Maggie turned away from the table and threw herself into a chair with the big tears ready to roll down her cheeks - quite blinded to the presence of Bob, who was looking at her with the pursuant gaze of an intelligent dumb animal, with perceptions more perfect than his comprehension.

`Well, Bob,' said Tom, feeling that the subject of the books was unseasonable, `I suppose you just came to see me because we're in trouble? That was very good natured of you.'

`I'll tell you how it is, Master Tom,' said Bob, beginning to untwist his canvas bag. `You see, I'n been with a barge this two 'ear - that's how I'n been gettin' my livin' - if it wasn't when I was tentin' the furnace between whiles at Torry's mill. But a fortni't ago I'd a rare bit o' luck - I allays thought I was a lucky chap, for I niver set a trap but what I catched so'thing - but this wasn't a trap, it was a fire i' Torry's mill, an' I doused it, else it 'ud ha' set th' oil alight, an' the genelman gen me ten suvreigns - he gen me 'em himself last week. An' he said first, I was a sperrited chap - but I knowed that afore - but then he outs wi' the ten suvreigns, an' that war summat new. Here they are - all but one!' Here Bob emptied the canvas bag on the table. `An' when I'd got 'em, my head was all of a boil like a kettle o' broth, thinkin' what sort o' life I should take to - for there war a many trades I'd thought on, for as for the barge I'm clean tired out wi't, for it pulls the days out till they're as long as pig's chitterlings. An' I thought first I'd ha'ferrets an' dogs an' be a rotketcher an' then I thought as I should like a bigger way o' life, as I didn't know so well; for I'n seen to the bottom o' rotketching; an' I thought an'thought till at last I settled I'd be a packman, for they're knowin' fellers, the packmen are - an' I'd carry the lightest things I could i' my pack - an' there'd be a use for a feller's tongue, as is no use, neither wi' rots nor barges. An' I should go about the country far an' wide, an' come round the women wi' my tongue, an' get my dinner hot at the public - lors, it 'ud be a lovely life!'

Bob paused, and then said, with defiant decision, as if resolutely turning his back on that paradisaic picture--

`But I don't mind about it, not a chip! An' I'n changed one o' the suvreigns to buy my mother a goose for dinner, an' I'n bought a blue plush wescoat an' a sealskin cap - for if I meant to be a packman, I'd do it respectable. But I don't mind about it - not a chip! My yead isn't turnup, an' I shall p'r'aps have a chance o' dousing another fire before long - I'm a lucky chap. So I'll thank you to take the nine suvreigns, Mr Tom, and set yoursen up with 'em somehow, if it's true as the master's broke. They mayn't go fur enough - but they'll help.'

Tom was touched keenly enough to forget his pride and suspicion.

`You're a very kind fellow, Bob,' he said colouring, with that little, diffident tremor in his voice which gave a certain charm even to Tom's pride and severity, `and I sha'n't forget you again, though I didn't know you this evening. But I can't take the nine sovereigns: I should be taking your little fortune from you, and they wouldn't do me much good either.'

`Wouldn't they, Mr Tom?' said Bob regretfully. `Now don't say so 'cause you think I want 'em. I aren't a poor chap: my mother gets a good penn'orth wi' picking feathers an' things, an' if she eats nothin' but bread an' water it runs to fat: an' I'm such a lucky chap - an' I doubt you aren't quite so lucky Mr Tom - th' old master isn't, anyhow - an'so you might take a slice o' my luck, an' no harm done. Lors! I found a leg o' port i' the river one day - it had tumbled out o' one o' them round-sterned Dutchmen, I'll be bound. Come, think better on it, Mr Tom, for old 'quinetance sake - else I shall think you bear me a grudge.'

Bob pushed the sovereigns forward, but before Tom could speak, Maggie, clasping her hands and looking penitently at Bob, said,

`O, I'm sorry, Bob - I never thought you were so good. Why, I think you're the kindest person in the world!'

Bob had not been aware of the injurious opinion for which Maggie was performing an inward act of penitence, but he smiled with pleasure at this handsome eulogy, especially from a young lass who, as he informed his mother that evening, had `such uncommon eyes, they looked somehow as they made him feel nohow.'