“Yes, you have indeed,” replied Joey; “you are no longer the little girl who comforted me when I was so unhappy. Do you recollect that day?”
“Yes, indeed I do, as if it were but yesterday. But you have never told me why you lead so wandering a life; you won’t trust me.”
“I would trust you with anything but that which is not mine to trust, as I told you four years ago; it is not my secret; as soon as I can I will tell you everything; but I hope not to lead a wandering life any longer, for I have come down here to settle, if I can.”
“What made you think of coming down here?” asked Emma.
“Because you were here; Mary told me so. I have not yet thanked you for your present, but I have not forgotten your kindness in thinking of a poor boy like me, when he was far away; here it is,” continued Joey, taking out the pencil-case, “and I have loved it dearly,” added he, kissing it, “ever since I have had it in my possession. I very often have taken it out and thought of you.”
“Now you are so rich a man, you should give me something to keep for your sake,” replied Emma; “and I will be very careful of it, for old acquaintance’ sake.”
“What can I offer to you? you are a young lady; I would give you all I had in the world, if I dared, but—”
“When I first saw you,” rejoined Emma, “you were dressed as a young gentleman.”
“Yes, I was,” replied Joey, with a sigh; and as the observation of Emma recalled to his mind the kindness of the McShanes, he passed his hand across his eyes to brush away a tear or two that started.
“I did not mean to make you unhappy,” said Emma, taking our hero’s hand.