“No, I’m not,” he said tartly. “Much bothered. Money matters?” and he took another pinch of snuff. “So you’ve called to ask me to say a word for you to come back to the office, eh? Well, I’m glad, boy—I’m glad! Take it as settled. You can come back to-morrow morning! I will have you, or I’ll know the reason why.”
I stared at him aghast.
“Oh no, Mr Rowle,” I said, “I only came to see you. I thought I should like to. I’m getting on so well.”
“Are you, though? Engineering, eh? Well, I’m sorry for it. No, no: I’m glad of it, my lad. I hope you will get on. But I liked you for a reading-boy. You were the only chap I ever had who could stand by me when I took snuff without sneezing all over the slips, and that’s a great thing. Have a pinch?” he said, offering me his box. “No, no: of course not, I forgot. Glad you came to see me, Grace—very glad. Here, Mrs Jennings,” he cried, going to the door, and shouting down the stairs; “I’ve got a young friend here: bring up some sugar-candy and biscuits and cinnamon; anything nice you’ve got.”
“I really don’t want anything, Mr Jabez,” I said.
“Oh, yes, you do, boy. Ho, hi! Mrs Jennings, bring up some figs.”
He toddled back to his chair, but was up again directly, to shout down the staircase:
“Bring up some almonds and raisins, and candied peel, Mrs Jennings.”
“Lor’ bless the man, do you want the whole shop?” shouted a sharp voice.
“No, I don’t,” said Mr Jabez grumpily, as he toddled back. “I was an out-and-outer for candied peel when I was a boy,” he said, rubbing his hands. “Those dried apples, too, that look as if they had been sat upon by old women, Grace. Ah, I spent a lot of pennies on them when I was a boy.”