About three o'clock yesterday! And what was he doing at that time? He bent his head over to his very knees, hiding his face in his hands.
"But why didn't you let me know it? Why didn't you come in?"
"Mrs. Spurlock told me you were at work on a sermon."
"God forgive me!" murmured the parson, with a groan.
"I thought you'd lend me a quarter," said the boy, simply. "You took the other boys, and you told me I must be certain to go. I thought you'd lend me a quarter till I could pay you back."
"Oh, David!" cried the parson, getting down on his knees by the bedside, and putting his arms around the boy's neck, "I would have lent you—I would have given you—anything I have in this poor world!"
The boy threw his arms around the parson's neck and clasped him close. "Forgive me!"
"Oh, boy! boy! can you forgive me?" Sobs stifled the parson's utterance, and he went to a window on the opposite side of the room.
When he turned his face inward again, he saw the boy's gaze fixed once more intently upon the violin.