“Quite as good as independence; is it not, Jacob?”
“Better, much better, as I know to my cost,” replied I, laughing.
Tom finished his breakfast, and then took his leave. After breakfast, as usual, I went to the boat-house, and unchaining my wherry, pulled up the river, which I had not hitherto done; my attendance upon Sarah having invariably turned the bow of my wherry in the opposite direction. I swept by the various residences on the banks of the river until I arrived opposite to that of Mr Wharncliffe, and perceived a lady and gentleman in the garden. I knew them at once, and, as they were standing close to the wall, I pulled in and saluted them.
“Do you recollect me?” said I to them, smiling.
“Yes,” replied the lady, “I do recollect your face—surely—it is Faithful, the waterman!”
“No, I am not a waterman; I am only amusing myself in my own boat.”
“Come up,” replied Mr Wharncliffe; “we can’t shake hands with you at that distance.”
I made fast my wherry and joined them. They received me most cordially.
“I thought you were not a waterman, Mr Faithful, although you said that you were,” said Mrs Wharncliffe. “Why did you deceive us in that way?”
“Indeed, at that time I was, from my own choice and my own folly a waterman; now I am so no longer.”