“No take money?”
“Yes, take money to cross the river, but not take money for saying prayers. If you want to say them any other morning, come down, and if I am here, I’ll always pull you into the stream.”
“You very good man; I thank you.”
The Parsee made me a low salaam, and walked away. I may here observe that the man generally came down at sunrise two or three days in the week, and I invariably gave him a pull off into the stream, that he might pursue his religious ceremony. We often conversed and at last became intimate.
Mr Turnbull was at the bottom of the lawn, which extended from his house to the banks of the river, looking out for me, when I pulled up. The basket with our dinner, etcetera, was lying by him on the gravel walk.
“This is a lovely morning, Jacob; but it will be rather a warm day, I expect,” said he; “come, let us be off at once; lay in your sculls, and let us get the oars to pass.”
“How is Mrs Turnbull, sir?”
“Pretty well, Jacob; more like the Molly Brown that I married than she has been for some years. Perhaps, after all, this affair may turn out one of the best things that ever happened. It may bring her to her senses—bring happiness back to our hearth; if so, Jacob, the money is well spent.”