The permission given to Joey to stretch his legs induced him to set off as fast as he could to gain the high road before his little friend, Emma Phillips, had left her school. He sat down in the same place, waiting for her coming. The spot had become hallowed to the poor fellow, for he had there met with a friend—with one who sympathised with him when he most required consolation. He now felt happy, for he was no longer in doubt about obtaining his livelihood, and his first wish was to impart the pleasing intelligence to his little friend. She was not long before she made her appearance in her little straw bonnet with blue ribbons. Joey started up, and informed her that he had got a very nice place, explained to her what it was, and how he had been employed during the day.
“And I can very often come out about this time, I think,” added Joey, “and then I can walk home with you, and see that you come to no harm.”
“But,” replied the little girl, “my mother says that she would like to see you, as she will not allow me to make acquaintance with people I meet by accident. Don’t you think that mother is right?”
“Yes, I do; she’s very right,” replied Joey; “I didn’t think of that.”
“Will you come and see her, then?”
“Not now, because I am not very clean. I’ll come on Sunday, if I can get leave.”
They separated, and Joey returned back to the town. As he walked on, he thought he would spend the money he had got in a suit of Sunday clothes, of a better quality than those he had on, the materials of which were very coarse. On second thoughts, he resolved to apply to Mrs Chopper, as he did not exactly know where to go for them, and was afraid that he would be imposed upon.
“Well, Peter,” said his new mistress, “do you feel better for your walk?”
“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”
“Peter,” continued Mrs Chopper, “you appear to be a very handy, good boy, and I hope we shall live together a long while. How long have you been at sea?”