die-sinking establishment which employed him
there were, it is true, two men who belonged to the collarless; but
their business was down in the basement of the building, where they
kept up a furnace, worked huge stamping-machines, and so on. Bob's
workshop was upstairs, and the companions with whom he sat, without
exception, had something white and stiff round their necks; in fact,
they were every bit as respectable as Sidney Kirkwood, and such as he,
who bent over a jeweller's table. To John Hewett it was no slight
gratification that he had been able to apprentice his son to a craft
which permitted him always to wear a collar. I would not imply that
John thought of the matter in these terms, but his reflections bore
this significance. Bob was raised for ever above the rank of those who
depend merely upon their muscles, even as Clara was saved from the
dismal destiny of the women who can do nothing but sew.

There was, on the whole, some reason why John Hewett should feel pride
in his eldest son. Like Sidney Kirkwood, Bob had early shown a faculty
for draughtsmansbip; when at school, he made decidedly clever
caricatures of such persons as displeased him, and he drew such
wonderful horses (on the race-course or pulling cabs), such laughable
donkeys in costers' carts, such perfect dogs, that on several occasions
some friend had purchased with a veritable shilling a specimen of his
work. 'Put him to the die-sinking,' said an acquaintance of the family,
himself so employed; 'he'll find a use for this kind of thing some
day.' Die-sinking is not the craft it once was; cheap methods,
vulgarising here as everywhere, have diminished the opportunities of
capable men; but a fair living was promised the lad if he stuck to his
work, and at the age of nineteen he was already earning his pound a
week. Then he was clever in a good many other ways. He had an ear for
music, played (nothing else was within his reach) the concertina, sang
a lively song with uncommon melodiousness--a gift much appreciated at
the meetings of a certain Mutual Benefit Club, to which his father had
paid a weekly subscription, without fail, through all adversities. In
the regular departments of learning Bob had never shown any particular
aptitude; he wrote and read decently, but his speech, as you have had
occasion for observing, was not marked by refinement, and for books he
had no liking. His father, unfortunately, had spoilt him, just as he
had spoilt Clara.