I went home, and found my father more comfortable than in the morning; but he was still very sick, and unable to leave his bed. In the evening I went out to purchase a suit of clothes, which I so much needed. I obtained a complete outfit, which would enable me to attend church the next day, looking like other young men of my age, in the humbler walks of life. Mrs. Greenough had been very particular in urging me to be prepared for church and Sunday school, and had even offered to lend me money to purchase the needed articles. I told her I had never been to church in my life, and I was very glad of the opportunity.
When my bundle was ready I turned to leave the store. A young man, whose form and dress looked familiar to me,—though I did not see his face, for he was looking at the goods in a glass case,—followed me into the street.
"Phil," said he; and I recognized the voice of Morgan Blair, the young man who had been discharged that afternoon by Mr. Clinch.
I paused to see what he wanted, though I was not very anxious to make his acquaintance after what I knew of him.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I want to see you about a matter that interests me," he added.
"What is that?"
"They say you came from way up the Missouri River. Is that so?"
"That's so."