"No, Sister March, I reckon his darts, fifty times to one, ah turned aside fum us by the providence that's round us, not by the po' little patchin' o' grace that's in us."
John's heart jumped. Garnet looked in and beckoned him out. He went.
"John "—the voice was tearful—"I offer my hand in penitent gratitude." John took it. "Yes, my dear boy, my feet had well-nigh slipped."
"I oughtn't to have spoken as I did, Major Garnet."
"It was the word of the Lord, John. It saved me and my spotless name! The mistake had just begun, in mere play, but it might have grown into actual sin—of impulse, I mean, of course—not of action; my lifelong correctness of——"
"Oh, I'm sure of that sir! I only wish I——"
"God bless you! I've a good notion to tell your mother this whole thing, John, just to make her still prouder of you." He squeezed the young man's hand. "But I reckon for others' sakes we'd better not breathe it."
"O, I think so, sir! I promise——"
"You needn't have promised, John. Your think-so was promise enough. And a mighty good thing for us all it's so. For, John March, you're the hope of Suez!
"You've got the key of all our fates in your pocket, John—you and your mother now, and you when you come into full charge of the estate next year. That's why Jeff-Jack's always been so willing to help me to help you on. But never mind that, only—beware of new friends. When they come fawning on you with offers to help you develop the resources of Widewood, you tell 'em——"