ey met very often, for Timothy's work was to stay in the
mill all night, and go round the premises at intervals in order to see
that there was no danger of fire.

Sometimes he was not gone when Stephen came in the morning; and then,
as the latter waited outside for the doors to be opened, Timothy would
enter into a conversation with him, just to show the other men that he
took a different line from theirs.

One evening--it was about a week after the discussion about Stephen
between Archie and Mr. Munster--Timothy met the pale, careworn lad
dragging himself wearily home from the mill. He looked more ragged
than ever--his clothes seemed almost ready to drop off.

"Hullo!" said Timothy; "you look as if you hadn't too many pennies to
chink against each other. What d'ye do with your wages? They don't go
in clothes--that's clear enough."

Stephen flushed deeply, in the sudden way that people do who are in a
very weak state, but he made no answer.

"I can put you in the way of earning an extra pound, if you like,"
said Timothy carelessly.

"Oh, how--how?" cried Stephen with sudden animation, clutching at
Timothy in his eagerness, and then holding on to him to keep himself
from falling.

"There--don't go and faint over it," said Timothy, pushing him off;
"and don't throttle a man either for doing you a good turn. That ain't
no encouragement. What I mean is, that I've a rather partic'lar
engagement to-morrow night, and for several nights to come--in fact,
till next Friday--and I want to get some one to take my place at the
mill."

"But will Mr. Munster let any one else come?"

"I ain't a-going to ask him. It don't matter to _him_ who's there, so
long as there _is_ some one to look after the premises. I'm going to
put in my own man; and you can have the job if you like, and take
two-thirds o' my pay--that's twenty shillings. I shall be back by
three or four o'clock in the morning, so as to give you time for a nap
before your own work begins. But if you ain't feeling up to the double
work, just say so. Now I look at you, I have my doubts, and it won't
do for you to go falling off asleep, or fainting, mind. What d'you say
to it?"

"I could do it--I'm sure I could. I wouldn't go to sleep--I promise
you I wouldn't. The only thing is, I should like--I think--if you say
it won't matter--yes, I really should like--"

"Have it out, and have done with it, and don't stand spluttering there
like a water-pipe gone wrong. Will