"And then, to tell the truth, Doctor, between you and I," (and the Squire was working himself into some earnestness,) "I don't believe that all the wickedness in the world is cooped up in the cities. In my opinion, the small towns have a pretty fair sprinkling,—a pretty fair sprinkling, Doctor; and if it's contagious, as I've heard, I think I know of some places in country parishes that might be called infectious. And I tell you what it is, Doctor, the Devil" (and he twitched upon the Doctor's coat as if he were in a political argument) "doesn't confine himself to large towns. He goes into the rural districts, in my opinion, about as regularly as the newspapers; and he holds his ground a confounded sight longer."
How much these views may have weighed with the Doctor it would be impossible to say. If they did not influence directly, they were certainly suggestive of considerations which did have their weight. The result was, that permission was given for the stay of Reuben, on condition that Mr. Brindlock could give him constant occupation, and that he should be regular in his attendance on the Sabbath at the Fulton-Street Church. Shortly after, the Doctor goes to the city, provided, by the watchful care of Miss Eliza, with a complete wardrobe for the truant boy, and bearing kind messages from the household. But chiefly it is the Doctor's object to give his poor boy due admonition for his great breach of duty, and to insist upon his writing to the worthy Mr. Brummem a full apology for his conduct. He also engages his friend of the Fulton-Street parish to have an eye upon his son, and to report to him at once any wide departure from the good conduct he promises.
Reuben writes the apology insisted upon to Mr. Brummem in this style:—
"My Dear Sir,—I am sorry that I threw 'Daboll' in your face as I did, and hope you will forgive the same.
"Yours respectfully."
But after the Doctor's approval of this, the lad cannot help adding a postscript of his own to this effect:—
"P.S. I hope old Whiteface didn't lose a shoe when you drove out on the river road? I saw you; for I was sitting in the edge of the woods, eating Keziah's gingerbread. Please thank her, and give my respects to all the fellows."
Miss Johns considers it her duty to write a line of expostulation to her nephew, which she does, with faultless penmanship, in this strain:—
"We were shocked to hear of your misconduct toward the worthy Mr. Brummem. I could hardly believe it possible that Master Reuben Johns had been guilty of such an indiscretion. Your running away was, I think, uncalled for, and the embarkment upon the sloop, under the circumstances, was certainly very reprehensible. I trust that we shall hear only good accounts of you from this period forth, and that you will be duly grateful for your father's distinguished kindness in allowing you to stay in New York. I shall be happy to have you write to me an occasional epistle, and hope to see manifest a considerable improvement in your handwriting. Does Sister Mabel wear her ermine cape this winter? I trust we shall hear of your constant attendance at the Fulton-Street Church, and hear only commendation of you in whatever, duties you may be called to engage. Adèle speaks of you often, and I think misses you very much indeed."
Yet the spinster aunt was not used to flatter Reuben with any such mention as this. "What can she mean," said he, musingly, "by talking such stuff to me?"