"A fine, fine lad ye are," said Darrel, looking proudly at the young man, who stood now quite composed. "Let me take thy hand. Ay, 'tis a mighty arm ye have, an' some day, some day it will shake the towers."
"You will both dine with me in my quarters at one," said the warden, presently.
Trove turned with a look of surprise.
"Thank ye, sor; an' mind ye make room for Wit an' Happiness," said the tinker.
"Bring them along—they're always welcome at my table," the warden answered with a laugh.
"Know ye not they're in prison, now, for keeping bad company?" said Darrel, as he turned. "At one, boy," he, added, shaking the boy's hand. "Ah, then, good cheer an' many a merry jest."
Darrel left the room, waving his hand. Trove and the warden made their way to the prison office.
"A wonderful man!" said the latter, as they went. "We love and respect him and give him all the liberty we can. For a long time he has been nursing in the hospital, and when I see that he is overworking I bring him to my office and set him at easy jobs."
Darrel came presently, and they went to dinner. The tinker bowed politely to the warden's wife and led her to the table.
"Good friends," said he, as they were sitting down, "there is an hour that is short o' minutes an' yet holds a week o' pleasure—who pan tell me which hour it is?"