It was spring, but not yet sufficiently warm to do without fires; accordingly there was a trio around the stove the very morning I commenced my work.
“I see you’ve got a new boy,” said Jared Peat the tailor.
“On trial just,” answered Mr. Willett.
“Not of much account, I’ll venture; a chip of the old block,” continued Jared.
“Smart as a steel-trap,” said Esquire Clavers, “but altogether too fine notions in his head. If a boy would be any thing, he must work for it. It’s of no use trying to work and study too; one or the other will be done badly. Jeffries was telling me of his being there; he could hardly take a horse to water without having a book along to read while the horse was drinking. For my part, I wouldn’t give him his salt if he works in that manner.” Esquire Clavers had said it, and of course I should find little time for books so long as I should be in Mr. Willett’s employ.
I had heard that Esquire Clavers had once been poor, and I could not but ask myself, Has he forgotten? or was it not so dark and hard to him as it is to me?
Presently a customer asked for molasses, and I went into the back room to draw it, Mr. Willett hastening after me.
“You should not fill the measure quite full, boy.”
“She asked for a quart, sir;” and I looked up, feeling sure he had not understood, as I held but a quart measure.
“I know, but we never fill it quite full; it might run over, you know; and when you stop it, see that not a drop is lost.”