"Well, well, I must find some one to go home with thee." For though
my father had got me a sort of carriage in which, with a little
external aid, I could propel myself, so as to be his companion
occasionally in his walks between our house, the tanyard, and the
Friends' meeting-house--still he never trusted me anywhere alone.
"Here, Sally--Sally Watkins! do any o' thy lads want to earn an
honest penny?"

Sally was out of earshot; but I noticed that as the lad near us heard
my father's words, the colour rushed over his face, and he started
forward involuntarily. I had not before perceived how wasted and
hungry-looking he was.

"Father!" I whispered. But here the boy had mustered up his courage
and voice.

"Sir, I want work; may I earn a penny?"

He spoke in tolerably good English--different from our coarse, broad,
G---shire drawl; and taking off his tattered old cap, looked right up
into my father's face, The old man scanned him closely.

"What is thy name, lad?"

"John Halifax."

"Where dost thee come from?"

"Cornwall."