"Lucky that you deal in small ones," said his friend; as, awakened from his reveries and calculations, Ramsay led the way up a little back-stair to the first storey, occupied by his daughter and his little household.

The apprentices resumed their places in the front-shop, and relieved Sam Porter; when Jenkin said to Tunstall--"Didst see, Frank, how the old goldsmith cottoned in with his beggarly countryman? When would one of his wealth have shaken hands so courteously with a poor Englishman?--Well, I'll say that for the best of the Scots, that they will go over head and ears to serve a countryman, when they will not wet a nail of their finger to save a Southron, as they call us, from drowning. And yet Master George is but half-bred Scot neither in that respect; for I have known him do many a kind thing to the English too."

"But hark ye, Jenkin," said Tunstall, "I think you are but half-bred English yourself. How came you to strike on the Scotsman's side after all?"

"Why, you did so, too," answered Vincent.

"Ay, because I saw you begin; and, besides, it is no Cumberland fashion to fall fifty upon one," replied Tunstall.

"And no Christ Church fashion neither," said Jenkin. "Fair play and Old England for ever!--Besides, to tell you a secret, his voice had a twang in it--in the dialect I mean--reminded me of a little tongue, which I think sweeter--sweeter than the last toll of St. Dunstan's will sound, on the day that I am shot of my indentures--Ha!--you guess who I mean, Frank?"

"Not I, indeed," answered Tunstall.--"Scotch Janet, I suppose, the laundress."

"Off with Janet in her own bucking-basket!--No, no, no!--You blind buzzard,--do you not know I mean pretty Mrs. Marget?"

"Umph!" answered Tunstall, dryly.

A flash of anger, not unmingled with suspicion, shot from Jenkin's keen black eyes.

"Umph!--and what signifies umph? I am not the first 'prentice has married his master's daughter, I suppose?"

"They kept their own secret, I fancy," said Tunstall, "at least till they were out of their time."

"I tell you what it is, Frank," answered Jenkin, sharply, "that may be the fashion of you gentlefolks, that are taught from your biggin to carry two faces under the same hood, but it shall never be mine."

"There are the stairs, then," said Tunstall, coolly; "go up and ask Mrs. Marget of our master just now, and see what sort of a face he will wear under _his_ hood."

"No, I wonnot," answered Jenkin; "I am not such a fool as that neither. But I will take my own time; and all the Counts in Cumberland shall not cut my comb, and this is that which you may depend upon."

Francis made no reply; and they resumed their usual attention to the business of the shop, and their usual solicitations to the passengers.

CHAPTER III

_Bobadil._ I pray you, possess no gallant of your acquaintance with a knowledge of my lodging. _Master Matthew._ Who, I, sir?--Lord, sir! _Ben Jonson._