When Tom Lane was along about fourteen years old his father died.
'Twas of a Sunday afternoon that we stowed un away. I mind the time:
spring weather and a fair day, with the sun low, and the birds
twittering in the alders just afore turning in.

Pinch-a-Penny Peter cotched up with young Tom on the road home from
the little graveyard on Sunset Hill.

"Well, lad," says he, "the old skipper's gone."

"Ay, sir, he's dead an' buried."

"A fine man," says Pinch-a-Penny. "None finer."

With that young Tom broke out crying. "He were a kind father t' we,"
says he. "An' now he's dead!"

"You lacked nothin' in your father's lifetime," says Peter.

"An' now he's dead!"

"Well, well, you've no call t' be afeared o' goin' hungry on that
account," says Peter, laying an arm over the lad's shoulder. "No, nor
none o' the little crew over t' your house. Take up the fishin' where
your father left it off, lad," says he, "an' you'll find small
difference. I'll cross out your father's name on the books an' put
down your own in its stead."

"I'm fair obliged," says Tom. "That's kind, sir."

"Nothin' like kindness t' ease sorrow," says Pinch-a-Penny. "Your
father died in debt, lad."

"Ay, sir?"

"Deep."

"How much, sir?"

"I'm not able t' tell offhand," says Peter. "'Twas deep enough. But
never you care. You'll be able t' square it in course o' time. You're
young an' hearty. An' I'll not be harsh. Damme, I'm no skinflint!"

"That's kind, sir."

"You--you--_will_ square it?"

"I don't know, sir."

"What?" cries Peter. "What! You're not knowin', eh? That's saucy talk.
You had them there supplies?"

"I 'low, sir."

"An' you guzzled your share, I'll be bound!"

"Yes, sir."

"An' your mother had her share?"

"Yes, sir."

"An' you're not knowin' whether you'll pay or not! Ecod! What is you?
A scoundrel? A dead beat? A rascal? A thief? A jail-bird?"

"No, sir."

"'Tis for the likes o' you that jails was made."

"Oh, no, sir!"

"Doesn't you go t' church? Is that what they learns you there? I'm
thinkin' the parson doesn't earn what I pays un. Isn't you got no
conscience?"

'Twas too much for young Tom. You sees, Tom Lane _had_ a conscience--a
conscience as fresh and as young as his years. And Tom had loved his
father well. And Tom honored his father's name. And so when he had
brooded over Pinch-a-Penny's words for a spell--and when he had maybe
laid awake in the night thinking of his father's goodness--he w