been strong within him all the while.  The word “gentleman” had a spell for Adam, and, as he often said, he “couldn’t abide a fellow who thought he made himself fine by being coxy to’s betters.”  I must remind you again that Adam had the blood of the peasant in his veins, and that since he was in his prime half a century ago, you must expect some of his characteristics to be obsolete.

Towards the young squire this instinctive reverence of Adam’s was assisted by boyish memories and personal regard so you may imagine that he thought far more of Arthur’s good qualities, and attached far more value to very slight actions of his, than if they had been the qualities and actions of a common workman like himself.  He felt sure it would be a fine day for everybody about Hayslope when the young squire came into the estate—­such a generous open-hearted disposition as he had, and an “uncommon” notion about improvements and repairs, considering he was only just coming of age.  Thus there was both respect and affection in the smile with which he raised his paper cap as Arthur Donnithorne rode up.

“Well, Adam, how are you?” said Arthur, holding out his hand.  He never shook hands with any of the farmers, and Adam felt the honour keenly.  “I could swear to your back a long way off.  It’s just the same back, only broader, as when you used to carry me on it.  Do you remember?”

“Aye, sir, I remember.  It ’ud be a poor look-out if folks didn’t remember what they did and said when they were lads.  We should think no more about old friends than we do about new uns, then.”

“You’re going to Broxton, I suppose?” said Arthur, putting his horse on at a slow pace while Adam walked by his side.  “Are you going to the rectory?”

“No, sir, I’m going to see about Bradwell’s barn.  They’re afraid of the roof pushing the walls out, and I’m going to see what can be done with it before we send the stuff and the workmen.”

“Why, Burge trusts almost everything to you now, Adam, doesn’t he?  I should think he will make you his partner soon.  He will, if he’s wise.”

“Nay, sir, I don’t see as he’d be much the better off for that.  A foreman, if he’s got a conscience and delights in his work, will do his business as well as if he was a partner.  I wouldn’t give a penny for a man as ’ud drive a nail in slack because he didn’t get extra pay for it.”

“I know that, Adam; I know you work for him as well as if you were working for yourself.  But you would have more power than you have now, and could turn the business to better account perhaps.  The old man must give up his business sometime, and he has no son; I suppose he’ll want a son-in-law who can take to it.  But he has rather grasping fingers of his own, I fancy.  I daresay he wants a man who can put some money into the business.  If I were not as poor as a rat, I would gladly invest some money in that way, for the sake of having you settled on the estate.  I’m sure I should profit by it in the end.  And perhaps I shall be better off in a year or two.  I shall have a larger allowance now I’m of age; and when I’ve paid off a debt or two, I shall be able to look about me.”