The baker looked him over with a good-natured but doubtful expression.
“Want to serve me, do you? Whence come you?”
“I’m an upland man.” (From the country.)
“Got any one to speak for you?”
“A pair of eyes, a pair of hands, a fair wit, and a good will to work.”
The fat baker looked amused. “And an honest repute, eh?” said he.
“I have it, but I can’t give it you, except from my wife, and I scarcely suppose you’ll be satisfied to go to her for my character.”
“I’m not so sure of that!” laughed the baker. “If she’d speak truth, she could give you the character best worth having of any.”
“She never yet spoke any thing else, nor did I.”
“Ha, jolife!—you must be a fine pair. Well, now, speak the truth, and tell me why a decent, tidy-seeming young fellow like you can’t get a character to give me.”