But fresh as we were, and tired as Philip was, he was always
ready for a romp in our back yard, or a game of hide-and-seek in the
Faringfields' gardens, or a chase all the way over to the Bowling
Green, or all the way up to the Common where the town ended and the
Bowery lane began.
But it soon came out that Phil's books were not neglected, either. The
speed with which his candles burnt down, and required renewal, told of
nocturnal studies in his garret. As these did not perceptibly
interfere with his activity the next day, they were viewed by Mr.
Faringfield rather with commendation than otherwise, and so were
allowed to continue. My mother thought it a sin that no one interfered
to prevent the boy's injuring his health; but when she said this to
Phil himself, he only smiled and answered that if his reading did cost
him anything of health, 'twas only fair a man should pay something for
his pleasures.
My mother's interest in the matter arose from a real liking. She saw
much of Philip, for he and the three younger Faringfields were as
often about our house as about their own. Ours was not nearly as fine;
'twas a white-painted wooden house, like those in New England, but
roomy enough for its three only occupants, my mother and me and the
maid. We were not rich, but neither were we of the poorest. My father,
the predecessor of Mr. Aitken in the customs office, had left
sufficient money in the English funds at his death, to keep us in the
decent circumstances we enjoyed, and there was yet a special fund
reserved for my education.
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