I'll take rooms," was the reply, "and I shall spend as much time as I can with you in London.

You want looking after, my son; I've heard all about you." His son, without inquiring as to the nature of the information, denied it at once upon principle; he also alluded darkly to his education, and shook his head over the effects of a change at such a critical period of his existence.
"And you talk too much for your age," was his father's comment when he had finished.

"A year or two with your aunt ought to make a nice boy of you; there's plenty of room for improvement." He put his plans in hand at once, and a week before he sailed again had disposed of the house.

Some of the furniture he kept for himself; but the bulk of it went to his sister as conscience-money.
Master Hardy, in very low spirits, watched it taken away.