ion to my ears; and I shan't think myself safe till I am at my
poor father's and mother's.

She was a little angry with me, till I assured her that I had not the
least uneasiness on her account, but thought myself safe under her
protection and friendship. And so we dropt the discourse for that time.

I hope to have finished this ugly waistcoat in two days; after which
I have only some linen to get up, and shall then let you know how
I contrive as to my passage; for the heavy rains will make it sad
travelling on foot: but may be I may get a place to which is ten miles
of the way, in farmer Nichols's close cart; for I can't sit a horse well
at all, and may be nobody will be suffered to see me on upon the way.
But I hope to let you know more. From, etc.

LETTER XXII

MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,

All my fellow-servants have now some notion that I am to go away; but
can't imagine for what. Mrs. Jervis tells them, that my father and
mother, growing in years, cannot live without me; and so I go home to
them, to help to comfort their old age; but they seem not to believe it.

What they found it out by was; the butler heard him say to me, as I
passed by him, in the entry leading to the hall, Who's that? Pamela,
sir, said I. Pamela! said he, How long are you to stay here?--Only,
please your honour, said I, till I have done the waistcoat; and it
is almost finished.--You might, says he, (very roughly indeed,) have
finished that long enough ago, I should have thought. Indeed, and please
your honour, said I, I have worked early and late upon it; there is a
great deal of work in it.--Work in it! said he; You mind your pen more
than your needle; I don't want such idle sluts to stay in my house.

He seemed startled, when he saw the butler, as he entered the hall,
where Mr. Jonathan stood. What do you here? said he.--The butler was as
much confounded as I; for, never having been taxed so roughly, I could
not help crying sadly; and got out of both their ways to Mrs. Jervis,
and told my complaint. This love, said she, is the d----! In how many
strange shapes does it make people shew themselves! And in some the
farthest from their hearts.

So one, and then another, has been since whispering, Pray, Mrs. Jervis,
are we to lose Mrs. Pamela? as they always call me--What has she done?
And she tells them, as above, about going home to you.

She said afterwards to me, Well, Pamela, you have made our master, from
the sweetest tempe