'You know, Shuck, I never do interfere with Mr. Hunter's men,' said Mrs. Hunter. 'I consider that intelligent workmen, as you are, ought to be above any advice that I could offer. But I cannot help saying how sad it is that you should waste your time. Were you not discharged a little while ago, and taken on again under a specific promise, made by you to Mr. Henry Hunter, that you would be diligent in future?'
'I am diligent,' grumbled Sam. 'But why, ma'am—a chap must take holiday now and then. 'Tain't in human nature to be always having the shoulder at the wheel.'
'Well, pray be cautious,' said Mrs. Hunter. 'If you offend again, and get discharged, I know they will not be so ready to take you back. Remember your little children, and be steady for their sakes.'
Sam went indoors to his pipe, to his wife's tongue, and to despatch a child to get the pewter pot replenished.
CHAPTER VIII. FIVE THOUSAND POUNDS!
Mrs. Hunter, turning out of Mr. Shuck's gate, stepped inside Mrs. Quale's, who was astonishing her with the shortcomings of the Shucks, and prophesying that their destiny would be the workhouse, when Austin Clay came forth. He had been home to dinner, and was now going back to the yard. Mrs. Hunter said good morning to her talkative friend, and walked away by Austin's side—Mrs. Baxendale, Sam Shuck, and Daffodil's Delight generally, forming themes of converse. Austin raised his hat to her when they came to the gates of the yard.
'No, I am not about to part; I am going in with you,' said Mrs. Hunter. 'I want to speak just a word to my husband, if he is at liberty. Will you find him for me?'
'He has been in his private room all the morning, and is probably there still,' said Austin. 'Do you know where Mr. Hunter is?' he inquired of a man whom they met.