The words the bishop had repeated so often sung
themselves over and over in his ears.
"Ye are not your own. Ye are bought with a price."
"Don't mean me, anyhow," he thought, "'cause I b'long ter myself, sure
'nough. Nobody ever bought me 't ever I heard of. Wonder who that Jesus
is, he talked about so much. I wish--I wish he'd talk ter me--that
bishop."
All the strange happiness that had filled his heart during the service
in the church, was gone now. He did not feel happy at all. On the
contrary, he felt wretched and utterly miserable. He had begun to have
a distinct pride and satisfaction in himself lately, since he had
stopped lying and stealing, and had set up in business for himself,
and especially since Mrs. Hunt had begun to look upon him with more
favour, as he knew she had--but somehow now all this seemed worthless.
Although he had not understood the bishop's sermon, it seemed to have
unsettled Tode's mind, and awakened a vague miserable dissatisfaction
with himself. He was not used to such feelings. He didn't like them,
and he grew cross and ugly when he found himself unable to shake them
off.
He had wandered to the quiet corner of the wharf, where he and Nan and
Little Brother had spent the first hours of their acquaintance, and he
stood leaning against that same post, looking gloomily down into the
water, when a lean, rough dog crept slowly toward him, wagging his
stumpy tail and looking into the boy's face with eyes that pleaded for
a friendly word.
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