On seeing us
he exclaimed, "Hulloh!" and then stopped, I suspect in obedience to
Weston's eyes, which met his in a brief but expressive gaze. Then
Weston turned to me.
"Allow me," said he, "to introduce Mr. Thomas Johnson. He bears a very
high character in this school, and it will afford him the keenest
satisfaction to hear an authentic account of such a man as your
esteemed father, whose character should be held up for the imitation
of young gentlemen in every establishment for the education of youth."
I blushed with pride and somewhat with nervousness as Mr. Thomas
Johnson seated himself on the locker on the other side of me and
begged (with less elegance of expression than my first friend) that I
would "go ahead."
I did so. But a very few minutes exhausted the patience of my new
hearer. When he had kicked a loose splinter of wood satisfactorily off
the leg of one of the desks he began to look at the clock, which
quickened my pace from my remoter ancestors to what the colonel of the
regiment in which my father was an ensign had said of him. I completed
my narrative at last with the lawyer's remark, and added, "and
everybody says the same. And _that_ is why my father had '_The
Honourable_' before his name, just as--" &c.
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