My father thought a minute, and then offered his hand. "Thee'rt in the right, lad. I am very much obliged to thee, and I will not forget it."
And John—blushing brightly once more—went away, looking as proud as an emperor, and as happy as a poor man with a bag of gold.
"Is there nothing thou canst think of, Phineas, that would pleasure the lad?" said my father, after we had been talking some time—though not about John.
I had thought of something—something I had long desired, but which seemed then all but an impossibility. Even now it was with some doubt and hesitation that I made the suggestion that he should spend every Sunday at our house.
"Nonsense!—thee know'st nought of Norton Bury lads. He would not care. He had rather lounge about all First-day at street corners with his acquaintance."
"John has none, father. He knows nobody—cares for nobody—but me. Do let him come."
"We'll see about it."
My father never broke or retracted his word. So after that John Halifax came to us every Sunday; and for one day of the week, at least, was received in his master's household as our equal and my friend.