‘I don’t want to box your ears. You’re welcome to the apple. Only don’t take what’s not your own another time.’ ‘But, please, sir, I’m so miserable!’
‘Home with you! and eat your apple as you go,’ was his unconsoling response.
‘I can’t eat it; I’m so ashamed of myself.’
‘When people do wrong, I suppose they must be ashamed of themselves. That’s all right, isn’t it?’
‘Why won’t you box my ears, then?’ I persisted.
{Illustration: “HERE IS A YOUNG GENTLEMAN, MRS. WILSON, WHO SEEMS TO
HAVE LOST HIS WAY."}
It was my sole but unavailing prayer. He turned away towards the house. My trouble rose to agony. I made some wild motion of despair, and threw myself on the grass. He turned, looked at me for a moment in silence, and then said in a changed tone—
‘My boy, I am sorry for you. I beg you will not trouble yourself any more. The affair is not worth it. Such a trifle! What can I do for you?’
I got up. A new thought of possible relief had crossed my mind.
‘Please, sir, if you won’t box my ears, will you shake hands with me?’