Have n't I, eh? Have n't I, Rowland?
It 's no use; the thing 's a failure! Do with me now what you please. I
recommend you to set me up there at the end of the garden and shoot me."
"I feel strongly inclined," said Rowland gravely, "to go and get my
revolver."
"Oh, mercy on us, what language!" cried Mrs. Hudson.
"Why not?" Roderick went on. "This would be a lovely night for it, and I
should be a lucky fellow to be buried in this garden. But bury me alive,
if you prefer. Take me back to Northampton."
"Roderick, will you really come?" cried his mother.
"Oh yes, I 'll go! I might as well be there as anywhere--reverting to
idiocy and living upon alms. I can do nothing with all this; perhaps I
should really like Northampton. If I 'm to vegetate for the rest of my
days, I can do it there better than here."
"Oh, come home, come home," Mrs. Hudson said, "and we shall all be safe
and quiet and happy. My dearest son, come home with your poor mother!"
"Let us go, then, and go quickly!"
Mrs. Hudson flung herself upon his neck for gratitude. "We 'll go
to-morrow!" she cried.
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