“And you will always—I mean, as long as you deserve it—find a friend in me.”
“Thank you, sir—I am sure you are—” There Franklin stopped short, for the recollection of all Mr. Spencer’s goodness rushed upon him at once, and he could not say another word.
“Bring me a candle to seal this letter,” said his master; and he was very glad to get out of the room. He came back with the candle, and, with a stout heart, stood by whilst the letter was sealing; and, when his master put it into his hand, said, in a cheerful voice, “I hope you will let me see you again, sir, sometimes.”
“Certainly; whenever your mistress can spare you, I shall be very glad to see you; and remember, if ever you get into any difficulty, don’t be afraid to come to me. I have sometimes spoken harshly to you; but you will not meet with a more indulgent friend.” Franklin at this turned away with a full heart; and, after making two or three attempts to express his gratitude, left the room without being able to speak.
He got to Queen’s Square about three o’clock. The door was opened by a large, red-faced man, in a blue coat and scarlet waistcoat, to whom he felt afraid to give his message, lest he should not be a servant.
“Well, what’s your business, sir?” said the butler.
“I have a letter for Mrs. Churchill, sir,” said Franklin, endeavouring to pronounce his “sir” in a tone as respectful as the butler’s was insolent.
The man having examined the direction, seal, and edges of the letter, carried it upstairs, and in a few minutes returned, and ordered Franklin to rub his shoes well and follow him. He was then shown into a handsome room, where he found his mistress—an elderly lady. She asked him a few questions, examining him attentively as she spoke; and her severe eye at first, and her gracious smile afterwards, made him feel that she was a person to be both loved and feared. “I shall give you in charge,” said she, ringing a bell, “to my housekeeper, and I hope she will have no reason to be displeased with you.”
The housekeeper, when she first came in, appeared with a smiling countenance; but the moment she cast her eyes on Franklin, it changed to a look of surprise and suspicion. Her mistress recommended him to her protection, saying, “Pomfret, I hope you will keep this boy under your own eye.” And she received him with a cold “Very well, ma’am,” which plainly showed that she was not disposed to like him. In fact, Mrs. Pomfret was a woman so fond of power, and so jealous of favour, that she would have quarrelled with an angel who had got so near her mistress without her introduction. She smothered her displeasure, however, till night; when, as she attended her mistress’ toilette, she could not refrain from expressing her sentiments. She began cautiously: “Ma’am, is not this the boy Mr. Spencer was talking of one day—that has been brought up by the Villaintropic Society, I think they call it?”
“Philanthropic Society; yes,” said her mistress; “and my brother gives him a high character: I hope he will do very well.”