er health: she wrote cheerfully, besought him to content himself with
the state into which he had fallen, and expressed her joy that in his
letters he intimated that content; for the poor boy's letters were not
less considerate than her own. On her return from her brother, she had
so far silenced or concealed her misgivings as to express satisfaction
at the home she had provided for Sidney; and she even held out hopes
of some future when, their probation finished and their independence
secured, she might reside with her sons alternately. These hopes
redoubled Philip's assiduity, and he saved every shilling of his weekly
stipend; and sighed as he thought that in another week his term of
apprenticeship would commence, and the stipend cease.

Mr. Plaskwith could not but be pleased on the whole with the diligence
of his assistant, but he was chafed and irritated by the sullenness of
his manner. As for Mrs. Plaskwith, poor woman! she positively detested
the taciturn and moody boy, who never mingled in the jokes of the
circle, nor played with the children, nor complimented her, nor added,
in short, anything to the sociability of the house. Mr. Plimmins, who
had at first sought to condescend, next sought to bully; but the
gaunt frame and savage eye of Philip awed the smirk youth, in spite of
himself; and he confessed to Mrs. Plaskwith that he should not like
to meet "the gipsy," alone, on a dark night; to which Mrs. Plaskwith
replied, as usual, "that Mr. Plimmins always did say the best things in
the world!"

One morning, Philip was sent a few miles into the country, to assist in
cataloguing some books in the library of Sir Thomas Champerdown--that
gentleman, who was a scholar, having requested that some one acquainted
with the Greek character might be sent to him, and Philip being the only
one in the shop who possessed such knowledge.

It was evening before he returned. Mr. and Mrs. Plaskwith were both in
the shop as he entered--in fact, they had been employed in talking him
over.

"I can't abide him!" cried Mrs. Plaskwith. "If you choose to take him
for good, I sha'n't have an easy moment. I'm sure the 'prentice that cut
his master's throat at Chatham, last week, was just like him."

"Pshaw! Mrs. P.," said the bookseller, taking a huge pinch of snuff,
as usual, from his waistcoat pocket. "I myself was reserved when I was
young; all reflective people are. I may observe, by the by, that it was
the case with Napoleon Buona