John—Because he wanted me to tell lies.
Mother—(falling)—O God! O God! We are hungry and nearly naked, and may soon be houseless, but thou hast blessed us with an honest boy, which is a far more precious boon than food and raiment and shelter. (And she utters a long and fervent and grateful prayer to God, for the unwavering integrity of her beloved son, while Johnny and his father weep aloud on their bended knees.)
Father (the distracted mother still prostrate on the floor)—John: Did Mr. Bennett pay you what he owed you?
John—He offered to, but I would not take it.
Father—Why?
John—Because I thought he got it dishonestly, as he wanted me to tell lies.
Father—My landlord was here to-day, and I told him I expected some money from Mr. Bennett for your services, and he will be here this evening, for his rent, and I fear he will turn us into the street, when I tell him that I cannot pay him.
John—I am very sorry, father, that you will be cast into the street, on my account. (The father weeps, and the mother springs to her feet, and kisses Johnny, and swears that if the landlord attempts to drive them into the open air, she will dash his brains out.)
John (putting on his hat, and with one hand on the latch)—Don’t cry, dear father and mother, nor be excited and unhappy in my brief absence.
Mother—Where are you going, Johnny?