"_Miles_ might have done an Hour's Work by this Time," observed _Tomkins_, "but I've seen nought of him." "Because Mistress _Fraunces_ hath sent him to _Trolop's_ Milk-farm for Curds and Cream," quod my Master; "don't be hard upon him." "I wish he may not do what he did, the last Time I sent him of an Errand," quod _Tomkins_ dryly—"tarry by the Way to see a Horse-dealer hanged." "That would have spoiled my Relish for Curds and Cream," quod Master _Hewet_, "I think he must have returned ere this—_Ned_ shall bring up your Breakfast, _Tomkins_." As we went down, "Do all thou canst, _Ned_," quod my Master, "in the Way of small Kindnesses, for that poor Journeyman Freeman.—A few Years since, a Horse trod upon his Foot and lamed him for Life. My Wife, who was his Foster-sister, and felt a Kindness for him, had him here to nurse; and, by the Time he had recovered as much as he was ever likely to do, he had become so fond of us and of his Attick, that, albeit our Ordinances are somewhat stringent against Master Clothworkers keeping Weavers at Journeywork in their own Houses, the Wardens have overlooked it in his Case, and let him abide on Sufferance. And though I don't expect to make my Fortune by any Weaving I get out of you or _Miles_, and have indeed Plenty of very different Work for you, yet 'tis well you should know somewhat of the Practice of your Craft, and I look to you to attend to it whenever you would otherwise be in Idleness." When we reached the Ground-floor, there was Mrs. _Fraunces_ buying Roses and Gilly-flowers at the Door, which she afterwards set in Midst of the Breakfast-table; for 'twas a notable Way of hers I always observed from the first, to contrive to give e'en the simplest Meal the Air of a little Banquet, whether by a Posy, a Dish of Fruit, or whatever it might chance, to grace her plain, plenteous Providings. The first Note I had of _Miles Hackathrift_ being at Hand, was when I returned from carrying up to _Tomkins_ his fried Fish and Bracket. He came behind me, took me by the Shoulders, and gave me a smart shaking. "Come, now," quod I, when he had done, "art thou going to be civil or troublesome?" "Troublesome," replied he decidedly. "Oh! well," quod I, "then we shall not come to a good Understanding, it seems, till I have given you a Beating; but for your Sake I'll put it off as long as I can." "Your Time is mine, sir," quod he, "don't be in a Hurry, nor yet put it off too long. The smallest Favour shall be cheerfully accepted." "Ah," quod I, "if that were a true Word of yours, how pleasantly we might get on together." "Pleasantly! quite the other Way, I think," quod he. "Why, quarrelling's the very Spice of Life!" "Keep Spice for rich Men's Tables, then," quod I, "I can eat my Breakfast very well without it." "Ah!" saith he, "you've been brought up by your Mother!" "And what if I have?" quod I quickly.