'Well, of course, _they're_ worth money--always fetch their price. But the later editions are no good at all--nobody but a gentleman-collector, very green, you know, sir'--the twinkle in the boy's eye showed how much his subject was setting him at his ease--'would be bothered with them. Well, if he didn't get hold of an edition of 1540 or so--worth about eight shillings, and dear at that--and send it up to one of the London men as a good thing. He makes me pack it and send it and _register_ it--you might have thought it was the Mazarin Bible, bar size. And then, of course, next day, down comes the book again flying, double quick. I kept out of his way, post-time! But I'd have given something to see the letter he got.' And David, rising, put his hands in his pockets, and stood before the fire chuckling with irrepressible amusement. 'Well, then you know there's the first editions of Rousseau--not a bit rare, as rare goes--lucky if you get thirty shillings for the "Contrat Social," or the "Nouvelle Heloise," even good copies--' Again the host's eyebrows lifted. The French names ran remarkably; there was not the least boggling over them. But he said nothing, and David rattled on, describing, with a gusto which never failed, one of Purcell's book-selling enormities after another. It was evident that he despised his master with a passionate contempt. It was evident also that Purcell had shown a mean and unreasoning jealousy of his assistant. The English tradesman inherits a domineering tradition towards his subordinates, and in Purcell's case, as we know, the instincts of an egotistical piety had reinforced those of the employer. Yet Mr. Ancrum felt some sympathy with Purcell. 'Well, Davy,' he said at last, 'so you were too 'cute for your man, that's plain. But I don't suppose he put it on that ground when he gave you the sack?' And he looked up, with a little dry smile. 'No!' cried David, abruptly. 'No! not he. If you go and ask _him_ he'll tell you he sent me off because I would go to the Secularist meetings at the Hall of Science, and air myself as an atheist; that's his way of putting it. And it was doing him harm with his religious customers! As if I was going to let him dictate where I went on Sundays!' 'Of course not,' said Ancrum, with a twist of his oddly shaped mouth. 'Even the very youngest of us might sometimes be the better for advice; but, hang it, let's be free--free to "make fools of ourselves," as a wise man hath it. Well, Davy, no offence,' for his guest had flushed suddenly. 'So you go to the Hall of Science? Did you hear Holyoake and Bradlaugh there the other night? You like that kind of thing?' 'I like to hear it,' said the lad, stoutly, meeting his old teacher's look, half nervously, half defiantly. 'It's a great deal more lively than what you hear at most churches, sir. And why shouldn't one hear everything?'