"
Hope shone in Thorn's melancholy eyes, and long-suffering
all-forgiving love beautified the rough, brown face, as he folded
his arms and bent his gray head on his breast, as if the wanderer
were already come.
The emotion which Dick scorned to show on his own account was freely
manifested for another, as he sniffed audibly, and, boy-like, drew
his sleeve across his eyes. But Phil, with the delicate perception
of a finer nature, felt that the truest kindness he could show his
friend was to distract his thoughts from himself, to spare him any
comments, and lessen the embarrassment which would surely follow
such unwonted confidence.
"Now I'll relieve Flint, and he will give you a laugh. Come on Hiram
and tell us about your Beulah."
The gentleman addressed had performed his duty, by sitting on a
fence and "righting up" his pockets, to beguile the tedium of his
exile. Before his multitudinous possessions could be restored to
their native sphere, Thorn was himself again, and on his feet.
"Stay where you are Phil; I like to tramp, it seems like old times,
and I know you're tired. Just forget all this I've been saying, and
go on as before. Thank you, boys! thank you!" and with a grasp of
the two hands extended to him, he strode away along the path already
worn by his own restless feet.
"It's done him good, and I'm glad of that; but I'd like to see the
little baggage that bewitched the poor old boy, wouldn't you, Phil?"
"Hush! here's Flint.
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