rite, John?" said I, after a minute or so of silence.

"I'll tell you presently. Can I get you a pen?"

He leaned on my shoulder with his left hand, but his right never once
let go of the precious book.

"Write--'Muriel Halifax, died January 1, 1791.'"

"Nothing more?"

"Nothing more."

He looked at the writing for a minute or two, dried it carefully by the
fire, replaced the book in its two cases, and put it into his pocket.
He said no other word but "Thank you," and I asked him no questions.

This was all I ever heard of the boy's parentage: nor do I believe he
knew more himself. He was indebted to no forefathers for a family
history: the chronicle commenced with himself, and was altogether his
own making. No romantic antecedents ever turned up: his lineage
remained uninvestigated, and his pedigree began and ended with his own
honest name--John Halifax.

Jael kept coming in and out of the parlour on divers excuses, eyeing
very suspiciously John Halifax and me; especially when she heard me
laughing--a rare and notable fact--for mirth was not the fashion in our
house, nor the tendency of my own nature. Now this young lad, hardly
as the world had knocked him about even already, had an overflowing
spirit of quiet drollery and healthy humour, which was to me an
inexpressible relief. It gave me something I did not
possess--something entirely new. I could not look at the dancing brown
eyes, at the quaint dimples of lurking fun that played hide-and-seek
under the firm-set mouth, without feeling my heart cheered and
delighted, like one brought out of a murky chamber into the open day.

But all this was highly objectionable to Jael.

"Phineas!"--and she planted herself before me at the end of the
table--"it's a fine, sunshiny day: thee ought to be out."

"I have been out, thank you, Jael." And John and I went on talking.

"Phineas!"--a second and more determined attack--"too much laughing
bean't good for thee; and it's time this lad were going about his own
business."

"Hush!--nonsense, Jael."

"No--she's right," said John Halifax, rising, while that look of
premature gravity, learned doubtless out of hard experience, chased all
the boyish fun from his face. "I've had a merry day--thank you kindly
for it! and now I'll be gone."

Gone! It was not to be thought of--at least, not till my father came
home. For now, more determinedly than ever, the plan which I had just
ventured to hint at to my fath