And then he had the first calm full night's sleep in over a month and came down to breakfast singing "The Orange and the Black," and all the family thought it a "real pretty song," and did not know that Will sang it to a tune of his own.
He felt like a new man. Perhaps he was.
"Father," said Mrs. Young, "look at Will; he's better already. I knew my cooking and a little home comfort would do worlds for him. And I guess," she added, in Mr. Young's ear, "you cheered him up more by giving him that money, father."
Mr. Young felt that he had been pretty generous, but he only growled.
They did not know the real reason Will was so exuberant this bright sunny morning.
Was it necessary for them to know? That was one thing left to worry about: whether it would be right to overwhelm his parents by telling them of what their son had been through, or would it be wrong to keep on taking their love and sympathy (as it seemed he had received his father's check) on false pretences? He kept on being perplexed until he finally confessed his whole story to the minister and asked him what to do about it.
The minister, in his straightforward way, asked, "Have you confessed it to God, Will?"
"Yes, sir," said Will, dropping his eyes.
"And has He forgiven you?"
Will paused a moment. "I think He has now."