covered me with my cloak. Lying thus, with my hat over my eyes, just
distinguishing the shiny glimmer of the Avon running below, and beyond
that the green, level Ham, dotted with cows, my position was anything
but unpleasant. In fact, positively agreeable--ay, even though the
tan-yard was close behind; but here it would offend none of my senses.

"Are you comfortable, Phineas?"

"Very, if you would come and sit down too."

"That I will."

And we then began to talk. I asked him if he often patronised the
bark-heap, he seemed so very much at home there.

"So I am," he answered, smiling; "it is my castle--my house."

"And not unpleasant to live at, either."

"Except when it rains. Does it always rain at Norton Bury?"

"For shame, John!" and I pointed to the bluest of autumn skies, though
in the distance an afternoon mist was slowly creeping on.

"All very fine now, but there's a fog coming over Severn; and it is
sure to rain at nightfall. I shall not get my nice little bit of
October evening."

"You must spend it within doors then." John shook his head. "You
ought; it must be dreadfully cold on this bark-heap after sunset."

"Rather, sometimes. Are you cold now? Shall I fetch--but I haven't
anything fit to wrap you in, except this rug."

He muffled it closer round me; infinitely light and tender was his
rough-looking boy's hand.

"I never saw anybody so thin as you; thinner much since I saw you. Have
you been very, very ill, Phineas? What ailed you?"

His anxiety was so earnest, that I explained to him what I may as well
explain here, and dismiss, once for all; the useless topic, that from
my birth I had been puny and diseased; that my life had been a
succession of sicknesses, and that I could hope for little else until
the end.

"But don't think I mind it; John;" for I was grieved to see his shocked
and troubled look. "I am very content; I have a quiet home, a good
father, and now I think and believe I have found the one thing I
wanted--a good friend."

He smiled, but only because I did. I saw he did not understand me. In
him, as in most strong and self-contained temperaments, was a certain
slowness to receive impressions, which, however, being once received,
are indelible. Though I, being in so many things his opposite, had
none of this peculiarity, but felt at once quickly and keenly, yet I
rather liked the contrary in him, as I think we almost always do like
in another those peculiariti