s in her when she broke a
plate, and wouldn't say she was sorry. I know she goes to Crickledon and
talks us over. She's a willing worker, but she has no heart."

Tinman had been accustomed in his shop at Helmstone--where heaven
had blessed him with the patronage of the rich, as visibly as rays of
supernal light are seen selecting from above the heads of prophets in
the illustrations to cheap holy books--to deal with willing workers that
have no hearts. Before the application for an advance of wages--and he
knew the signs of it coming--his method was to calculate how much he
might be asked for, and divide the estimated sum by the figure 4; which,
as it seemed to come from a generous impulse, and had been unsolicited,
was often humbly accepted, and the willing worker pursued her lean and
hungry course in his service. The treatment did not always agree with
his males. Women it suited; because they do not like to lift up their
voices unless they are in a passion; and if you take from them the
grounds of temper, you take their words away--you make chickens of them.
And as Tinman said, "Gratitude I never expect!" Why not? For the reason
that he knew human nature. He could record shocking instances of the
ingratitude of human nature, as revealed to him in the term of his
tenure of the shop at Helmstone. Blest from above, human nature's
wickedness had from below too frequently besulphured and suffumigated
him for his memory to be dim; and though he was ever ready to own
himself an example that heaven prevaileth, he could cite instances of
scandal-mongering shop-women dismissed and working him mischief in the
town, which pointed to him in person for a proof that the Powers of
Good and Evil were still engaged in unhappy contention. Witness Strikes!
witness Revolutions!

"Tell her, when she lays the cloth, that I advance her, on account of
general good conduct, five shillings per annum. Add," said Tinman, "that
I wish no thanks. It is for her merits--to reward her; you understand
me, Martha?"

"Quite; if you think it prudent, Martin."

"I do. She is not to breathe a syllable to cook."

"She will."

"Then keep your eye on cook."

Mrs. Cavely promised she would do so. She felt sure she was paying five
shillings for ingratitude; and, therefore, it was with humility that she
owned her error when, while her brother sipped his sugared acrid liquor
after dinner (in devotion to the doctor's decree, that he should take
a couple of