"I can understand that you should have," said Mr. Ashley. "Yes, you can pay it to me, Mrs. Halliburton. Always remembering you know, that I am in no hurry for it," he added with a smile. "Thank you. You are very kind. But I must pay as I go on." He wrote the receipt, and handed it to her. "I hope you are satisfied with William?" she said, as she folded it up. "Quite so. I believe he gives satisfaction to Mr. Lynn. I have little to do with him myself. Mr. Lynn tells me that he finds him a remarkably truthful, open-natured boy." "You will always find him that," said Jane. "He is getting more reconciled to the manufactory than he was at first." "Did he not like it at first?" "No, he did not. He was disappointed altogether. He had hoped to find some employment more suited to the way in which he had been brought up. He cannot divest himself of the idea that he is looked upon as on a level with the poor errand-boys of your establishment, and therefore has lost caste. He had wished also to be in some office--a lawyer's, for instance--where the hours for leaving are early, so that he might have had the evening for his studies. But he is growing more reconciled to the inevitable." "I suppose he wished to continue his studies?" "He did so naturally. The foundation of an advanced education has been laid, and he expected it was to go on to completion. His brothers are now in the college school, occupied all day long with their studies, and of course William feels the difference. He gets to his books for an hour when he returns home in an evening; but he is weary, and does not do much good." "He appears to be a more persevering, thoughtful boy than are some," remarked Mr. Ashley. "Very thoughtful--very persevering. It has been the labour of my life, Mr. Ashley, to foster good seed in my children; to reason with them, to make them my companions. They have been endowed, I am thankful to say, with admirable qualities of head and heart, and I have striven unweariedly to nourish the good in them. It is not often that boys are brought into contact with sorrow so early as they. Their father's death and my adverse circumstances have been real trials." "They must have been," rejoined Mr. Ashley. "While others of their age think only of play," she continued, "my boys have been obliged to learn the sad experiences of life; and it has given them a thought, a care, beyond their years. There is no necessity to _make_ Frank and Edgar apply to their lessons unremittingly; they do it of their own accord, with their whole abilities, knowing that education is the only advantage they can possess--the one chance of their getting on in the world. Had William been a boy of a different disposition, less tractable, less reflective, less conscientious, I might have found some difficulty in inducing him to work as he is doing." "Does he complain?" inquired Mr. Ashley.