Since the discovery of his faculty for design, much of his time had been occupied at a desk with pencils and colours, making patterns for the wood-turner, the mould-coverer, the tassel-maker, the fringe-weaver; for bell-ropes, brace-webs, carpet and furniture bindings; and although some of these things admitted but of little variety, there was plenty found for him to do. This was well-pleasing enough to Jabez, but the College officials, who never lose sight of the boys they apprentice, demurred. His indentures provided that he should learn small-ware-manufacturing in all its branches; and pattern-designing, if part and parcel, was only one branch. Mr. Ashton was too just not to assent, and Jabez went to his active employment again. But he had a love for his new art, and an interest in his master’s interest, which prompted him to say— “If it would be all the same to you, sir, I could draw patterns before breakfast, or in the dinner-hour, or in an evening, if Kezia had someone else to wait on her.” The inevitable snuff-box came out, Mr. Ashton’s head went first on one side, then on the other, as he took a long pinch before he answered. “No, my lad, it won’t be all the same to me, nor to you either,” he said, at length, and Jabez began to look rueful. “You’re a lad of uncommon parts, and I’m willing enough to find them employment. But if you work extra hours, apprentice or no apprentice, you must have extra pay. So you see, Jabez, it won’t be the same to either of us. You shall have the little room at the end of the lobby to yourself, and there you may earn all you can for your own friends and for me.” “Oh, thank you, master!” interjected Jabez, his thoughts flying at once to the old yard in Long Millgate. “And let Kezia wait upon herself if there are no other idle folk about,” concluded Mr. Ashton, and the business was settled. This was about the time Jabez first began to suspect Kit Townley of unfair dealing; and being once more in frequent contact with him in the warehouse, he could not shut his eyes or his ears. Kit was then assistant putter-out in the fringe and tassel department, counted out the moulds, weighed out silk and worsted, and called out the quantities each hand took away, for a young booking-clerk to enter. Jabez was still in the brace and umbrella room, but there was a wide door of communication between the two, and he had frequently to pass through the former with finished goods for the ware and show-rooms on the lower floors, and had to go cautiously past the large scale, lest he should tilt the beam with his ungainly burdens. Now and then it occurred to him that the bulk of silk or worsted in the scale was large in proportion to the weight, as called out by Kit Townley, and once he was moved to say— “Is that balance true? or have you made a mistake, Townley?” “Mind your own business, Clegg, and don’t hinder mine. Naught ails the scales, and I know better than make mistakes.”