When our hero entered the chamber of Spikeman, he was very much surprised to find it was spacious, light, and airy, and very clean. A large bed was in one corner; a sofa, mahogany table, chest of drawers, and chairs, composed the furniture; there was a good-sized looking-glass over the chimney-piece, and several shelves of books round the room. Desiring Joey to sit down and take a book, Spikeman rang for water, shaved off his beard, which had grown nearly half an inch long, washed himself, and then put on clean linen, and a very neat suit of clothes. When he was completely dressed, Joey could hardly believe that it was the same person. Upon Joey expressing his astonishment, Spikeman replied, “You see, my lad, there is no one in this town who knows what my real profession is. I always go out and return at dusk, and the travelling tinker is not recognised; not that I care for it so much, only other people do, and I respect their prejudices. They know that I am in the ironmongery line, and that is all; so I always make it a rule to enjoy myself after my circuit, and live like a gentleman till part of my money is gone, and then I set out again. I am acquainted with a good many highly respectable people in this town, and that is the reason why I said I could be of service to you. Have you any better clothes?”
“Yes; much better.”
“Then dress yourself in them, and keep those you wear for our travels.”
Joey did as he was requested, and Spikeman then proposed that they should make a call at a friend’s, where he would introduce our hero as his nephew. They set off, and soon came to the front of a neat-looking house, at the door of which Spikeman rapped. The door was opened by one of the daughters of the house, who, on seeing him, cried out, “Dear me, Mr Spikeman, is this you? Why, where have you been all this while?”
“About the country for orders, Miss Amelia,” replied Spikeman; “business must be attended to.”
“Well, come in; mother will be glad to see you,” replied the girl, at the same time opening the door of the sitting-room for them to enter.
“Mr Spikeman as I live!” exclaimed another girl, jumping up, and seizing his hand.
“Well, Mr Spikeman, it’s an age since we have seen you,” said the mother, “so now sit down and tell us all the news; and Ophelia, my love, get tea ready; and who is it you have with you, Mr Spikeman?”
“My little nephew, madam; he is about to enter into the mysteries of the cutlery trade.”
“Indeed! well, I suppose, as you are looking out for a successor, you soon intend to retire from business and take a wife, Mr Spikeman?”