was astonished at the improvement in her appearance.
She looked much younger than she did when they had parted, and her
dress was so very different that our hero could with difficulty imagine
that it was the same person who had been his companion from Gravesend.
The careless air and manner had disappeared; there was a _retenue_--a
dignity about her which astonished him and he felt a sort of respect,
mingled with his regard, for her, of which he could not divest himself.
But, if she looked younger (as may well be imagined) from her change of
life, she also looked more sedate, except when she smiled, or when
occasionally, but very rarely, her merry laughter reminded him of the
careless, good-tempered Nancy of former times. That the greeting was
warm need hardly be said. It was the greeting of a sister and younger
brother who loved each other dearly.

"You are very much grown, Joey," said Mary. "Dear boy, how happy I am
to see you!"

"And you, Mary, you're younger in the face, but older in your manners.
Are you as happy in your situation as you have told me in your letters?"

"Quite happy; more happy than ever I deserve to be, my dear boy; and now
tell me, Joey, what do you think of doing? You have now the means of
establishing yourself."

"Yes, I have been thinking of it; but I don't know what to do."

"Well, you must look out, and do not be in too great a hurry.
Recollect, Joey, that if anything offers which you have any reason to
believe will suit you, you shall have my money as well as your own."

"Nay, Mary, why should I take that?"

"Because, as it is of no use to me, it must be idle; besides, you know,
if you succeed, you will be able to pay me interest for it; so I shall
gain as well as you. You must not refuse your sister, my dear boy."

"Dear Mary, how I wish we could live in the same house!"

"That cannot be now, Joey; you are above my situation at the Hall, even
allowing that you would ever enter it."

"That I never will, if I can help it; not that I feel angry now, but I
like to be independent."

"Of course you do."

"And as for that grindstone, I hate the sight of it; it has made
Spikeman's fortune, but it never shall make mine."

"You don't agree then with your former companion," rejoined Mary, "that
a tinker's is the nearest profession to that of a gentleman which you
know of."

"I certainly do not," replied our hero; "and as soon as I can get rid of
it I will; I have rolled it here,