ing with the former, as on
Sunday nights, with stars over our head, was natural and fit we should
do.

"Phineas," said John, sitting on the grass with his hands upon his
knees, and the one star, I think it was Jupiter, shining down into his
eyes, deepening them into that peculiar look, worth any so-called
"handsome eyes;"--"Phineas, I wonder how soon we shall have to rise up
from this quiet, easy life, and fight our battles in the world? Also, I
wonder if we are ready for it?"

"I think you are."

"I don't know. I'm not clear how far I could resist doing anything
wrong, if it were pleasant. So many wrong things are pleasant--just
now, instead of rising to-morrow, and going into the little dark
counting-house, and scratching paper from eight till six, shouldn't I
like to break away!--dash out into the world, take to all sorts of wild
freaks, do all sorts of grand things, and perhaps never come back to
the tanning any more."

"Never any more?"

"No! no! I spoke hastily. I did not mean I ever should do such a wrong
thing; but merely that I sometimes feel the wish to do it. I can't
help it; it's my Apollyon that I have to fight with--everybody keeps a
private Apollyon, I fancy. Now, Phineas, be content; Apollyon is
beaten down."

He rose up, but I thought that, in the red glow of the twilight, he
looked rather pale. He stretched his hand to help me up from the
grass. We went into the house together, silently.

After supper, when the chimes struck half-past nine, John prepared to
leave as usual. He went to bid good-night to my father, who was
sitting meditatively over the fireless hearth-place, sometimes poking
the great bow-pot of fennel and asparagus, as in winter he did the
coals: an instance of obliviousness, which, in my sensible and acute
father, argued very deep cogitation on some subject or other.

"Good-night," said John, twice over, before his master heard him.

"Eh?--Oh, good-night, good-night, lad! Stay! Halifax, what hast thee
got to do to-morrow?"

"Not much, unless the Russian hides should come in; I cleared off the
week's accounts last night, as usual."

"Ay, to-morrow I shall look over all thy books and see how thee
stand'st, and what further work thou art fit for. Therefore, take a
day's holiday, if thee likes."

We thanked him warmly. "There, John," whispered I, "you may have your
wish, and run wild to-morrow."

He said, "the wish had gone out of him." So we planned a sweet