"If I go on prospering so," he thought, "why should I not take—in time, of course—some smart young fellow to help me in the shop? It stands to reason that customers like to be served quickly. Law, bless you! they hate waiting," he added, thoughtfully, addressing the fire, and giving it a poke, by way of comment, "the ladies always hate it. But, as I was saying, why shouldn't I take some smart young man, and he, of course— why, I know what he'd do—why, he'd fall in love with Mary, of course— and why shouldn't he?" inquired Jones, warming with his subject "Was I not a poor fellow once, and did I not marry my master's daughter?"
Mr. Jones gave the fire another poke. In the burning coals he saw a pleasing vision rise. He saw his shop full of customers; he served with slow dignity, assisted by a "tight, brisk young fellow," busy as a bee, active as a deer, for it was Saturday night, and the fair maids and matrons of the vicinity were all impatient. Then from Saturday it was Sunday; the shop was closed, the street was silent. Young Thomson was brushing his coat in the yard and whistling; Mary was upstairs dressing; another five minutes, and she comes down in straw bonnet lined with pink, clean printed muslin frock, mousseline-de-laine shawl, brown boots and blue parasol. The happy father saw them going off together with delighted eyes and brimful heart Then other visions follow; one of a wedding breakfast at which Mr. Jones sings a song, and another of half a dozen grandchildren, all tugging at his skirts, whilst he solemnly rocks the baby, and as solemnly informs the infant: "that he had done as much for its mother once."
Peace be with such dreams whenever they come to the poor man's hearth!
A little surprised at not seeing Mary as usual on the following morning, and thinking she might be unwell, Rachel Gray sent Jane to enquire. Jane soon returned, her face brimful of news.
"Well," said Rachel, "how is Mary?"
"Law bless you Miss, Mary's well enough."
"Why did she not come then?"
"She does not like dress-making no more."
And Jane sat down, and took up her work, and became deeply absorbed in a sleeve trimming. Rachel reddened and looked pained. She liked Mary; the pale, sickly child reminded her strongly of her own lost sister, and though she could allow for the natural tartness with which Jane had no doubt fulfilled her errand, yet she knew that Jane was true, and that as she represented it, the matter must be.
For a while she suspended her work, sadly wondering at the causeless ingratitude of a child whom she had treated with uniform kindness and indulgence, then she tried to dismiss the matter from her mind; but she could not do so, and when dusk came round, her first act, as soon as she laid by her work, was to slip out unperceived—for Mrs. Gray, highly indignant with Mr. Jones and his daughter, would certainly have opposed her—and go as far as the Teapot.