“You’re very good to say so, sir, and I’m not unthankful.  But”—­Adam continued, in a decided tone—­“I shouldn’t like to make any offers to Mr. Burge, or t’ have any made for me.  I see no clear road to a partnership.  If he should ever want to dispose of the business, that ’ud be a different matter.  I should be glad of some money at a fair interest then, for I feel sure I could pay it off in time.”

“Very well, Adam,” said Arthur, remembering what Mr. Irwine had said about a probable hitch in the love-making between Adam and Mary Burge, “we’ll say no more about it at present.  When is your father to be buried?”

“On Sunday, sir; Mr. Irwine’s coming earlier on purpose.  I shall be glad when it’s over, for I think my mother ’ull perhaps get easier then.  It cuts one sadly to see the grief of old people; they’ve no way o’ working it off, and the new spring brings no new shoots out on the withered tree.”

“Ah, you’ve had a good deal of trouble and vexation in your life, Adam.  I don’t think you’ve ever been hare-brained and light-hearted, like other youngsters.  You’ve always had some care on your mind.”

“Why, yes, sir; but that’s nothing to make a fuss about.  If we’re men and have men’s feelings, I reckon we must have men’s troubles.  We can’t be like the birds, as fly from their nest as soon as they’ve got their wings, and never know their kin when they see ’em, and get a fresh lot every year.  I’ve had enough to be thankful for:  I’ve allays had health and strength and brains to give me a delight in my work; and I count it a great thing as I’ve had Bartle Massey’s night-school to go to.  He’s helped me to knowledge I could never ha’ got by myself.”

“What a rare fellow you are, Adam!” said Arthur, after a pause, in which he had looked musingly at the big fellow walking by his side.  “I could hit out better than most men at Oxford, and yet I believe you would knock me into next week if I were to have a battle with you.”

“God forbid I should ever do that, sir,” said Adam, looking round at Arthur and smiling.  “I used to fight for fun, but I’ve never done that since I was the cause o’ poor Gil Tranter being laid up for a fortnight.  I’ll never fight any man again, only when he behaves like a scoundrel.  If you get hold of a chap that’s got no shame nor conscience to stop him, you must try what you can do by bunging his eyes up.”

Arthur did not laugh, for he was preoccupied with some thought that made him say presently, “I should think now, Adam, you never have any struggles within yourself.  I fancy you would master a wish that you had made up your mind it was not quite right to indulge, as easily as you would knock down a drunken fellow who was quarrelsome with you.  I mean, you are never shilly-shally, first making up your mind that you won’t do a thing, and then doing it after all?”