Rob expressed in a number of short bows his lively understanding of this caution, and was bowing himself back to the door, greatly relieved by the prospect of getting on the outside of it, when his patron stopped him.
“Halloa!” he cried, calling him roughly back. “You have been—shut that door.”
Rob obeyed as if his life had depended on his alacrity.
“You have been used to eaves-dropping. Do you know what that means?”
“Listening, Sir?” Rob hazarded, after some embarrassed reflection.
His patron nodded. “And watching, and so forth.”
“I wouldn’t do such a thing here, Sir,” answered Rob; “upon my word and honour, I wouldn’t, Sir, I wish I may die if I would, Sir, for anything that could be promised to me. I should consider it is as much as all the world was worth, to offer to do such a thing, unless I was ordered, Sir.”
“You had better not” You have been used, too, to babbling and tattling,” said his patron with perfect coolness. “Beware of that here, or you’re a lost rascal,” and he smiled again, and again cautioned him with his forefinger.
The Grinder’s breath came short and thick with consternation. He tried to protest the purity of his intentions, but could only stare at the smiling gentleman in a stupor of submission, with which the smiling gentleman seemed well enough satisfied, for he ordered him downstairs, after observing him for some moments in silence, and gave him to understand that he was retained in his employment.
This was the manner of Rob the Grinder’s engagement by Mr Carker, and his awe-stricken devotion to that gentleman had strengthened and increased, if possible, with every minute of his service.