“Change my clothes, oh no—I don’t mind a wet jacket. I’ll make a fire up for you though, if you please,” and he looked at my vacant hearth.
“Do so,” said I, and while he was engaged I perused my letters. Their contents were satisfactory and pleasing, and I sat ruminating on the past, with no painful anticipations about the future, while the boy went on with his self-imposed employment.
“There,” exclaimed he, as a cheerful crackling flame blazed up the chimney, “I think you’ll do, now.”
“So do I, Willy, and here is something for your pains.” I handed him a small silver piece. He took it with a rustic bow, and looked at it with delight. His face, cheerful before, now grew bright with pleasure. Down he sat, sans cérémonie, upon the hearth, and diving his hand into some unimaginable recess about his person, brought to light a dingy-looking rag, which he untied. In it I beheld a few pieces of copper coin. He added to them the silver which I had given him, retied his little bag, thanked me again, and was about to leave the room. My voice arrested him.
“Why, Willy, you are quite rich; what are you going to do with so much money?”
The boy actually blushed and hung his head.
“I know,” he replied.
“I suppose you do,” said I, “my man, and may I not know too?” He was silent. “It will go to buy tops and marbles, I suppose,” I added.
“No it won’t,” he answered, with quickness.
“Perhaps you are saving it till you get enough to purchase a new hat, or a pair of shoes. If so, I think, you are doing very right.”