“No, father, I can’t do it,” said Guy.
“Why not?”
“I have two good reasons. In the first place, I suppose that all my acquaintances know by this time that I ran away from home.”
“I suppose they do,” said his father, “and that is all the punishment you will have to stand.”
“For the opinions of the majority I care nothing. Those who know all the circumstances will not judge me too harshly,” said Guy, astonished at the readiness with which he expressed himself. But then his heart was full of this matter. He had thought of it often and words came easy to him.
Mr. Harris elevated his eyebrows and looked surprised.
“Yes, sir,” continued Guy, who easily read the thoughts that were passing in his father’s mind. “I mean to say that every man and woman in Norwall who is intimate with our family will tell you to-day, if they tell you anything, that I had good reason for wishing to leave home. I never saw a moment’s peace there in my life.”
“Then why did you not come to me like a man and say so, instead of sneaking away like a thief in the night?” asked Mr. Harris with all the old sternness in his voice.
“I knew better. I did not care to put myself in the way of a whipping, and that is all the satisfaction I should have got.”
Whatever may have been Mr. Harris’ other faults, he was not dishonest. He did not deny this—he could not, so he hastened to change the subject.