“Oh, why, dear father?”
“Ask no questions but do as I bid you.”
Arthur burst out a crying, and only said, “Yes, father, I’ll do as you bid me, to be sure.”
“Why now, what does the boy cry for? Is there no other boy, simpleton, think you, to play with, but this Scotchman’s son! I’ll find out another play-fellow for ye, child, if that be all.”
“That’s not all, father,” said Arthur, trying to stop himself from sobbing; “but the thing is, I shall never have such another play-fellow,—I shall never have such another friend as Maurice Grant.”
“Like father like son—you may think yourself well off to have done with him.”
“Done with him! Oh, father, and shall I never go again to work in his garden, and may not he come to mine?”
“No,” replied Oakly, sturdily; “his father has used me uncivil, and no man shall use me uncivil twice. I say no. Wife, sweep up this hearth. Boy, don’t take on like a fool; but eat thy bacon and greens, and let’s hear no more of Maurice Grant.”
Arthur promised to obey his father. He only begged that he might once more speak to Maurice, and tell him that it was by his father’s orders he acted. This request was granted; but when Arthur further begged to know what reason he might give for this separation, his father refused to tell his reasons. The two friends took leave of one another very sorrowfully.
Mr. Grant, when he heard of all this, endeavoured to discover what could have offended his neighbour; but all explanation was prevented by the obstinate silence of Oakly.