Then the rest went softly out of the room, and Phil had a few moments of blissful joy. He curled his arm around his mother’s neck, and kissed her over and over again. He hugged his father with eager affection; and then darted back to his mother—laughing, crying, now smoothing her hair, now crumpling her beautiful lace collar—perfectly beside himself with ecstasy.
All at once a band of musicians struck up a martial air, the great sliding-doors moved back, and Phil’s father and mother, taking his hands, went forward and introduced him to the company, for they were the owners of Woodlawn. All knew his story—for you can’t keep such a thing secret in a country place—and they looked at him with such intense interest, that he was becoming confused, when who should dart forward to welcome him but Kriss Luff and half a dozen of his old schoolmates, all wanting to shake hands at once, and this making him laugh, he was soon at his ease.
Oh, what a delightful evening it was! They played games and sang, they laughed and frolicked—the good minister joining in every thing, like a real Christian as he was. They partook in moderation of all manner of nice things which were loading down a table in the dining-room, and each one went home with the recollection of a delightful evening well spent.
Of course, Phil stayed at Woodlawn, and that was one little drop of unhappiness to the kind people with whom he had lived so long, and who had learned to love him very much. They could not bear to part with him. But Johnny was made so happy, that I do not think he knows to this day whether he walked home on his head or like other people; for Mr. Wiseman, patting his sturdy shoulders, said to him—
“Well, my son, are you tired of school yet?”
“Oh dear, no, sir. I love my books. I even love Dr. Gradus.”
“Well, that last is convincing; so if your good father, to whom I owe more than I shall ever be able to repay, will permit me to find him a farm-boy, you shall go to school and through college with Phil, and, if you like, choose a profession afterwards, still under my care.”
“Hurra! hurra!” cried Kriss and all the boys; “Johnny Goodfellow is coming back to school. Philip Badboy has flown to the moon, and Philip Wiseman is to come in his place. It’s the jolliest thing that ever happened. Three cheers for Mr. Wiseman.”
They gave three cheers and a “tiger,” a big one too, little Essie helping.
“Now,” said Kriss, who had voted himself master of ceremonies, “three cheers for Farmer Goodfellow.”