Impulsive, excited boy that he was, Will could not keep the climax of his adventure of the afternoon and evening as a denouement to a continuous narrative, but, flushed with delight at imparting surprise and pleasure to others, he laid the crisp, new bill at his mother’s plate.
“Will! Will!” she cried, in utter amazement, “where did you get this?”
“Earned it.”
The incredulous, almost anxious, expression in his mother’s face made Will hasten his explanation.
The repast was deferred, as with bated breath and wondering faces his parents listened to his recital.
He saw his father’s face grow grave as he told of his encounter with Captain Morris, and that of his mother blanch with anxiety when he described his ascent of the steeple.
No chiding words fell from his father’s lips when he had concluded his narrative. Instead, he said, calmly:
“It is not a question of incurring Captain Morris’ enmity, Will, it is a simple question of right and wrong. His conduct to poor Tom Dalton was cruel in the extreme, and I am afraid I should have done just as you did in telling him to run away. As to defying Morris and trying to resist his anger as you did, hereafter I would simply keep out the way of such men.”
“He cannot injure you, father, as he threatened?” inquired Will, anxiously.
“No, Will, at least not until the next interest note is due, six months hence, and by that time it looks as if my brave boy intends to have enough money to settle the claim for good.”