“O ho!” said Rose, —­ “it’s a joint concern! —­ that’s it.  But I think you are beginning to make up your household very early.”

Elizabeth flung down her shoe and lifted her head, and Miss Cadwallader shrunk; even before her companion said with imperious emphasis, “Rose, how dare you! —­”

Rose did not dare, against the flushed face and eye of fire which confronted her.  She fell back into her chair and her book and was dumb.

CHAPTER XX.

Ford.  They do say, if money go before, all ways do lie open. Fal.  Money is a good soldier, sir, and will on.  MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.

Somewhat to Winthrop’s surprise, Clam came the next day to remind him of his promise; very much in earnest to wear a clean frock and have her dinner regular.  She was duly bound, and entered into clean service accordingly.  The indentures were made out to Miss Haye; but for the present Clam was put to learn her business under somebody that knew it; and for that end was finally sent to Mrs. Landholm.  A week or two with Mrs. Nettley proved to the satisfaction of both parties that neither would much advantage the other.  At Shahweetah, Clam, as Mrs. Landholm expressed it, “took a new start,” and got on admirably.  What much favoured this, was the fact that she speedily became very much attached to the whole family; with the single exception of Karen, between whom and herself there was an unallayed state of friction; a friction that probably served only to better Clam’s relish of her dinner, while poor Karen declared “she didn’t leave her no rest day nor night.”

“She’s not a bad child, Karen,” said her mistress.

“Which part of her ’s good?” said Karen. “’Taint her eyes, nor her fingers; and if the Bible didn’t say there wa’n’t no such a fountain, I should think her tongue was one o’ them fountains that sent out at the same place both salt water and fresh.”

“Her fingers are pretty good, Karen.”

“There’s a two-sided will in ’em, Mrs. Landholm.”

There was no two-sided will in Clam’s first friend, nor in the energies which were steadily bearing him on towards his aim.  Steadily and surely, as he knew.  But his life in those days had almost as little to tell of, as it had much to do.  From early morning till —­ almost till early morning again, or till a new day had begun to count the hours, —­ every minute had its work; yet the record of the whole could be given in very few words, and those would not be interesting.  How should the record be, when the reality was not, even to himself.  It was all preparatory work; it must be done; but the interest of the matter lay beyond, at that point whither all these efforts tended.  Meanwhile work and have patience, and work, —­ was the epitome of his life.