There were confidences between the miser and Mrs. Pamflett, and when he returned to Parksides he related to her what had occurred.
"You will want a new clerk," she said. "Take Jeremiah."
Miser Farebrother put his right hand up to his chin, and repeated, musingly, "Take Jeremiah."
"You couldn't do better," said Mrs. Pamflett, "and you are almost certain to do worse."
She spoke in a hard tone; there was no pleading in her voice and manner: had there been, the probability is that she would not have succeeded.
"How old is he now?" asked Miser Farebrother.
"Seventeen last birthday."
"Decent looking?"
"Yes."
"A good writer?"