“A mite o’ happiness won’t spoil you, my boy. There’s strength in you. And now I reckon your wife is waiting.” Nathan Johnson stood up.
Inside the house Frederick turned and clasped the hand of his host.
“How can I thank you?” he asked.
The older man smiled. “Fine words ain’t needed, son. The two of you are good for Ma and me. Now go ’long with you!”
And he sent him to Anna.
They were awakened by church bells. Then they heard the children getting off to church. Anna started up guiltily. Perhaps they were delaying Mrs. Johnson.
But over the house lay a sweet Sabbath calm; it ran all up and down the street—and over all New Bedford. The day passed in unhurried discussion of jobs and plans for the young folks. Now indeed Frederick must have a name.
“Some take the name of their old master.”
“I won’t.” Frederick spoke emphatically.
“Ay,” agreed Nathan. “No sense in tying a stone round your children’s necks. Give ’em a good name.” He grinned at Frederick and Anna. “When I look at you I think of somebody I read about—fellow by the name of Douglass.”