He brought me here, and John--at least he called him John--brought me in.

And I have been living, for two years, with Mrs.Walsham down in the town, and I used to see you in church, but I did not know that you were my grandpapa." The squire, who was holding her close to him while she spoke, got up and rang the bell; and John opened the door, with a quickness that showed that he had been waiting close to it, anxiously waiting a summons.
"John Petersham," the squire said, "give me your hand.

This is the happiest day of my life." The two men wrung each other's hands.

They had been friends ever since John Petersham, who was twelve years the senior of the two, first came to the house, a young fellow of eighteen, to assist his father, who had held the same post before him.
"God be thanked, squire!" he said huskily.
"God be thanked, indeed, John!" the squire rejoined, reverently.

"So this was the reason, old friend, why your hand shook as you poured out my wine.