She talked to Willy with many sighs and tears; implored him to be a good
boy and enter on good courses, not on bad ones that would break her
heart. Willy, the little scapegrace, was willing to promise anything. He
laughed and made light of it; it wasn't his fault if folks told stories
about him; she couldn't be so foolish as to give ear to them. London? Oh,
he should be all right in London! One or two fellows here were rather
fast, there was no denying it; and they drew him with them; they were
older than he, and ought to have known better. Once away from Calne, they
could have no more influence over him, and he should be all right.

She believed him; putting faith in the plausible words. Oh, what trust
can be so pure, and at the same time so foolish, as that placed by a
mother in a beloved son! Mrs. Gum had never known but one idol on earth;
he who now stood before her, lightly laughing at her fears, making his
own tale good. She leaned forward and laid her hands upon his shoulders
and kissed him with that impassioned fervour that some mothers could tell
of, and whispered that she would trust him wholly.

Mr. Willy extricated himself with as little impatience as he could help:
these embraces were not to his taste. And yet the boy did love his
mother. She was not at all a wise woman, or a clever one; rather silly,
indeed, in many things; but she was fond of him. At this period he was
young-looking for his age, slight, and rather undersized, with an
exceedingly light complexion, a wishy-washy sort of face with no colour
in it, unmeaning light eyes, white eyebrows, and ragged-looking light
hair with a tawny shade upon it.

Willy Gum departed for London, and entered on his engagement in the great
banking-house of Goldsworthy and Co.