All the impudence had faded out of Bob's face. "Oh, sir," he begged, clasping his hands in his earnestness, "please look over it this once. What shall I do if you turn me off? I dare not tell my mother; you know, sir, that she is ill, and what I earn is all we have. I deserve it perhaps, sir, but she doesn't—just this once!" he pleaded.
Mr. Carlton felt some one touch his sleeve; it was Charlie. "I beg your pardon, sir," said Charlie, in a low tone, "but will you please forgive him this time?"
Mr. Carlton looked at him with surprise. "Are you begging for him? have you forgiven him?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," answered Charlie. "I am very sorry I lost my temper so. I have been well taught, and perhaps he hasn't."
Mr. Carlton considered for a moment.
Bob could not hear what Charlie was saying, but he fancied from his manner that he was telling his wrongs, and a sullen, angry expression spread over his face.
"Come here, White," said Mr. Carlton. "I have consented to look over your bad conduct once more; but remember you owe it to this boy," putting his hand on Charlie's shoulder; "he has pleaded for you; he has returned you good for evil: see that you are not ungrateful." He then left them, after asking Charlie his name.
Bob stood still, feeling and looking very awkward. Charlie went up to him, and held out his hand. "You'll shake hands and be friends, Bob, won't you?"
Bob shook hands shyly, and turned away to his work without speaking; but Charlie fancied he saw tears in his eyes.
Soon after it was time for the men to leave. They came pouring out in all directions from the workings of the mine, and Charlie was kept busy. Hudson Brownlee came nearly last.