"That—that there's no ill-feeling between us, Jack. You know 'twasn't with me as 'tis with Roger. I had wife and children to think of, and—'Charity begins at home.'"
"All right," said Roger; "but you'd do well to ask yours to take a walk occasionally."
And he marched back into his parlour without saying good-bye.
"I—hope there's no ill-feeling," repeated Avery, awkwardly.
"I hope not, Tom. There's none on my side. Mind you, I can't tell a lie, and I did feel that you might ha' given me house-room when I left the hospital, till I could look about and see if I could earn my keep in any way. I won't deny that I thought, and that I think still, that you might ha' done that, and Bess was more than willing.
"But I wasn't the one you injured, Tom. The workhouse did me no harm, but you missed the doing of a kind act, and you know the Master would ha' reckoned it as done to Himself; and I somehow doubt you're not the happier for it. But as to forgiving you, I do that, Tom, hearty! Shake hands—and give my love to Bess, and tell her I live like a prince now, and am very happy and content."
Avery grasped the offered hand, and left the shop in silence.
"Is he gone?" said Roger, presently.
"He is, and you never said a kind word to him, and that wasn't right, Roger. You may do something wrong yourself one day, and if you get the measure you're inclined to give, you'll be in a bad way, boy."
For five years Jack Sparling lived with Roger, and those years made a great change in the young man. No one could be much with so thorough a Christian, and not learn from him, unless resolutely determined not to learn. And Roger, to use his own words, was "right glad of the chance, for I don't want to be a Pharisee."