Now it belonged to the widow of Eben's son,
John. Mr. Jeminy remembered John Wicket as a boy in school. He was a
rogue; his head was already so full of mischief, that it was impossible
to teach him anything. So he was not much wiser when he left school,
than when he entered it. However, Mr. Jeminy was satisfied with his
instruction. "With more knowledge," the old schoolmaster thought to
himself, "he might do a great deal of harm in the world. So perhaps it
is just as well for him to be ignorant." And he consoled himself with
this reflection.
A year later John Wicket ran away from home, taking with him the money
which his father kept in a stone jug in the kitchen. Old Mr. Wicket
refused to send after him. "I didn't need the money," he said, "and I
don't need him. Well, they're both gone."
But after a while, since his son was no longer there to plague him, he
began to feel proud of him. "An out and out scamp," he said, with
relish. "Never seen the like."
John Wicket was gone for three years, no one knew where.
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