He sat on the gate till it began to grow dark, hoping every moment that he should see his brother return.
The little boy, who stood leaning against the gate-post, cried and sobbed at intervals; and looked towards his master’s house, which was within sight, at the distance of about a mile.
Archibald was always afraid of being in the dark; and he now began to consider whether he should not return home at once: he wondered why his brother did not return: sometimes he imagined that, perhaps, he had gone round some other way; and that by this time he had told the whole story at home: again he feared that some harm had befallen Harold: this thought made him feel very unhappy, especially when he remembered that his own misconduct had been the occasion of it; and that he ought, himself, to have gone back for the parcel: at last he resolved to go directly home, and give his Papa a full account of what had happened: he had scarcely made this resolution, when he perceived two or three persons coming across the field very quickly, carrying a lantern: he soon heard his Father’s voice: he ran up to him, crying out, “Papa, Papa, I am a naughty boy; indeed I am.”
“Is it you, my boy,” said his Father, who seemed very glad to find him; “but where have you been; and where is your brother?”
Archibald then related all that had happened; and told where his brother was gone.
His father immediately sent one of the servants home with him; charging him to tell his Mamma the whole story, and to say, that his Papa did not doubt he should soon find his brother; as he conjectured at once what had actually happened: he then dispatched the other servant to the cottage of the old woman to procure the keys; and proceeded himself to the church.
Poor Harold by this time had began to despair of being released from his confinement before the morning: he was now exhausted with fatigue and hunger; and he was very sleepy: he had just been roused again by the din of the clock striking ten, when he heard the joyful sound of his Father’s voice from the church-yard below, calling, “Harold, Harold!” He instantly replied, “Yes, Papa; yes, yes; here am I in the belfry.”
“A little more patience then, my dear boy, and we will let you out: the servant is gone to fetch the keys.”
Harold, reaching as far as he could out of the window, continued to converse with his Papa.
It was more than half an hour before the servant, who had been sent for the keys, returned.