"I can beat him at his own game. Cunning as he is, I'm cunninger; clever as he is, I'm cleverer; I could see without any eyes at all. Wasn't it as clear to me as daylight, if I'd been content to be his slave, taking his miserable few shillings a week, and trying to live on it, that I should be no better off at seventy years than I was at seventeen? Oh, no; not at all! I was a fool, I was, and didn't know how many beans made five! I was born yesterday, I was! There now; I've said enough. You'll live to see something that'll make you open your eyes. Oh! hanged if I wasn't forgetting. What did the governor do with that beggar, Tom Barley?" "Discharged him. He's gone for good." "He's gone for bad, you mean. He'll come to a nice end, and I'll help him to it if I can. So the old hunks discharged Tom Barley, did he? Well, I settled his hash for him, at all events." "It shows what influence you have over the master," observed Mrs. Pamflett. "I'll have more before I've done with him. Hallo! Just hear how they're laughing upstairs. I say, mother, couldn't you call Phoebe down here? I don't care about giving her the flowers with all that lot looking on and sniggering. Just you go and whisper to her that a gentleman wants very particularly to see her. Wait a minute; is my scarf right?" "Yes, Jeremiah," said Mrs. Pamflett, and was about to leave him, when he cried again, nervously: "Wait a minute, can't you? What a hurry you're in. What would you say to her, mother, when you give 'em to her?" "Wish her many happy returns of the day, Jeremiah; and you might ask if she will give you a cup of tea. That will give you an excuse for following her; she can't very well leave the people upstairs long to themselves." "All right; I'll do it." And Jeremiah struck an attitude, and waited for Phoebe, who had received a message, not that "a gentleman" wanted particularly to see her, but that a friend was below who was anxious to wish her many happy returns. When Phoebe heard this, she thought for a moment that it might be faithful Tom Barley, whom Mrs. Pamflett, in her good-nature, had allowed to enter, and she was startled when she saw Jeremiah Pamflett. "It's me, miss," said that worthy. "You're not sorry, I hope?" "No," she said, awkwardly; "not at all." "Seeing it was your birthday," said Jeremiah, "I thought I'd give you an agreeable surprise. Just look at this." He took the blue paper off the bouquet, and held it up for her admiration. "It is very pretty," said Phoebe. "I should rather say it was. It cost enough, anyhow: eight and six I gave for it." He paused for a reply, and Phoebe said, "Yes?" not knowing what else to say.