“Oh, my boy! To think that you did not feel that God’s blessing and grace were worth standing out for against a lot of idle chaps; and now you won’t be able to take the Sacrament!”
“Father never would let I,” returned the boy.
“Oh, my dear, dear lad, don’t you know that you might have got strength, and would get strength, to stand up for yourself, and do what you ought. Oh dear! My hope is gone!” she cried bitterly, and though Johnnie got away from the sight, her distress really found its way into his heart, while he said very little except, “There, there, auntie, never mind. Maybe I’ll try again next time.”
“You promise me, John Hewlett; even if I’m not here to see?”
“Yes, I promise, aunt,” said he, glad to have silenced her regrets, and hoping the fulfilment was a good way off.
The parishioners, especially those who had only sons and not daughters, were very angry. They did not value Confirmation greatly, but that the curate after “making such a work with the poor lads as never was,” should have presumed to reject them made them furious. Mr Allen even threatened to write to Dr Fogram, but as he did not know how to address a letter to what he called “Oxford College,” he contented himself with walking off with his belongings to Downhill church every Sunday—that is, when they went anywhere.