‘I’m sure you hadn’t need,’ said Mrs. King; ’it’s enough to distract one’s senses to count so fast.  All in your poor head too!’

‘And I’ve got to write them all out to-morrow,’ said Ellen dismally; ’I must wait till dark, or I shan’t set a stitch of work.  I wish people would pay ready money, and then one wouldn’t have to set down their bills.  Here’s Mr. Cope, bread—­bread—­bread, as long as my arm!’

‘If you didn’t mind, maybe I could save you the trouble, Miss Ellen,’ said Paul.

‘Did you ever make out a bill?’ asked Mrs. King.

’Never a real one; but every Thursday I used to do sham ones.  Once I did a jeweller’s bill for twelve thousand pounds and odd!  It is so long since I touched a pen, that may be I can’t write; but I should like to try.’

Ellen brought a pen, and the cover of a letter; and hobbling up to the table, he took the pen, cleared it of a hair that was sticking in it, made a scratch or two weakly and ineffectually, then wrote in a neat clear hand, without running up or down, ‘Friarswood, Christmas.’

‘A pretty hand as ever I saw!’ said Mrs. King.  ’Well, if you can write like that, and can be trusted to make no mistakes, you might write out our bills; and we’d be obliged to you most kindly.’

And so Paul did, so neatly, that when the next evening Mr. Cope walked in with the money, he said, looking at Harold, ’Ah! my ancient Saxon, I must make my compliments to you:  I did not think you could write letters as well as you can carry them.’

‘’Twas Paul did it, Sir,’ said Harold.

’Yes, Sir; ‘twas Paul,’ said Mrs. King.  ’The lad is a wonderful scholar:  he told off all the sums as if they was in print; and to hear him read—­’tis like nothing I ever heard since poor Mrs. Selby, Miss Jane’s mother.’

’I saw he had been very well instructed—­in acquaintance with the Bible, and the like.’

’And, Sir, before I got to know him for a boy that would not give a false account of himself, I used to wonder whether he could have run away from some school, and have friends above the common.  If you observe, Sir, he speaks so remarkably well.’

Mr. Cope had observed it.  Paul spoke much better English than did even the Kings; though Ellen was by way of being very particular, and sometimes a little mincing.

‘You are quite sure it is not so?’ he said, a little startled at Mrs. King’s surmise.

’Quite sure now, Sir.  I don’t believe he would tell a falsehood on no account; and besides, poor lad!’ and she smiled as the tears came into her eyes, ’he’s so taken to me, he wouldn’t keep nothing back from me, no more than my own boys.’

‘I’m sure he ought not, Mrs. King,’ said the Curate, ’such a mother to him as you have been.  I should like to examine him a little.  With so much education, he might do something better for himself than field-labour.’