That is--but I know I can't put the subject clear, for I have not got it clear in my own head yet--I'm only a lad.
However, it all comes to this--that whether I like it or not, I'll stick to the tanning as long as I can." "That's right; I'm so glad.

Nevertheless"-- and I watched him as he stood, his foot planted firmly, no easy feat on the shifting bark-heap, his head erect, and his mouth close, but smiling--"Nevertheless, John, it's my opinion that you might be anything you liked." He laughed.

"Questionable that--at least at present.

Whatever I may be, I am just now the lad that drives your father's cart, and works in your father's tan-yard--John Halifax, and very much at your service, Mr.Phineas Fletcher." Half in fun, half in earnest, he uncovered his fair locks, with a bow so contradictory to the rest of his appearance, that I involuntarily recalled the Greek Testament and "Guy Halifax, Gentleman." However, that could be no matter to me, or to him either, now.

The lad, like many another, owed nothing to his father but his mere existence--Heaven knows whether that gift is oftenest a curse or a boon.
The afternoon had waned during our talk; but I was very loth to part with my friend.