here, eight
years ago, he scarcely knew wassel bread from cocket, and had never seen
a fish pie save to eat. Now he has one of the best shops in Bread
Street, and four journeymen under him. And how was it done, think you?
There was neither bribery nor favour in it. Just by being honest,
cleanly, and punctual, thorough in all he undertook, and putting heart
and hands into the work. Every one of you can do as well as he did, if
you only bestir yourselves and bring your will to it. Depend upon it,
lads, `I will' can do a deal of work. `I can' is _very_ well, but if `I
will' does not help him, `I can' will not put many pennies in his
pocket. `I can'--`I ought'--`I will'--those are the three good fairies
that do a man's work for him: and the man that starts work without them
is like to turn out but a sorry fellow."

It was for Ermine's sake, that he might retain a hiding place for her if
necessary, that Stephen continued to keep up the house in Ivy Lane. The
ordinary custom was for a tradesman to live over or behind his shop.
The excuse given out to the world was that Stephen and his wife, being
country people, did not fancy being close mewed up in city streets; and
between Ivy Lane and the fresh country green and air, there were only a
few lanes and the city walls.

Those eight years passed quietly and peacefully to Stephen and Ermine.
A small family--five in number--grew up around them, and Gib purred
tranquilly on the hearth. They found new friends in London, and thanked
God that He had chosen their inheritance for them, and had set their
feet in a large room.

At that time, and for long afterwards, each trade kept by itself to its
own street or district. The mercers and haberdashers lived in West
Chepe or Cheapside, which Stephen had to go down every day. One
morning, at the end of those eight years, he noticed that a shop long
empty had been reopened, and over it hung a newly-painted signboard,
with a nun's head. As Stephen passed, a woman came to the door to hang
up some goods, and they exchanged a good look at each other.

"I wonder who it is you are like!" said Stephen to himself.

Then he passed on, and thought no more about her.

On two occasions this happened. When the third came, the woman suddenly
exclaimed--

"I know who you are now!"

"Do you?" asked Stephen, coming to a halt. "I wish I knew who you are.
I have puzzled over your likeness to somebody, and I cannot tell who it
is."

Th