"Hum—that's well. Not so bad as I thought. Did he go to chapel of a Sunday, now?"
"To church—St. George's."
"Hum—that's not so bad. Not much credit in making a better man of him," he muttered; "but I'll—rouse him!"
The next day he neglected his work on purpose to attempt the experiment. He was successful enough, for there was a rough eloquence inherent in him, and he had a fair cause to plead; and the result was, that the roused Mr. Wesden made his appearance arm in arm with Mr. Gray at Mattie's home.
"I've got him!" said Mr. Gray, triumphantly; "here's Mr. Wesden, Mattie. He has come to say how very sorry he was for all that parted you and him—haven't you, sir?"
"Very sorry," said Mr. Wesden, looking at Mattie askance; "I've been thinking of it a long while—yes, Mattie, very sorry!"
He held out both hands to her, and Mattie ran to him, clasped them in her own, shook them heartily, and then burst out crying on his shoulder.
"Oh! my first father!—I didn't think that you would believe wrong of me all your life!"
"No—and it was very wrong—Mattie. And all will be right now—you and your father must come and see us very often."
"Yes."