“Donnow, I’m sure! If he ’appened to wash his face, I could tell better!” Clare thought he had washed it pretty well that morning because of his cut, though he had, to be sure, done it without soap, and had been at rather dirty work since! “He says he’s been too hungry to wash his face,” answered the baker. “Didn’t ’ave his ’ot water in time, I suppose!--Will you answer for him, Mr. Ball?” “I can’t, Mr. Maidstone--not one way or another. I simply was taken with him. I know nothing about him.” Here one of the shopmen came up to his master, and said, “I heard Mr. Ball’s own man yesterday accuse this very boy of taking a loaf from his cart.” “Yesterday!” thought Clare; “it seems a week ago!” “Oh! this is the boy, is it?” said the baker. “You see I didn’t know him! All the same, I don’t believe he took the loaf.” “Indeed I didn’t, sir! Another boy took it who didn’t know better, and I took it from him, and was putting it back on the cart when the man turned round and saw me, and wouldn’t listen to a word I said. But a working-man believed me, and bought the loaf, and gave it between us.” “A likely story!” said the draper. “I’ve heard that much,” said the baker, “and I believe it. At least I have no reason to believe my man against him, Mr. Maidstone. That same night I discovered he had been cheating me to a merry tune. I discharged him this morning.” “Well, he certainly don’t look a respectable boy,” said the draper, who naturally, being all surface himself, could read no deeper than clothes; “but I’m greatly in want of one to carry out parcels, and I don’t mind if I try him. If he do steal anything, he’ll be caught within the hour!” “Oh, thank you, sir!” said Clare. “You shall have sixpence a day,” Mr. Maidstone continued, “--not a penny more till I’m sure you’re an honest boy.” “Thank you, sir,” iterated Clare. “Please may I run home first? I won’t be long. I ain’t got any other clothes, but----” “Hold your long tongue. Don’t let me hear it wagging in my establishment. Go and wash your face and hands.” Clare turned to the baker. “Please, sir,” he said softly, “may I go back with you and get the piece of bread?” “What! begging already!” cried Mr. Maidstone. “No, no, sir,” interposed the baker. “I promised him a piece of bread. He did not ask for it.” The good man was pleased at his success, and began to regard Clare with the favour that springs in the heart of him who has done a good turn to another through a third. Had he helped him out of his own pocket, he might not have been so much pleased. But there had been no loss, and there was no risk! He had beside shown his influence with a superior! “I am so much obliged to you, sir!” said Clare as they went away together. “I cannot tell you how much!”