“Ay, mum,” he said admiringly, “you know what’s what—you do. An’ it’s nothing but fair. _You_ see how the first bit of a job answers, an’ then you’ll come down handsome. Lors, it’s a fine thing to hev good kin. I got my bit of a nest-egg, as the master calls it, all by my own sharpness,—ten suvreigns it was,—wi’ dousing the fire at Torry’s mill, an’ it’s growed an’ growed by a bit an’ a bit, till I’n got a matter o’ thirty pound to lay out, besides makin’ my mother comfor’ble. I should get more, on’y I’m such a soft wi’ the women,—I can’t help lettin’ ’em hev such good bargains. There’s this bundle, now,” thumping it lustily, “any other chap ’ud make a pretty penny out on it. But me!—lors, I shall sell ’em for pretty near what I paid for ’em.” “Have you got a bit of good net, now?” said Mrs Glegg, in a patronizing tone, moving from the tea-table, and folding her napkin. “Eh, mum, not what you’d think it worth your while to look at. I’d scorn to show it you. It ’ud be an insult to you.” “But let me see,” said Mrs Glegg, still patronizing. “If they’re damaged goods, they’re like enough to be a bit the better quality.” “No, mum, I know my place,” said Bob, lifting up his pack and shouldering it. “I’m not going t’ expose the lowness o’ my trade to a lady like you. Packs is come down i’ the world; it ’ud cut you to th’ heart to see the difference. I’m at your sarvice, sir, when you’ve a mind to go and see Salt.” “All in good time,” said Mr Glegg, really unwilling to cut short the dialogue. “Are you wanted at the wharf, Tom?” “No, sir; I left Stowe in my place.” “Come, put down your pack, and let me see,” said Mrs Glegg, drawing a chair to the window and seating herself with much dignity. “Don’t you ask it, mum,” said Bob, entreatingly. “Make no more words,” said Mrs Glegg, severely, “but do as I tell you.”