As they were sitting at the tea-table, Phil said—
“There is a note for you, sir, on the table in the living-room.”
“Oh, is there? Hannah, will you bring it here? It looks like something important,” he continued, as he took it in his hand. “Hm—hm—hm. Well, wife, what do you think it is? An invitation for all of us to spend to-morrow evening at Woodlawn.”
“Indeed!” said Mrs. Goodfellow, with a bright but peculiar smile on her face. “Phil is invited, of course?”
“Certainly; and I am glad and proud to say that I know he will do himself credit now, wherever he goes. Our good minister is to be there too.”
“Oh, I am glad of that!” said Phil; “he is my best earthly friend—” He stopped, and his eyes filled with tears.
“What is the name of the family who have bought Woodlawn?” asked Johnny.
“Such a curious chap as it is!” answered the farmer, laughing. “Never mind the name till to-morrow.”
That night there was another cot-bed put in the garret, and Phil and Johnny had a long affectionate talk together. Phil frankly told all about himself, and what Essie and the good minister, with God’s blessing, had helped him to do; and Johnny cheered and encouraged him, and told him that he had no doubt but that Phil’s parents had heard of his good conduct, and might be expected at the farm almost any day.
But the poor little fellow suffered terribly himself while he was saying all these kind things, for, as you know, Phil’s gain would be his loss. If Mr. Wiseman was convinced of his son’s reformation, Johnny must go back to farm work, and resign his precious hopes of growing up a learned man. His kind father had not yet paid all the money for his farm; he could not afford to hire another boy in his dear son’s place; and now a few months in winter at the district school was all that Johnny must expect.