John lifted to him a mute look, from which all pride had ebbed away.

"I repeat, I have been mistaken in thee! Thee seemed a lad to my
mind; I trusted thee. This day, by my son's wish, I meant to have
bound thee 'prentice to me, and in good time to have taken thee into
the business. Now--"

There was silence. At last John muttered, in a low broken-hearted
voice, "I deserve it all. I can go away. I might perhaps earn my
living elsewhere; shall I?"

Abel Fletcher hesitated, looked at the poor lad before him (oh,
David! how unlike to thee), then said, "No--I do not wish that. At
least, not at present."

I cried out in the joy and relief of my heart. John came over to me,
and we clasped hands.

"John, you will not go?"

"No, I will stay to redeem my character with your father. Be
content, Phineas--I won't part with you."

"Young man, thou must," said my father, turning round.

"But--"

"I have said it, Phineas. I accuse him of no dishonesty, no crime,
but of weakly yielding, and selfishly causing another to yield, to