Archie B. smiled triumphantly and pulled out his handful of gold. The old man sat down on a log, dazed.
"Archie B., sho'ly, sho'ly, not all that? An' licked the dorg, an' that gang, an' cleaned 'em up?"
Archie B. told him the story with all the quaint histrionic talent of his exuberant nature.
The Bishop sat and laughed till the tears came.
"An' Bonaparte went down the road with the monkey holt his tail--the champion dorg--an' you won all that?"
"All fur charity, Bishop, except, you know, part fur keeps as a kinder nes' egg."
"Of co-u-r-se--Archie B., of--course, no harm in the worl'--if--if--my son--_if you carry out your original ideas_, or promise, ruther; it won't work if you go back on yo' promise to God. 'God moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform,'" added the Bishop solemnly.
Archie B. slipped fifty of his dollars into the old man's hands.
"Do you know, Archie B., I prayed for this las' night? Now you tell me God don't answer prayers?"
He was silent, touched. Seldom before had a prayer of his been answered so directly.
"Fur charity, Archie B., fur charity. I'll take it, an' little you know what this may mean."
Archie B. was silent. So far so good, but it was plain from his still thoughtful looks that he had only half won out yet. He had heard the old man speak, and there had been a huskiness about his voice.
"Now there is paw, Bishop--you know he ain't jes like you--he don't see so far. He might not understan' it. Would you mind jes' droppin' him a line, you know? I'll take it to him--in case he looks at the thing differently, you know, fur whut you write will go a long way with him."
The old man smiled: "Of course, Archie B.--he must understan' it. Of course, it 'ud never do to have him spile as good a thing as that--an' fur charity, all fur the Lord--"
"An' why I didn't go to school, helpin' you all in the woods," put in Archie B.
"Of course, Archie B., why of course, my son; I'll fix it right."
And he scribbled a few lines on the fly leaf of his note book for Archie B. to take home:
Archie B. struck out across the fields jingling his remaining gold and whistling. At home it was as he expected. Patsy met him at the gate. One look into her expectant face showed him that she was delighted at the prospect of his punishment. It was her hope deferred, now long unfulfilled. He had always gotten out before, but now--