same denomination,
big and little's nothing to do with the sum!"

During this rather heated exhortation to coolness and discretion the
pipe had gone out, and Bartle gave the climax to his speech by striking
a light furiously, after which he puffed with fierce resolution, fixing
his eye still on Adam, who was trying not to laugh.

"There's a good deal o' sense in what you say, Mr. Massey," Adam began,
as soon as he felt quite serious, "as there always is. But you'll give
in that it's no business o' mine to be building on chances that may
never happen. What I've got to do is to work as well as I can with the
tools and mater'als I've got in my hands. If a good chance comes to me,
I'll think o' what you've been saying; but till then, I've got nothing
to do but to trust to my own hands and my own head-piece. I'm turning
over a little plan for Seth and me to go into the cabinet-making a bit
by ourselves, and win a extra pound or two in that way. But it's getting
late now--it'll be pretty near eleven before I'm at home, and Mother may
happen to lie awake; she's more fidgety nor usual now. So I'll bid you
good-night."

"Well, well, we'll go to the gate with you--it's a fine night," said
Bartle, taking up his stick. Vixen was at once on her legs, and without
further words the three walked out into the starlight, by the side of
Bartle's potato-beds, to the little gate.

"Come to the music o' Friday night, if you can, my boy," said the old
man, as he closed the gate after Adam and leaned against it.

"Aye, aye," said Adam, striding along towards the streak of pale road.
He was the only object moving on the wide common. The two grey donkeys,
just visible in front of the gorse bushes, stood as still as limestone
images--as still as the grey-thatched roof of the mud cottage a little
farther on. Bartle kept his eye on the moving figure till it passed into
the darkness, while Vixen, in a state of divided affection, had twice
run back to the house to bestow a parenthetic lick on her puppies.

"Aye, aye," muttered the schoolmaster, as Adam disappeared, "there you
go, stalking along--stalking along; but you wouldn't have been what you
are if you hadn't had a bit of old lame Bartle inside you. The strongest
calf must have something to suck at. There's plenty of these big,
lumbering fellows 'ud never have known their A B C if it hadn't been for
Bartle Massey. Well, well, Vixen, you foolish wench, what is it, what is
it? I must go in,