“He’s rather a good-looking boy—­the printer.”

“Think so?” drawled Fitz.  “He’s low—­all apprentices are.  I mean to keep him at a distance.”

CHAPTER VII.

A pleasant evening.

“This is my house,” said Ferguson, pausing at the gate.

Harry looked at it with interest.

It was a cottage, containing four rooms, and a kitchen in the ell part.  There was a plot of about a quarter of an acre connected with it.  Everything about it was neat, though very unpretentious.

“It isn’t a palace,” said Ferguson, “but,” he added cheerfully, “it’s a happy home, and from all I’ve read, that is more than can be said of some palaces.  Step right in and make yourself at home.”

They entered a tiny entry, and Mrs. Ferguson opened the door of the sitting-room.  She was a pleasant-looking woman, and her face wore a smile st welcome.

“Hannah,” said Ferguson, “this is our new apprentice, Harry Walton.”

“I am glad to see you,” she said, offering her hand.  “My husband has spoken of you.  You are quite welcome, if you can put up with humble fare.”

“That is what I have always been accustomed to,” said Harry, beginning to feel quite at home.

“Where are the children, Hannah?”

Two children, a boy and a girl, of six and four years respectively, bounded into the room and answered for themselves.  They looked shyly at Harry, but before many minutes their shyness had worn off, and the little girl was sitting on his knee, while the boy stood beside him.  Harry was fond of children, and readily adapted himself to his young acquaintances.

Supper was soon ready—­a plain meal, but one that Harry enjoyed.  He could not help comparing Ferguson’s plain, but pleasant home, with Clapp’s mode of life.

The latter spent on himself as much as sufficed his fellow-workman to support a wife and two children, yet it was easy to see which found the best enjoyment in life.

“How do you like your new business?” asked Mrs. Ferguson, as she handed Harry a cup of tea.

“I like all but the name,” said our hero, smiling.

“I wonder how the name came to be applied to a printer’s apprentice any more than to any other apprentice,” said Mrs. Ferguson.

“I never heard,” said her husband.  “It seems to me to be a libel upon our trade.  But there is one comfort.  If you stick to the business, you’ll outgrow the name.”

“That is lucky; I shouldn’t like to be called the wife of a ——.  I won’t pronounce the word lest the children should catch it.”

“What is it, mother?” asked Willie, with his mouth full.

“It isn’t necessary for you to know, my boy.”

“Do you know Mr. Clapp?” asked Harry.

“I have seen him, but never spoke with him.”

“I never asked him round to tea,” said Ferguson.