"My dear, I promised you a bow and arrows."
"No, uncle, you said a bow."
"Well, I meant a bow and arrows. I'm glad you are so exact, however. It is better to claim less than more than what is promised. The three arrows you shall have. But go on;—how shall I dispose of these five-and-twenty shillings for you?"
"In clothes, if you will be so good, uncle, for that poor boy who has got the great black patch on his eye."
"I always believed," said Mr. Gresham, shaking hands with Ben, "that economy and generosity were the best friends, instead of being enemies, as some silly, extravagant people would have us think them. Choose the poor blind boys' coat, my dear nephew, and pay for it. There's no occasion for my praising you about the matter: your best reward is in your own mind, child; and you want no other, or I'm mistaken. Now jump into the coach, boys, and let's be off. We shall be late, I'm afraid," continued he, as the coach drove on; "but I must let you stop, Ben, with your goods, at the poor boy's door."
When they came to the house, Mr. Gresham opened the coach door, and Ben jumped out with his parcel under his arm.
"Stay, stay! You must take me with you," said his pleased uncle. "I like to see people made happy as well as you do."
"And so do I too!" said Hal. "Let me come with you. I almost wish my uniform was not gone to the tailor's, so I do."
And when he saw the look of delight and gratitude with which the poor boy received the clothes which Ben gave him, and when he heard the mother and children thank him, Hal sighed, and said, "Well, I hope mamma will give me some more pocket-money soon."
Upon his return home, however, the sight of the famous bow and arrow, which Lady Diana Sweepstakes had sent him, recalled to his imagination all the joys of his green and white uniform, and he no longer wished that it had not been sent to the tailor's.