“It was at a place called Rocky Gulch. I don’t know what they call it now.”
“Didn’t father say anything about coming home when you left him?”
“He hadn’t fixed upon any time. He wanted to increase his pile. I suppose he felt dissatisfied because he hadn’t as much as I. He would have done better to come home with me.”
“I wish he had,” said Tom, sadly.
“Of course, it would have been better for him and for his family, but it can’t be helped now. I wonder you should bring up this old matter now. It can do no possible good. It was the Lord’s will that your father should be taken away, and we must submit to His will. It’s wicked to murmur against the plans of Providence.”
The rich man said all this in a brisk, business-like manner, as if he were quite reconciled to what had happened.
“Still,” said Tom, “we can’t help thinking of how changed our circumstances would have been if father had come home as you did.”
“Yes, yes; but you haven’t anything to complain of. You live comfortably, don’t you? I give you employment in my shop,” he added, pompously, “out of regard to your father’s memory.”
“Yes, sir, you give me employment,” said Tom, slowly.
He could not be brought to think this a very great favor, since he was only paid what other boys were for the same labor.