Dost thee want him to wheel thee about the yard?
Here, I say, lad--bless me! I've forgot thy name." John Halifax started up at the sharp tone of command; but when he saw me he smiled.

My father walked on to some pits where he told me he was trying an important experiment, how a hide might be tanned completely in five months instead of eight.

I stayed behind.
"John, I want you." John shook himself free of the bark-heap, and came rather hesitatingly at first.
"Anything I can do for you, sir ?" "Don't call me 'sir'; if I say 'John,' why don't you say 'Phineas' ?" And I held out my hand--his was all grimed with bark-dust.
"Are you not ashamed to shake hands with me ?" "Nonsense, John." So we settled that point entirely.

And though he never failed to maintain externally a certain gentle respectfulness of demeanour towards me, yet it was more the natural deference of the younger to the elder, of the strong to the weak, than the duty paid by a serving-lad to his master's son.

And this was how I best liked it to be.
He guided me carefully among the tan-pits--those deep fosses of abomination, with a slender network of pathways thrown between--until we reached the lower end of the yard.