Now, Jabez had been warned, with many portentous threats, that in the event of any one asking for the master he was to be as mute as the grave. So in answer to the peddler's question he merely shook his wise head and looked grave and astonishingly innocent. "No? And how lang hasta been here?" "Three years come Easter," said Jabez. "And how lang dusta say 'at missis has been here?" "Missis? I heard father say as Mistress Drayton has kep' the Hawk and Heron this five-and-twenty year." "Five-and-twenty! Then I reckon that master would be no'but a laal wee barn when she coomt first," said Gubblum. "Happen he were," said Jabez. Then, recovering the caution so unexpectedly disturbed, Jabez protested afresh that he had no master. "It's slow wark suppen buttermilk wi' a pitchfork," thought Gubblum, and he proceeded to employ a spoon. "Sista, my lad, wadsta like me to lend thee a shilling?" Jabez grinned, and closed his fat fist on the coin thrust into his palm. "I once knew a man as were the varra spitten picter of your master," said Gubblum. "In fact, his varra sel', upsett'n and doon thross'n. I thowt it were hissel', that's the fact. But when I tackled him he threept me down, and I was that vexed I could have bitten the side out of a butter-bowl." "But I ain't got no master," protested Jabez. "I were riding by on my laal pony that day, but now I'm going shankum naggum," continued Gubblum, unmindful of the pot-boy's mighty innocent look. "'A canny morning to you, Master Paul,' I shouted, and on I went." "Then you know his name?" said Jabez, opening wide his drowsy eyes. "'Master Paul's half his time frae home,' says the chap on t'road. 'Coorse he is,' I says: 'it's me for knowing that,' Ah, I mind it same as it were yesterday. I looked back, and there he was standing at the door, and he just snitit his nose wi' his finger and thoom. Ey, he did, for sure." Jabez found his conscience abnormally active at that moment. "But I ain't got none," he protested afresh. "None what?" "No master." "That's a lie, my lad, for I see he's been putten a swine ring on yer snout to keep ye frae rooting up the ground." After this Gubblum sat a good half-hour in silence. Mrs. Drayton came down-stairs and arranged that Gubblum should sleep that night in the house. His bedroom was to be a little room at the back, entered from the vicinity of the ladder that led to the attics. Gubblum got up, said he was tired, and asked to be shown to his room. Jabez lighted a candle, and they went off together. "Whereiver does that lead to?" said Gubblum, pointing to the ladder near his bedroom door. "I dunno," said Jabez, moodily. He had been ruminating on Gubblum's observation about the swine ring. "He's as sour as vargis," thought Gubblum. There was the creak of a footstep overhead. "Who sleeps in the pigeon loft?" Gubblum asked, tipping his finger upward. "I dunno," repeated Jabez. "His dander's up," thought Gubblum.