Harold then related what James Mason had told him. His Father, turning to Archibald, asked if this account was true. “Yes,” said Archibald, between two sobs. “Then, Archibald, tell Richard Hobb that you acknowledge that you have acted very wrong.”
Archibald, without raising his head, or turning towards Richard, repeated the words his Father dictated;—
“Richard Hobb, I acknowledge that I have acted very wrong.”
“Now, Richard Hobb,” added the Father, “if I hear again that you fight with my son, I shall complain of you to your parents; and insist upon their punishing you. You may go.”
The boy seemed greatly relieved to be let off so easily. He shuffled away down the long gravel-walk, as though he had not the use of his legs: but the instant he passed the garden gate he ran off at full speed, till he was out of sight.
Archibald was punished by being kept a close prisoner to the house for three days, during which time his usual tasks were doubled.
There was an old church about two miles from the village, which stood in the fields, apart from any houses: the only cottage near it was inhabited by an old woman, who kept the keys and swept the church. The tower was more ornamented than is usual for country churches; and the lower part of it was beautifully covered with ivy. The church-yard was surrounded with lime trees, which made it very shady and pleasant in hot weather.
One fine afternoon, in the month of August, Harold and his brother walked to this church, as they often did: there were several children in the church-yard: one little boy, whose shoes were very dusty, and who seemed tired with a long walk, was sitting under the shade to rest himself: he had laid a small parcel on the grass, beside him; while he looked at the others, who were playing at marbles, on a flat tombstone.
The church was open, because it was Saturday afternoon; and the old woman was sweeping the church. Harold went in to look at the monuments, and read the inscriptions; there was a painted window also, which he thought very pretty; he asked the old woman some questions, but she only said, “hey, master;” and when he repeated it louder, she shook her head; for she could not hear a word: she went hobbling along the aisle, blowing out her hollow cheeks, and dusting the tops of the pews.
When Harold came out of the church, he looked about for his brother; but could not see him any where: at length he asked the children if they had seen him leave the church-yard: a little girl replied that she thought she had seen him go up the belfry stairs. At the same moment, a piece of mortar fell close to Harold’s feet, and broke to powder on the bricks with which the path was paved: looking up, he perceived his brother’s head at a narrow window, near the top of the tower: he bawled out, “Harold, Harold! you don’t look bigger than a mouse: here now, will you hold your hat for another bit of mortar.” Harold called to him that he had better come down, lest he should be locked in. At this hint, Archibald drew in his head instantly, and came clattering down the steps in great haste.