I saw, by the hardening of his features, and the restless way in which he poked his stick into the little water-pools, that he was longing to be in his tan-yard close by.
He pulled out his great silver watch--the dread of our house, for it was a watch which seemed to imbibe something of its master's character; remorseless as justice or fate, it never erred a moment.
"Twenty-three minutes lost by this shower.

Phineas, my son, how am I to get thee safe home?
unless thee wilt go with me to the tan-yard--" I shook my head.

It was very hard for Abel Fletcher to have for his only child such a sickly creature as I, now, at sixteen, as helpless and useless to him as a baby.
"Well, well, I must find some one to go home with thee." For though my father had got me a sort of carriage in which, with a little external aid, I could propel myself, so as to be his companion occasionally in his walks between our house, the tanyard, and the Friends' meeting-house--still he never trusted me anywhere alone.

"Here, Sally--Sally Watkins! do any o' thy lads want to earn an honest penny ?" Sally was out of earshot; but I noticed that as the lad near us heard my father's words, the colour rushed over his face, and he started forward involuntarily.

I had not before perceived how wasted and hungry-looking he was.
"Father!" I whispered.