“Take care that you don’t go from one extreme into another, Pomfret; don’t spoil the boy.”
“No, ma’am, there’s no danger of that; but I’m sure if you had seen him last night yourself, you would think he deserved to be rewarded.”
“And so he shall be rewarded,” said Mrs. Churchill; “but I will try him more fully yet.”
“There’s no occasion, I think, for trying him any more, ma’am,” said Mrs. Pomfret, who was as violent in her likings as in her dislikes.
“Pray desire,” continued her mistress, “that he will bring up breakfast this morning; and leave the key of the house-door, Pomfret, with me.”
When Franklin brought the urn into the breakfast-parlour, his mistress was standing by the fire with the key in her hand. She spoke to him of his last night’s exertions in terms of much approbation. “How long have you lived with me?” said she, pausing; “three weeks, I think?”
“Three weeks and four days, madam.”
“That is but a short time; yet you have conducted yourself so as to make me think I may depend upon you. You know this key?”
“I believe, madam, it is the key of the house-door.”
“It is; I shall trust it in your care. It is a great trust for so young a person as you are.” Franklin stood silent, with a firm but modest look. “If you take the charge of this key,” continued his mistress, “remember it is upon condition that you never give it out of your own hands. In the daytime it must not be left in the door. You must not tell anybody where you keep it at night; and the house-door must not be unlocked after eleven o’clock at night, unless by my orders. Will you take charge of the key upon these conditions?”