me. He did not at first, being busy over his horse; until, just as
the notion flashed across my mind that he was passing by our house--
also, how keenly his doing so would pain me--the lad looked up.

A beaming smile of surprise and pleasure, a friendly nod, then all at
once his manner changed; he took off his cap, and bowed ceremoniously
to his master's son.

For the moment I was hurt; then I could not but respect the honest
pride which thus intimated that he knew his own position, and wished
neither to ignore nor to alter it; all advances between us must
evidently come from my side. So, having made his salutation, he was
driving on, when I called after him,

"John! John!"

"Yes, sir. I am so glad you're better again."

"Stop one minute till I come out to you." And I crawled on my
crutches to the front door, forgetting everything but the pleasure of
meeting him--forgetting even my terror of Jael. What could she say?
even though she held nominally the Friends' doctrine--obeyed in the
letter at least, 'Call no man your master'--what would Jael say if
she found me, Phineas Fletcher, talking in front of my father's
respectable mansion with the vagabond lad who drove my father's cart
of skins?

But I braved her, and opened the door. "John, where are you?"

"Here" (he stood at the foot of the steps, with the reins on his