I was lost in a pleasant reverie, when the sharp voice of Mr. Timmis recalled me.

“Andrew,” said he, “my friend Crobble wants a clerk, and has cast his eye upon you.  What do you say?”

I scarcely knew what to say.  On one side stood my master, to whom I really owed so much—­on the other his friend, who offered me a promotion, which I felt, on many accounts, was most attractive.  “I should have no objection,” I replied, “but great pleasure in serving Mr. Crobble, sir—­but—­I have received so many favours from you, that I’m afraid I might seem ungrateful.”

The good-natured Mr. Wallis happily stepped in at this moment to my relief.

“Nonsense,” replied Mr. Timmis; “the stock is delivered to the highest bidder; here Crobble backs eighteen shillings a week against my half-a-crown-take him.”

I still felt some hesitation, although it was evident, from his expression, that Mr. Timmis valued the servant much less than the servant valued the master.

“Only look here, Wally,” cried he; “here stands Andrew, like an ass between two bundles of hay.”

“Rather like a bundle of hay between two asses, I think,” replied Mr. Wallis; and good-naturedly tapping me on the shoulder, he continued—­” accept Mr. Crobble’s offer, Master Andrew:  you’re much too good for Timmis—­he can soon get a grubby half-crown boy—­but you may wait a long time for such an eligible offer.”

“Eighteen shillings a week,” said Mr. Crobble; who, I must confess, without any particular stretch of self-esteem, appeared anxious to engage me—­, “but I shall want security.”

That word “security” fell like an avalanche on my mounting spirit, and cast me headlong down the imaginary ascent my busy thoughts had climbed to!

“Five hundred pounds,” continued Mr. Crobble; “d’ye think—­have you any friends?”

“None, sir; my father is a poor man, and quite unable.”  I could scarcely speak—­like the driver of the one-horse chaise, I could neither advance nor recede.

“The father,” said Mr. Timmis, “is only a poor shoe-maker—­a good fellow tho’—­an excellent fit!”

“You mean to say,” cried Mr. Wallis, “it were bootless to seek security of the shoe-maker.”

A laugh ensued; and, notwithstanding my agitated feelings, I could not forbear being tickled by Mr. Wallis’s humour, and joining in the merriment.

This sally gave a most favourable turn to the discussion.  “Come,” said Mr. Wallis, “I’ll stand two hundred and fifty—­and you, Timmis, must go the other.”

“No; d___ me, he may bolt with the cash-box, and let me in, perhaps,”
exclaimed Mr. Timmis.   I burst into tears; I felt, that from my long and
faithful services, I deserved a better opinion—­although I had no right
to expect so great a favour.

Rude as he was, he felt some compunction at having wounded my feelings; and swore a round oath that he was only joking, and I was a fool.  “Did I think, for a moment, that Wally should get the start of him; no—­I was an honest chap, and he’d put his fist to double the amount to serve me;” and then bade me “sit to the books,” and make all square before I cut my stick:  and thus happily concluded this most momentous change in my circumstances.