A bale of goods happening to be unpacked in his presence one day, Clare begged the head-shopman, who was also a partner, for a piece of what it was wrapped in; and he, having noted how well he worked, and being quite aware they could not get another such boy at such wages, gave him a large piece of the soiled canvas. Now Mrs. Porson had taught Clare to work,--as I think all boys ought to be taught, so as not to be helpless without mother or sister,--and with the help of a needle and some thread the friendly girl gave him, he soon made of the packing-sheet a pair of trousers for Tommy, of a primitive but not unserviceable cut, and a shirt for himself, of fashion more primitive still. He managed it this way: he cut a hole in the middle of a piece of the stuff, through which to put his head, and another hole on each side of that, through which to put his arms, and hemmed them all round. Then, having first hemmed the garment also, he indued it, and let the voluminous mass arrange itself as it might, under as much of his jacket and trousers as cohered. My reader may well wonder how, in what was called a respectable shop, he could be permitted to appear in such poverty; but Mr. Maidstone disliked the boy so much that he meant to send him away the moment he found another to do his work, and gave orders that he should never come up from the basement except when wanted to carry a parcel. The fact was that his still, solemn, pure face was a haunting rebuke to his master, although he did not in the least recognize the nature, or this as the cause, of his dislike. Chapter XXXV. CLARE DISREGARDS THE INTERESTS OF HIS EMPLOYERS. Things went on for nearly a month, every one thriving but Clare. Yet was Clare as peaceful as any, and much happier than Tommy, to whose satisfaction adventure was needful. One day, a lady, attracted by a muff in the shop-window labelled with a very low price, entered, and requested to see it. “We can offer you a choice from several of the sort, madam,” said the shopman. “It is one of a lot we bought cheap, but quite uninjured, after a fire.” “I want to see the one in the window,” the lady answered. “I hope you will excuse me, madam,” returned the shopman. “The muff is in a position hard to reach. Besides, we must ask leave to take anything down after the window is dressed for the day, and the master is out. But I will bring you the same fur precisely.” So saying, he went, and returned presently with a load of muffs and other furs, which he threw on the counter. But the lady had heard that “there’s tricks i’ the world,” and persisted in demanding a sight of the muff in the window. Being a “tall personage” and cool, she carried her point. The muff was hooked down and brought her--not graciously. She glanced at it, turned it over, looked inside, and said, “I will take it. Please bring a bandbox for it.”