“Your words are bold, Hannah, and I know not what my father and the elders of the church would say, were they to hear them.  As to that I will not argue, but methinks that you are right in saying that the companionship of the young Davenant will do our boy no harm.

“But the lad must have his father’s consent.  Though I reckon that we could count pounds where they could count shillings, yet, in the opinion of the world, they assuredly stand above us.  Moreover, as it is only in human nature that they should regard us as those who have despoiled them, John must have no dealings with their son without their consent.  If that be given, I have nought to say against it.”

And so John told Walter, next time they met, and learned in reply that Walter had already obtained his father’s consent to going out rambles with him; so the boys became companions and friends, and each benefited by it.  To John, the bright, careless ease and gaiety of Walter’s talk and manner were, at first, strange indeed, after the restraint and gloom of his home; but in time he caught something of his companion’s tone, until, as has been said, his altered manner and bearing struck and annoyed his grandfather.

On the other hand, the earnestness and solidity of John’s character was of benefit to Walter; and his simple truthfulness, the straightforwardness of his principles, and his blunt frankness in saying exactly what he thought, influenced Walter to quite as large an extent as he had influenced John.

So the companionship between the lads had gone on for two years.  In fine weather they had met once or twice a week, and had taken long rambles together, or, throwing themselves down on the slopes facing the sea, had talked over subjects of mutual interest.  Walter’s education was far in advance of that of his companion, whose reading, indeed, had been confined to the Scriptures, and the works of divines and controversialists of his own church, and whose acquirements did not extend beyond the most elementary subjects.

To him, everything that Walter knew was novel and strange; and he eagerly devoured, after receiving permission from his mother, the books which Walter lent him, principally histories, travels, and the works of Milton and Shakespeare.  As to the latter, Hannah had at first some scruples; and it was only after setting herself, with great misgivings as to the lawfulness of the act, to peruse the book, that she suffered her son to read it.  The volume only contained some ten of Shakespeare’s plays; and Hannah, on handing the book to her son, said: 

“I do not pretend, John, to understand all that is written there, but I cannot see that there is evil in it.  There are assuredly many noble thoughts, and much worldly wisdom.  Did I think that your life would be passed here, I should say that it were better for you not to read a book which gives a picture of a life so different from what yours would be; but none can say what your lot may be.  And, although I have heard much about the wickedness of the stage, I can see no line in this book which could do harm to you.  I do not see it can do you much good, John, but neither do I see that it can do you any harm; therefore, if you have set your mind on it, read it, my boy.”