By this time the poor stranger had finished his extempore meal, and shut up his pocket-knife, which he first carefully wiped on the tail of his coat. "May God bless you for this," said he. "I'm stronger now. I'll go an' hunt for a job; may-be luck won't be a stepfather to me all my days."
"Stop," cried Tom, "suppose I were to give you something to do, what would you say?"
"Faix, I wouldn't say much, sir," said the Irishman, "but I'd do it."
"Come along with me, then, and if I get any job, I'll get you to help me."
"Oh, then, may long life attend you for puttin' fresh blood in my veins," responded the excited Milesian, giving his already curiously bad hat a deliberate punch in the crown, to show his gratitude and delight.
"Bless his noble, honest, loving heart," cried Polly, as Tom, having impressed his usual kiss upon her lips, started to his labor again. "If it were not for those little fits of discontent every now and then, what a man he'd be; but we can't be all perfect; don't I catch myself thinking silks and satins sometimes, instead of cottons and calicoes? and I'll be bound, if the truth was known, the great folks that wear nothing else but grand things, don't behave a bit better, but keep longing for something a little grander still, so he mustn't be blamed, nor he shan't, neither, in my hearing."
CHAPTER III.
THE BOARDING-HOUSE.
Turn we now to the highly-genteel establishment where Henry Travers and his young wife are now domiciliated, presided over by a little more than middle-aged, severe-looking personage, who rejoiced in the euphonious name of Grimgriskin; her temper, phraseology, and general disposition may be better illustrated by the conversation which is now going on between her and her two unfortunate inmates. The mid-day accumulation of scraps, which was dignified by the name of dinner, but just over, Henry Travers, in his small, uncomfortable bed-room, was ruminating upon the darkness of his present destiny, when a sharp knock at his door admonished him that he was about to receive his usual dunning visit from his amiable landlady.
"Come in," he gasped, with the articulation of a person about to undergo a mild species of torture.