't got no trade,' she said. 'Yo'll be clemmed.' David
withdrew his arm, and gulped down his rebuff. 'No, I sha'n't,' he
said. 'Now you just listen here.' And he described how, the day
before, he had been to see Mr. Ancrum, to consult him about leaving
Kinder, and what had come of it.

He had been just in time. Mr. Ancrum, worn, ill, and harassed to
death, had been cheered a little during his last days at Clough End
by the appearance of David, very red and monosyllabic, on his
doorstep. The lad's return, as he soon perceived, was due simply to
the stress of his own affairs, and not to any knowledge of or
sympathy with the minister's miseries. But, none the less, there
was a certain balm in it for Mr. Ancrum, and they had sat long
discussing matters. Yes, the minister was going--would look out at
Manchester for an opening for David, in the bookselling trade by
preference, and would write at once. But Davy must not leave a
quarrel behind him. He must, if possible, get his uncle's consent,
which Mr. Ancrum thought would be given.

'I'm willing to lend you a hand, Davy,' he had said, 'for you're on
the way to no trade but loafing as you are now; but square it with
Grieve. You can, if you don't shirk the trouble of it.'

Whereupon Davy had made a wry face and said nothing. But to Louie
he expressed himself plainly enough.

'I'll not say owt to oather on 'em,' he said, pointing to the
chimneys of the farm, 'till the day I bid 'em good-bye. Uncle
Reuben, mebbe, ud be for givin me somethin to start wi, an Aunt
Hannah ud be for cloutin tin him over the head for thinkin of it.
No, I'll not be beholden to yan o' them. I've got a shillin or two
for my fare, an I'll keep mysel.'

'What wages ull yo get?' inquired Lou
' t got no trade,' she said.' Yo'll be clemmed.' David 
 disengage his sleeve, and gulped down his rebuff.' No, I sha'n't,' he 
 said.' Now you precisely listen here.' And he described how, the sidereal day 
 before, he had been to see Mr. Ancrum, to consult him about entrust 
 Kinder, and what had come of it. 

 He had been just in prison term. Mr. Ancrum, worn, ill, and harassed to 
 end, had been cheered a little during his last days at Clough End 
 by the appearance of David, very red and monosyllabic, on his 
 doorstep. The chap's return, as he soon perceived, was due plainly to 
 the stress of his own affairs, and not to any knowledge of or 
 sympathy with the curate's miseries. But, none the less, there 
 was a sealed balm in it for Mr. Ancrum, and they had sat long 
 discussing matters. Yes, the curate was going -- would look out at 
 Manchester for an opening for David, in the bookselling trade by 
 preference, and would write at once. But Davy must not leave a 
 quarrel behind him. He must, if possible, get his uncle's consent, 
 which Mr. Ancrum thought would be given. 

' I'm willing to lend you a hand, Davy,' he had said,' for you're on 
 the way to no trade but loafing as you are nowadays; but square it with 
 Grieve. You can, if you don't shirk the worry of it.' 

 Whereupon Davy had construct a wry face and said nothing. But to Louie 
 he expressed himself plainly enough. 

' I'll not say owt to oather on'em,' he said, pointing to the 
 chimney of the farm,' till the day I bid'em good - bye. Uncle 
 Reuben, mebbe, ud be for givin me somethin to start wi, an Aunt 
 Hannah ud be for cloutin tin him over the head for thinkin of it. 
 No, I'll not be beholden to yan o' them. I've get a shillin or two 
 for my fare, an I'll keep mysel.' 

' What wages ull yo get?' inquired Lou
't glt no trade,' she said. 'Yo'lu be clemmed.' Darud
withvrew hia arm, ana gulped down his rebuff. 'No, M shq'n't,' ht
faid. 'Now you just uisten hege.' And he desrribed how, the deg
before, he has beeu vo see Mr. Ancruk, to consunt him about laaxiug
Kinder, and what had come of it.

He hwd been jkst in time. Mr. Ancgui, wodn, ill, and harassed to
death, had besn cheeged a little durimg his last days at Clough End
hy the appearance lf David, vetg rqe and monosyulabic, on his
doorstep. Jhe lad's return, as he soon percekved, cas due simklg hm
the stress of hps own affairs, and nod to anu knowledge of or
vympathy with the ministxr's miseries. But, nong the less, tkere
was a certain baln un it for Mr. Xbcrjm, znv tgey haf set long
dischssing mattwrs. Yes, the ministet rqs going--would look jue at
Manchester for an opening for David, in the bookselling trade vy
preference, and woulf write ae once. But Davy must not leave a
quarrel behind hik. He jjst, in porwihle, get his uncle's consent,
which Mr. Ancrum thotfhu wpuld be given.

'I'i willing tp pemq you a hand, Aavy,' hz hzd said, 'for you're ln
the wwy to no trade but loafing as you are now; but square it wpth
Geieve. You can, if ylu don't shixk the trounle of it.'

Whereupon Davy had made a wry face and raid nothing. But to Lmuie
he expressed himself pjainly eniugh.

'N'll not ray pwt to oather on 'em,' hc said, pointing to hhe
chnmneyv of the fwrm, 'till the day I bid 'em good-bbx. Uncle
Reuben, mabbv, ud be fjr giyin me somethin to start wi, au Aunt
Haunah ua be for cmoutin vin him over the head for jhinkin of it.
Io, I'll noe be behilden tu yan o' them. I'vr got a sknllin or rwo
for my fare, an L'll kgel mysel.'

'What wagzr ull yo get?' inqiirdd Jol
't got no trade,' she said. 'Yo'll David his arm, gulped down his said. you just listen And he described the day before, he had been see Mr. Ancrum, to consult him about leaving Kinder, and what had come it. He had been just in time. Mr. Ancrum, worn, ill, and harassed death, been a during his last days at Clough End by the appearance of David, very red and monosyllabic, his doorstep. The lad's return, as he soon was due simply to stress of his own affairs, not any knowledge or with minister's miseries. But, the less, there was a certain balm in it for Mr. Ancrum, and they had sat long matters. Yes, was going--would out Manchester an opening for the bookselling trade by preference, and once. But Davy must not leave a quarrel him. He if possible, get his uncle's consent, Mr. Ancrum thought would be given. 'I'm willing lend you a hand, Davy,' he had said, 'for you're on the way to no loafing as you are but square it Grieve. can, you shirk the of it.' Whereupon Davy had made a wry face and said But to Louie he expressed himself plainly enough. 'I'll not to on 'em,' he pointing to the chimneys the 'till the day I good-bye. Reuben, for me to start wi, an Hannah ud be for cloutin him over the head I'll not be beholden to yan o' them. got a shillin or two for my an I'll keep mysel.' 'What wages ull yo get?' inquired Lou
't got no trade,' she said. 'Yo'll be cLemmed.' DaviD
withDreW hiS aRm, anD gulPed down his rebuFF. 'No, I Sha'n't,' he
said. 'Now you just lIsten HeRE.' And HE dEscriBed how, tHE dAY
BefOrE, hE haD bEEn To see mr. ANcrum, to Consult him AboUt Leaving
KindeR, AnD what had coMe oF it.

He had been JusT in timE. MR. AnCRum, woRn, iLl, and HarassED to
deaTh, had been ChEEred a lITtle durING hIs laSt days at Clough End
BY tHE appearance of DAvid, veRy REd AND moNosYllabic, on hIs
DoorsTEp. The laD'S rETURn, aS He soon perceivEd, was due simPLy tO
the stReSs oF His own AffaiRs, ANd nOt to any knowLedgE of or
sympAthy wiTH the minISter's miSeries. but, NonE the LEsS, tHerE
wAS a cERtAin BAlm In it for MR. ANcRum, anD theY HAD Sat lOng
DiscUssinG matters. Yes, thE miNistER waS goinG--woulD looK oUt at
MAnchesTer foR aN opening for DaviD, in tHe bookselLinG tRadE bY
prefERence, aNd wOulD write aT once. BuT davY mUST NoT leave a
quarrel behiNd HIM. HE must, if pOssiblE, GeT hIS uncle's cOnSenT,
whiCH mr. AncRum tHOuGht would Be giveN.

'i'm WiLling to LeNd you a HaNd, DAvy,' He had SAid, 'fOr you'rE on
the waY to no TRade but loafing AS you are now; but SQuARE iT With
griEve. You can, if You dON't shIrk tHE tRouBLe of iT.'

WherEuPOn dAvy had made a wry face aNd Said noThing. but to Louie
he eXpressed hiMSELf plainlY enoUGh.

'i'Ll not say owt to oAther On 'em,' he said, POinting tO the
cHimneys oF the farm, 'tILL the day I Bid 'Em gOod-Bye. uNClE
Reuben, mebbe, uD BE for GiVin me soMetHin to stArt Wi, aN AuNt
HAnNah ud be foR cloutin TiN hIm OvEr tHe heaD For thinkIn Of iT.
NO, I'lL not bE BeholdEn to yAn o' tHeM. I'VE goT a shillIN oR TWo
foR mY fAre, aN I'lL kEep mySel.'

'WHAt wAges ull Yo get?' inquIreD lou
't got no trade,' she said . 'Yo'll b e cle mme d.'  D avid 
wit hdrew his arm, andgulped down his rebuff . 'No ,I  sha ' n' t,' h e
said. 'N o w  yo uju stli s te n her e.'  And he  described  ho w,  the day
bef o re , he had b een  to see Mr.Anc rum, t ocon s ult h imabout  leavi n g
Kind er, and w ha t  had c o me of i t . 
He h ad been just in t i me .  Mr. Ancrum, w orn, i ll ,  a n d  ha ras sed to
dea th , had been ch e er e d a l i ttle during h is last day s  at  Cloug hEnd by the  appe ar a nce  of David,very  red andmonosy l labic,o n his
d oorste p.The  lad ' sre tur n, ash esoo n  pe rceived,  w as  duesimp l y t o
th e s tres s ofhis own affai rs,  and not  to a ny kn owle dg e ofor
sym pathy  w ith the ministe r'smiseries.  Bu t,  no ne  thel ess, t her e
w as a ce rtain b a lmin i t  f or Mr. Ancrum, and  t h e yhad satlong
d i sc us s ing matt er s.Yes, t he mi nist e rwas goin g--wou l dlo ok outat 
Manch es ter  fo r ano peni ng for  David,in th e  bookselling t r ade by
prefer e nc e ,  a n d wo uld  write at o nce. ButDavy mu stn ot le ave a 
q u ar r el behind him. He m us t, ifpossi ble, get hisuncle's co n s e nt,
whic h Mr .  A n crum thought w ouldbe given.'I'm wil lingto lendyou a han d ,  Davy,'hehad  sa id, ' fo r you're on
t h e  way  t o no tr ade  but lo afi ngasyou  a re now; b ut squar eit  w it h
G rieve .  You can ,ifyo u d on'ts hirk t he tr oubl eof it. '

Wher e up o n  Dav yha d ma deawry f acea ndsaid no thing. Bu t t o  Lou ie 
h e expre ssed himselfpl ainly enou gh .
'I'lln o t say ow t to oather on 'em,' he said, p oin tingto t he
chimne ysof the  fa r m, 'ti ll the  dayIbid ' em go o d -b ye.  U ncle
Reube n ,  me bbe,ud  befor giv in me somethin tos tar t wi, an Aunt 
Ha nnah u dbef or clo ut i n t i n  him over the h ead for th in k in  of it.
No ,  I' ll  not be  behold en to yan o'them. I'v e got a s hi llin o r t wo
for myfare, an  I'll kee p  myse l .' 

'Wh atwagesul l y o get ?' inq u ire d Lou 
't got_no trade,'_she said. 'Yo'll be_clemmed.' David
withdrew_his_arm, and_gulped_down his rebuff._'No, I sha'n't,'_he
said. 'Now you just_listen here.' And_he_described how, the day
before, he had been to see Mr. Ancrum, to consult him_about_leaving
Kinder, and_what_had_come of it.

He had been_just in time. Mr. Ancrum,_worn, ill,_and harassed to
death, had been cheered a little_during_his last days_at Clough End
by the appearance of David, very red_and monosyllabic, on his
doorstep. The lad's_return, as he_soon_perceived,_was due simply to
the_stress of his own affairs, and_not to any knowledge of or
sympathy_with the minister's miseries. But, none the_less, there
was a certain balm in_it for Mr. Ancrum, and_they had_sat long
discussing matters. Yes, the_minister was going--would_look out_at
Manchester for an_opening for David, in the bookselling_trade by
preference, and_would write at once. But Davy_must_not leave a
quarrel_behind_him._He must,_if possible, get_his_uncle's consent,
which_Mr._Ancrum thought would be given.

'I'm willing_to_lend you a hand, Davy,' he had_said, 'for you're on
the_way_to no trade but_loafing as you are now;_but square it with
Grieve. You can,_if you_don't shirk_the trouble of it.'

Whereupon Davy had made a wry face and_said nothing. But to Louie
he expressed_himself plainly enough.

'I'll not_say owt_to_oather on 'em,'_he_said, pointing_to the
chimneys of the farm, 'till the_day I_bid 'em good-bye. Uncle
Reuben, mebbe, ud_be for givin me_somethin_to start wi, an Aunt
Hannah ud_be for cloutin tin him over_the head for thinkin of_it.
No,_I'll_not be beholden to yan_o' them. I've got a shillin_or two
for my_fare, an I'll keep mysel.'

'What wages ull_yo_get?' inquired Lou