means hopeful, on that head.
Still, we must hope that you will improve."

It was terrible to Bob to learn that he was to go, fifteen months
sooner than he had expected, to his uncle's; but he was somewhat
relieved when, upon his arrival at the house at Philpot Lane, his
uncle, after a very grave lecture on the enormity of his conduct at
school, said:

"I have been thinking, Robert, that it will be more pleasant, both
for you and for me, that you should not, at present, take up your
abode here. I am not accustomed to young people. It would worry me
having you here and, after your companionship with boys of your own
age, you might find it somewhat dull.

"I have therefore arranged with Mr. Medlin, my principal clerk, for
you to board with him. He has, I believe, some boys and girls of
about your own age. You will, I hope, be able to make yourself
comfortable there."

"Thank you, uncle," Bob said, suppressing his impulse to give a
shout of satisfaction, and looking as grave as possible. "I think
that would be a very nice arrangement."

"Mr. Medlin is a very trustworthy person," Mr. Bale went on. "He
has been with me for upwards of twenty years, and I have the
greatest confidence in him.

"You had better sit down here, and take a book. At five o'clock
come down into the counting house. Mr. Medlin will leave at that
hour."

Bob had hitherto avoided the counting house. He had occasionally,
on previous visits, slipped down to his friend the foreman; and had
wandered through the great cellars, and watched the men at work
bottling, and gazed in surprise at the long tiers of casks stacked
up to the roof of the cellar, and the countless bottles stowed away
in the bins. Once or twice he had gone down into the counting
house, with his uncle; and waited there a few minutes, until the
foreman was disengaged. He had noticed Mr. Medlin at work at his
high desk, in one corner--keeping, as it seemed to him, his eye
upon two young clerks, who sat on high stools at opposite sides of
the desk, on the other side of the office.

Mr. Medlin had a little rail round the top of his desk, and
curtains on rods that could be drawn round it. He was a man of six
or seven and thirty; with a long face, smooth shaven. He always
seemed absorbed in his work and, when spoken to by Mr. Bale,
answered in the fewest possible words, in an even, mechanical
voice. It had seemed to Bob that he had been entirely oblivious to
his presence; and it did no