Meanwhile, John put his two hands on my shoulders, and looked hard into my face—his was slightly flushed and excited, I thought.
"Phineas, are you tired?"
"Not at all."
"Do you feel strong enough to go to Coltham? Would it do you no harm? Would you LIKE to go?"
To all these hurried questions I answered with as hurried an affirmative. It was sufficient to me that he evidently liked to go.
"It is only for once—your father would not grudge us the pleasure, and he is too busy to be out of the tan-yard before midnight. We will be home soon after then, if I carry you on my back all the ten miles. Come, mount, we'll go."
"Bravo!" cried Mr. Charles, and leaned over to help me up the coach's side. John followed, and the crisis was past.
But I noticed that for several miles he hardly spoke one word.