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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"The Cricket on the Hearth"

And well he might, to find
himself in such good company.
'Look, John!' said Caleb, exultingly, 'look here! My own boy from
the Golden South Americas! My own son! Him that you fitted out,
and sent away yourself! Him that you were always such a friend
to!'
The Carrier advanced to seize him by the hand; but, recoiling, as
some feature in his face awakened a remembrance of the Deaf Man in
the Cart, said:
'Edward! Was it you?'
'Now tell him all!' cried Dot. 'Tell him all, Edward; and don't
spare me, for nothing shall make me spare myself in his eyes, ever
again.'
'I was the man,' said Edward.
'And could you steal, disguised, into the house of your old
friend?' rejoined the Carrier. 'There was a frank boy once--how
many years is it, Caleb, since we heard that he was dead, and had
it proved, we thought?--who never would have done that.'
'There was a generous friend of mine, once; more a father to me
than a friend;' said Edward, 'who never would have judged me, or
any other man, unheard. You were he.


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