For he knew what this was, of course. It was another of his father’s plans for improving him. He thinks I need friends like Sam White, so I’ll understand the world and grow up like he did, he thought.

And then, if only his father hadn’t kept reminding him about it, and giving him directions. You couldn’t tell him, of course, but it seemed to James, right now, that it was really his father’s fault more than his own that he hadn’t turned up.

Perhaps it was just fate. He’d been on his way when he’d met a friend, which had caused a necessary delay. And after that, he’d still almost gone; but he realized that the delay with his friend had been so long, that it was too late to go now, anyway.

So maybe the best thing to do was say that he couldn’t find the place and that he’d go back the next day. And he’d pretty much decided that was what he’d do, when he met his father just a minute sooner than he expected, in front of the house.

“Well, James, did it go well?” His father was smiling expectantly. “Charlie’s quite a character, eh? And what’s Sam like? A chip off the old block?”

“Well …” James looked at his father’s eager countenance. “No. He’s pretty quiet, I guess.”

“But he was friendly, I hope. And you were too?”

“Yes … Yes, I was.” He was getting in so deep now, where he hadn’t meant to. Should he break down and confess? His father would probably take a strap to him, but he didn’t mind that. It was the sense of disappointment the whole thing would create. He just wished he could get his father off his back.

“So you’ll meet again?” his father said hopefully.

“I reckon so. Don’t worry, Father, we’ll see each other if we want to.”

“Oh.”

“You should just leave it between us, Father.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Don’t worry, my boy. I won’t interfere.” And with that, his father let him escape into the house.