life, as I didn't know so well; for I'n seen to the bottom o' rotketching;an' I thought an'thought till at last I settled I'd be a packman, for they're knowin' fellers, the packmen are - an' I'd carry the lightest things Icould i' my pack - an' there'd be a use for a feller's tongue, as is no use, neither wi' rots nor barges.An' I should go about the country far an' wide, an' come round the women wi' my tongue, an' get my dinner hot at the public - lors, it 'ud be a lovely life!'
Bob paused, and then said, with defiant decision, as if resolutely turning his back on that paradisaic picture--`But I don't mind about it, not a chip! An' I'n changed one o' the suvreigns to buy my mother a goose for dinner, an' I'n bought a blue plush wescoat an' a sealskin cap - for if I meant to be a packman, I'd do it respectable.
But I don't mind about it - not a chip! My yead isn't turnup, an' I shall p'r'aps have a chance o' dousing another fire before long - I'm a lucky chap.So I'll thank you to take the nine suvreigns, Mr Tom, and set yoursen up with 'em somehow, if it's true as the master's broke.They mayn't go fur enough - but they'll help.'
Tom was touched keenly enough to forget his pride and suspicion.
`You're a very kind fellow, Bob,' he said colouring, with that little, diffident tremor in his voice which gave a certain charm even to Tom's pride and severity, `and I sha'n't forget you again, though I didn't know you this evening.But I can't take the nine sovereigns: I should be taking your little fortune from you, and they wouldn't do me much good either.'
`Wouldn't they, Mr Tom?' said Bob regretfully.`Now don't say so 'cause you think I want 'em.I aren't a poor chap: my mother gets a good penn'orth wi' picking feathers an' things, an' if she eats nothin' but bread an'
water it runs to fat: an' I'm such a lucky chap - an' I doubt you aren't quite so lucky Mr Tom - th' old master isn't, anyhow - an'so you might take a slice o' my luck, an' no harm done.Lors! I found a leg o' port i' the river one day - it had tumbled out o' one o' them round-sterned Dutchmen, I'll be bound.Come, think better on it, Mr Tom, for old 'quinetance sake - else I shall think you bear me a grudge.'
Bob pushed the sovereigns forward, but before Tom could speak, Maggie, clasping her hands and looking penitently at Bob, said, `O, I'm sorry, Bob - I never thought you were so good.Why, I think you're the kindest person in the world!'
Bob had not been aware of the injurious opinion for which Maggie was performing an inward act of penitence, but he smiled with pleasure at this handsome eulogy, especially from a young lass who, as he informed his mother that evening, had `such uncommon eyes, they looked somehow as they made him feel nohow.'
`No, indeed, Bob, I can't take them,' said Tom, `but don't think I feel your kindness less because I say no.I don't want to take anything from anybody, but to work my own way.And those sovereigns wouldn't help me much - they wouldn't really - if I were to take them.Let me shake hands with you instead.'
Tom put out his pink palm, and Bob was not slow to place his hard, grimy hand within it.
`Let me put the sovereigns in the bag again,' said Maggie, `and you'll come and see us when you've bought your pack, Bob.'
`It's like as if I'd come out o' make-believe, o' purpose to show 'em you,' said Bob, with an air of discontent as Maggie gave him the bag again `a-taking 'em back i' this way.I am a bit of a Do, you know, but it isn't that sort o' Do: it's on'y when a feller's a big rogue or a big flat, I like to let him in a bit, that's all.'
`Now, don't you be up to any tricks Bob,' said Tom, `else you'll get transported some day.'
`No, no; not me Master Tom,' said Bob, with an air of cheerful confidence.
`There's no law again' flea-bites.If I wasn't to take a fool in now and then, he'd niver get any wiser.But, lors! hev a suvreign to buy you and Miss summat, on'y for a token - just to match my pocket knife.'
While Bob was speaking he laid down the sovereign and resolutely twisted up his bag again.Tom pushed back the gold, and said, `No, indeed, Bob:
thank you heartily; but I can't take it.' And Maggie, taking it between her fingers, held it up to Bob, and said more persuasively, `Not now - but perhaps another time.If ever Tom or my father wants help that you can give, we'll let you know - won't we, Tom? That's what you would like - to have us always depend on you as a friend that we can go to - isn't it, Bob?'
`Yes, Miss, and thank you,' said Bob, reluctantly taking the money, `that's what I'd like - anything as you like.An'I wish you good-by, Miss, and good luck, Master Tom, and thank you for shaking hands wi' me, though you wouldn't take the money.'
Kezia's entrance, with very black looks, to inquire if she shouldn't bring in tea now, or whether the toast was to get hardened to a brick, was a seasonable check on Bob's flux of words, and hastened his parting bow.