of hay."

"Rather like a bundle of hay between two asses, I think," replied Mr.
Wallis; and good-naturedly tapping me on the shoulder, he continued--
"accept Mr. Crobble's offer, Master Andrew: you're much too good for
Timmis--he can soon get a grubby half-crown boy--but you may wait a long
time for such an eligible offer."

"Eighteen shillings a week," said Mr. Crobble; who, I must confess,
without any particular stretch of self-esteem, appeared anxious to engage
me--, "but I shall want security."

That word "security" fell like an avalanche on my mounting spirit, and
cast me headlong down the imaginary ascent my busy thoughts had climbed
to!

"Five hundred pounds," continued Mr. Crobble; "d'ye think--have you any
friends?"

"None, sir; my father is a poor man, and quite unable." I could scarcely
speak--like the driver of the one-horse chaise, I could neither advance
nor recede.

"The father," said Mr. Timmis, "is only a poor shoe-maker--a good fellow
tho'--an excellent fit!"

"You mean to say," cried Mr. Wallis, "it were bootless to seek security
of the shoe-maker."

A laugh ensued; and, notwithstanding my agitated feelings, I could not
forbear being tickled by Mr. Wallis's humour, and joining in the
merriment.

This sally gave a most favourable turn to the discussion. "Come," said
Mr. Wallis, "I'll stand two hundred and fifty--and you, Timmis, must go
the other."

"No; d___ me, he may bolt with the cash-box, and let me in, perhaps,"
exclaimed Mr. Timmis. I burst into tears; I felt, that from my long and
faithful services, I deserved a better opinion--although I had no right
to expect so great a favour.

Rude as he was, he felt some compunction at having wounded my feelings;
and swore a round oath that he was only joking, and I was a fool. "Did I
think, for a moment, that Wally should get the start of him; no--I was an
honest chap, and he'd put his fist to double the amount to serve me;" and
then bade me "sit to the books," and make all square before I cut my
stick: and thus happily concluded this most momentous change in my
circumstances.

CHAPTER XV.--An Old Acquaintance.

"Only three holidays left, and still this plaguey glass says 'very
wet;'--I can't bear it--I can't--and I won't."

How impatiently did I count the minutes 'till the office was closed, for
I longed to communicate the glad tidings of my good fortune to my worthy
father. The old man wept with joy at the prospect, and