general. He was an entire boy then. But he had been East since, East by a
route of his own discovering--and from his account of that journey it had
proved, I think, a sort of spiritual experience. And then the years of
our friendship were beginning to roll up. Manhood of the body he had
always richly possessed; and now, whenever we met after a season's
absence and spoke those invariable words which all old friends upon this
earth use to each other at meeting--"You haven't changed, you haven't
changed at all!"--I would wonder if manhood had arrived in Lin's boy
soul. And so to-day, while he attended to my horse and explained the
nature of Tommy (a subject he dearly loved just now), I looked at him and
took an intimate, superior pride in feeling how much more mature I was
than he, after all.

There's nothing like a sense of merit for making one feel aggrieved, and
on our return to the cabin Mr. McLean pointed with disgust to some
firewood.

"Look at those sorrowful toothpicks," said he: "Tommy's work."

So Lin, the excellent hearted, had angrily busied himself, and chopped a
pile of real logs that would last a week. He had also cleaned the stove,
and nailed up the bed, the pillow-end of which was on the floor. It
appeared the master of the house had been sleeping in it the reverse way
on account of the slant. Thus had Lin cooked and dined alone, supped
alone, and sat over some old newspapers until bed-time alone with his
sense of virtue. And now here it was long after breakfast, and no Tommy
yet.

"It's good yu' come this forenoon," Lin said to me. "I'd not have had the
heart to get up another dinner just for myself. Let's eat rich!"