'pence; and now, here, at the hind end, when I'm worn to my poor
bones, a kick and done with it." He walked a little while in silence,
and then, extending his hand, "Now, you Nance Holdaway," says he, "you
come of my blood, and you're a good girl. When that man was a boy, I
used to carry his gun for him. I carried the gun all day on my two feet,
and many a stitch I had, and chewed a bullet for. He rode upon a horse,
with feathers in his hat; but it was him that had the shots and took the
game home. Did I complain? Not I. I knew my station. What did I ask, but
just the chance to live and die honest? Nance Holdaway, don't let them
deny it to me--don't let them do it. I've been as poor as Job, and as
honest as the day, but now, my girl, you mark these words of mine, I'm
getting tired of it."

"I wouldn't say such words, at least," said Nance.

"You wouldn't?" said the old man grimly. "Well, and did I when I was
your age? Wait till your back's broke and your hands tremble, and your
eyes fail, and you're weary of the battle and ask no more but to lie
down in your bed and give the ghost up like an honest man; and then let
there up and come some insolent, ungodly fellow--ah! if I had him in
these hands! 'Where's my money that you gambled?' I should say. 'Where's
my money that you drank and diced?' 'Thief!' is what I would say;
'Thief!'" he roared, "'Thief!'"

"Mr. Archer will hear you if you don't take care," said Nance, "and I
would be ashamed, for one, that he should hear a brave, old, honest,
hard-working man like Jonathan Holdaway talk nonsense like a boy."

"D'ye think I mind for Mr. Archer?" he cried shrilly, with a clack of
laughter; and then he came close up to her, stooped down with his two
palms upon his knees, and looked her in the eyes, with a strange hard
expression, something like a smile. "Do I mind for God, my girl?" he
said; "that's what it's come to be now, do I mind for God?"

"Uncle Jonathan," she said, getting up and taking him by the arm; "you
sit down again, where you were sitting. There, sit still; I'll have no
more of this; you'll do yourself a mischief. Come, take a drink of this
good ale, and I'll warm a tankard for you. La, we'll pull through,
you'll see. I'm young, as you say, and it's my turn to carry the bundle;
and don't you worry your bile, or we'll have sickness, too, as well as
sorrow."

"D'ye think that I'd forgotten you?" said Jonathan, with something like
a groan; and thereupon his t