“What a splendid fellow Harry is,” said Tom, warmly, to himself; “not much like Rupert. I really believe Rupert would be glad to see me in the poor-house. If I were rich and he were poor, I would try to help him, and not be mean enough to rejoice in his misfortune.”
When Harry went home he lost no time in telling his father of Tom’s misfortune, and what he had done to relieve it.
“I thought you would approve, father,” he said.
“Approve, my son! I rejoice at your kindness of heart. You could not have pleased me more.”
“I am afraid Tom will find it hard to get anything to do,” said Harry, thoughtfully.
“Can he write a good hand?”
“Yes, he writes a very plain hand.”
“Then, if he gets nothing better to do, I will offer to employ him as a copyist to copy some of my old sermons. I will pay him as much as Mr. Simpson has been paying.”
“Shall I tell him?” asked Harry.
“No; I prefer that he should get employment elsewhere if he can, for this copying would only be a makeshift. It would not lead to anything permanent. Still, if he finds nothing else, I will offer him four weeks employment in my study.”