"No more had the best paper-hanger in London when he first tried. But if you do not like that work, what do you think of doing some writing for me? Our tables of rules are dirty. If you will make good copies of our rules for all the rooms in which they hang, in the course of the holidays, I will pay you half-a-crown. But the copies must be quite correct, and the writing good. I can offer you one other choice. Our school library wants looking to. If you will put fresh paper covers to all the books that want covering, write the titles on the backs, compare the whole with the catalogue, and arrange them properly on the shelves, I will pay you half-a-crown." Holt's pleasure in the prospect of being out of debt was swallowed up in the anxiety of undertaking anything so new to him as work out of school. Hugh hurried him on to a decision. "Do choose the papering," urged Hugh. "I can help you in that, I do believe. I can walk that little way, to widow Murray's; and I can paste the paper. Widow Murray will show you how to do it; and it is very easy, if you once learn to join the pattern. I found that, when I helped to paper the nursery closet at home." "It is an easy pattern to join," said Mr Tooke. "There now! And that is the chief thing. If you do the library books, I cannot help you, you know. And remember, you will have two miles to walk each way; four miles a-day in addition to the work." "He can sleep at Crofton, if he likes," said Mr Tooke. "That would be a queer way of staying at uncle Shaw's," observed Hugh. "Then there is copying the rules," said Holt. "I might do that here; and you might help me, if you liked." "Dull work!" exclaimed Hugh. "Think of copying the same rules three or four times over! And then, if you make mistakes, if you do not write clearly, where is your half-crown? I don't mean that I would not help you, but it would be the dullest work of all." Mr Tooke sat patiently waiting till Holt had made up his mind. He perceived something that never entered Hugh's mind: that Holt's pride was hurt at the notion of doing workman's work. He wrote on a slip of paper these few words, and pushed them across the table to Holt, with a smile:-- "No debtor's hands are clean, however white they be: Who digs and pays his way--the true gentleman is he." Holt coloured as he read, and immediately said that he chose the papering job. Mr Tooke rose, tossed the slip of paper into the fire, buttoned up his coat, and said that he should let widow Murray know that a workman would wait upon her the next morning, and that she must have her paste and brushes and scissors ready. "And a pair of steps," said Hugh, with a sigh. "Steps, of course," replied Mr Tooke. "You will think it a pretty paper, I am sure." "But, sir, she must quite understand that she is not at all obliged to us,--that is, to me," said Holt. "Certainly. You will tell her so yourself, of course."