"Ah," said Jack mournfully, "I were very unfortunate, and very foolish too, to leave the work I could do as well as most, for work that wanted brains more than strength. But my Master knows I did my best, and that what happened, though it was my fault, was only a mistake, not a sin. But it is only fair that I should bear the blame, and they're very kind to me here, very kind."
"For all that, Jack, you won't sleep here another night! I have prospered beyond my hopes; and I have a comfortable home, a good business, and you will come home with me, and I'll take the best of care of you. I owe you so much, Jack—if I gave you every penny I have, I never could repay you—what you did for me was above all price."
But at first Jack would not hear of it; and Roger had to argue and persuade, and at last succeeded only when he bethought himself of saying how useful a really trustworthy assistant would be. Jack gave in at last.
"I would not, if I thought I'd live to be a burden," he said. "But I don't look to ever being an old man, you know. By the time you're ready to look-out for a wife, I'll be away. God bless you, Roger, I'll go with you."
Roger went out into the yard, where he found the master dawdling about, waiting for him. After a short consultation with him, he went into the town and repaired to a shop where they sold ready-made clothes, and purchased a modest outfit for his friend. Returning to the workhouse with his purchases in a neat box, he made Jack put off the grey uniform of the workhouse, and put on a decent suit of dark cloth, in which Jack declared shyly that he felt like a parson; but Roger could not help assuring him that he certainly did not look like one.
There was now but one thing to be done before they set off for home; it was to visit a certain grave with a small stone cross at its head, in St. Anne's Churchyard. Roger asked no questions—he knew that Jack's faithful heart was saying farewell to his long-lost Mary. Jack stood and gazed, and said, "My lass!" and that was all. He was always rather silent, and Roger took care not to speak to him until he seemed inclined for it. Next day they reached Kingsmore.
Great was the surprise of all who knew Roger Read when they made acquaintance with the friend he had brought home to live with him. Just at first, no one, except Mr. Aylmer, liked him very much. Mr. Aylmer took to him at once, and always said he was the truest, humblest Christian he had ever known.
Jack delighted in telling the story of Roger's search for him. He had no false shame about being found in the workhouse, or about being dependent on Roger now. He had worked when he could. The Master knew he couldn't work now, and put it into the boy's heart to love him.
And although deeply grateful for the love and tenderness which "the boy," as he called Roger, showed to him, he never failed to tell him plainly when he thought him in the wrong. He very soon saw that Roger's danger lay in the direction of pride and self-satisfaction, and that he was very hard upon the three boys he now had in his employment; and he pointed out these faults with unsparing frankness.
"Roger," he said to him once, "you'll be a Pharisee if you don't mind; and except me and Mr. Aylmer, everybody is trying to help you on to be one. But I'm bound to tell you the truth, for it is all I can do in return for all you are to me."