test orders never to expect him. Therefore we had none to
dine with us, except the foreman of the shop, a worthy man, named
Thomas Cockram, fifty years of age or so. He seemed to me to have strong
intentions of his own about little Ruth, and on that account to regard
me with a wholly undue malevolence. And perhaps, in order to justify
him, I may have been more attentive to her than otherwise need have
been; at any rate, Ruth and I were pleasant; and he the very opposite.

'My dear Cousin Ruth,' I said, on purpose to vex Master Cockram, because
he eyed us so heavily, and squinted to unluckily, 'we have long been
looking for you at our Plover's Barrows farm. You remember how you used
to love hunting for eggs in the morning, and hiding up in the tallat
with Lizzie, for me to seek you among the hay, when the sun was down.
Ah, Master Cockram, those are the things young people find
their pleasure in, not in selling a yard of serge, and giving
twopence-halfpenny change, and writing "settled" at the bottom, with a
pencil that has blacked their teeth. Now, Master Cockram, you ought to
come as far as our good farm, at once, and eat two new-laid eggs for
breakfast, and be made to look quite young again. Our good Annie would
cook for you; and you should have the hot new milk and the pope's eye
from the mutton; and every foot of you would become a yard in about a
fortnight.' And hereupon, I spread my chest, to show him an example.
Ruth could not keep her countenance: but I saw that she thought it wrong
of me; and would scold me, if ever I gave her the chance of taking those
little liberties. However, he deserved it all, according to my young
ideas, for his great impertinence in aiming at my cousin.

But what I said was far less grievous to a man of honest mind than
little Ruth's own behaviour. I could hardly have believed that so
thoroughly true a girl, and one so proud and upright, could have got rid
of any man so cleverly as she got rid of Master Thomas Cockram. She gave
him not even a glass of wine, but commended to his notice, with a sweet
and thoughtful gravity, some invoice which must be corrected, before her
dear grandfather should return; and to amend which three great ledgers
must be searched from first to last. Thomas Cockram winked at me, with
the worst of his two wrong eyes; as much as to say, 'I understand it;
but I cannot help myself. Only you look out, if ever'--and before he had
finished winking, the door was shut be