very sorry for that. Tell me your reason. I don't ask out of mere
curiosity."

Henry replied with less than his usual candor; "Is it not reason enough
for leaving a place, that my life has been attempted in it, and now my
livelihood is taken?"

"Those are strong reasons. But, on the other hand, your life is no
longer in danger; and your livelihood is not gone; for, to speak
plainly, I came over here the moment I heard you were discharged, to
ask if you would enter my service on the same terms as Mr. Cheetham gave
you, only guineas instead of pounds."

"What, turn doctor?"

"Oh dear, no; the doctors' Union would forbid that. No, Mr. Little, I am
going to ask you to pay me a compliment; to try my service blindfold for
one week. You can leave it if you don't like it; but give me one week's
trial."

"How can I refuse you that?" said Henry, hanging his head. "You have
been a good friend to me. But, sir, mark my words, this place will be my
destruction. Well, when am I to begin work?"

"To-morrow, at ten."

"So be it," said Henry, wearily, then left the works and went home;
but, as he went, he said to himself. "It is not my doing." And his
double-faced heart glowed and exulted secretly.

He told his mother how the Trades had beaten him, and he was out of
work.

Mrs. Little consoled him hypocritically. She was delighted. Then he told
her his departure had been delayed by Dr. Amboyne: that made her look a
little anxious.

"One question, dear: now the Union has beaten you, they will not be so
spiteful, will they?"

"Oh, no. That is all over. The conquerors can afford to be good-natured.
Confound them!"

"Then that is all I care about. Then do not leave Hillsborough. Why
should you? Wait here patiently. You do not know what may turn up."

"What, mother, do YOU want to stay here now?" said Henry, opening his
eyes with astonishment.

"Wherever my son is happy and safe from harm, there I wish to stay--of
course."

Next morning Henry called on Dr. Amboyne, and found him in his study,
teaching what looked a boy of sixteen, but was twenty-two, to read
monosyllables. On Little's entrance the pupil retired front his uphill
work, and glowered with vacillating eyes. The lad had a fair feminine
face, with three ill things in it: a want, a wildness, and a weakness.
To be sure Henry saw it at a disadvantage: for vivid intelligence would
come now and then across this mild, wild, vacant face, like the breeze
that sweeps a