"Don't call me 'sir'; I am only a boy like yourself. I want you;
don't go yet. Ah! here comes my father!"

John Halifax stood aside, and touched his cap with a respectful
deference, as the old man passed.

"So here thee be--hast thou taken care of my son? Did he give thee
thy groat, my lad?"

We had neither of us once thought of the money.

When I acknowledged this my father laughed, called John an honest
lad, and began searching in his pocket for some larger coin. I
ventured to draw his ear down and whispered something--but I got no
answer; meanwhile, John Halifax for the third time was going away.

"Stop, lad--I forget thy name--here is thy groat, and a shilling
added, for being kind to my son."

"Thank you, but I don't want payment for kindness."

He kept the groat, and put back the shilling into my father's hand.

"Eh!" said the old man, much astonished, "thee'rt an odd lad; but I
can't stay talking with thee. Come in to dinner, Phineas. I say,"
turning back to John Halifax with a sudden thought, "art thee
hungry?"

"Very hungry." Nature gave way at last, and great tears came into
the poor lad's eyes. "Nearly starving."