“Yo’ did nowt but whatn wur yo’r duty, moi lad, as aw trust thah allays wilt; and thah’s gotten a mester and missis i’ ten theawsand, to mak’ so mich on a cut in a ’prentice’s arm—ay, tho it _wur_ got i’ savin’ one o’ theer own kin! Luk yo’, Jabez: o’ th’ mesters aw ever saw afore thowt as ’prentices, body an’ soul, wur theer own; an’ yo’ve lit on yo’r feet, aw con tell yo’. an’ yo’ conno’ do too mich for sich folk. Aw see they’re makkin’ a man on yo’, an’ dunnot yo’ spoil o’ by thinkin’ yo’ han earnt it, an’ han a reet to it. We’re unprofitable sarvants, th’ best on us, an’ dunnot yo’ harbour anny malice agen th’ chap as chopped at yo’. Them Yowmanry Calvary wur as drunk as fiddlers, an’ as blind as bats. Thah tuk thi chance wi’ the ruck, an’ came off better than some folk. So thenk God it’s no waur, an’ bear no malice; an’ thenk God as sent yo’ theer i’ the nick o’ time.” In little more than a fortnight Jabez was downstairs again, although his arm, not being thoroughly healed, yet needed support, and he was not hurried into the warehouse. Neither was he again invited to join the family, Mrs. Ashton having objected to Mr. Ashton’s proposition. “It would lift the young man out of his sphere, William, and do him more harm than good. Only very strong heads can stand sudden elevation; and it is well to make no more haste than good speed.” But Mr. Ashton’s “Just so” was less definite than ordinary, and he took a second pinch of snuff unawares, with a prolonged emphasis, which supplied the place of words. To the observant, Mr. Ashton’s snuff-box contained as much eloquence as did Lord Burleigh’s celebrated wig. He had taken a liking to the lad from the first, paid very little deference to Mrs. Grundy, and gave Jabez credit for a stronger head than did his more cautious and philosophic lady. Yet Jabez, to his surprise, found that his little room down stairs had undergone a transformation. It was no longer a bare office, fitted only with a desk and stool. Desk and stool were there still, but a carpet, hanging shelves, a few useful books, and other furniture had been introduced, the result being a compact parlour. Mrs. Ashton had her own way of showing goodwill. His previous application to work in that room, when his fellow-apprentices in over hours were cracking jokes on the kitchen settle, lounging about the yard, tormenting or being tormented by Kezia, had served somewhat to isolate and lift him above them, albeit he took his meals in the kitchen with the rest. This separation was now confirmed by orders Kezia received to “serve Clegg’s dinner in his own room,” orders which Kezia resented with asperity, and at least three days’ ill-humour, and which James declined to execute. He was “not goin’ to disgrace his cloth by waitin’ on ’prentice lads!” Ready-handed Cicily came to the rescue, and took the office on herself, amid the banter of the kitchen, which the quick-witted maid returned with right good will and right good temper.