"Not good-bye just yet!" said I, trying painfully to disengage myself from my little carriage and mount the steps. John Halifax came to my aid.
"Suppose you let me carry you. I could—and—and it would be great fun, you know."
He tried to turn it into a jest, so as not to hurt me; but the tremble in his voice was as tender as any woman's—tenderer than any woman's I ever was used to hear. I put my arms round his neck; he lifted me safely and carefully, and set me at my own door. Then with another good-bye he again turned to go.
My heart cried after him with an irrepressible cry. What I said I do not remember, but it caused him to return.
"Is there anything more I can do for you, sir?"
"Don't call me 'sir'; I am only a boy like yourself. I want you; don't go yet. Ah! here comes my father!"
John Halifax stood aside, and touched his cap with a respectful deference, as the old man passed.
"So here thee be—hast thou taken care of my son? Did he give thee thy groat, my lad?"
We had neither of us once thought of the money.
When I acknowledged this my father laughed, called John an honest lad, and began searching in his pocket for some larger coin. I ventured to draw his ear down and whispered something—but I got no answer; meanwhile, John Halifax for the third time was going away.