"Ay-to do as aw do:

Gather honey all the day,

Fra every openin' flower.

Ax mester the meanin' o' that. Go alung, little boys."

When they were gone, and Job had enjoyed his secret chuckle, he began to think he had been over-magnanimous in his dealings with them.

"Idle rogues; thae might hae helped me on to th' line wi' it. Coom, coom, thank goodness, aw'll soon hae done, and git ma shillin', and go and look after th' lodger."

By an intricate and elaborate series of manœuvres Job managed to get the carpet on to the line bit by bit, though when he made the last haul the exclamation was wrung from him in self pity: "Eigh! ma back!"

Next he looked for the stick, which he found close by; and so, at last, Job was prepared to beat his first carpet. "Now for a tremendous blow," he said to himself, but the stick fell so innocently, and excited so little commotion, that a butterfly chose, the very instant after, to settle down on the top of the carpet, as if to take a good look at Job, and ask him what he meant to do.

Job, however, felt fatigued, and looked about him, muttering, "Aw seed a lady's garden-cheer hereabouts;" yes, it was there still, by the wall; and Job fetched it, and sat down, contented with the past, but grimly contemplating the future. However, he again raised his stick, and struck a second, and decidedly harder blow. It was well the butterfly had gone zig-zagging off before then.

"Two!" emphatically and cheerily grunted Job. "That wur a one-er, aw think! Not industrious, eh? O, it's if a mon once loses his carackter; it's all up then!

na use,

Nowt but injustice, no more!" Again Job raised his stick, in a fit of moral and social indignation, when he stopped, and began to rummage his pockets.

"Aw think aw'll have a pint o' mild ale, first." Then he shook his head, saying, contemplatively, "Na, na brass! Na tick! An' if aw go to th' house, happen the widow'll be there, an'll bullyrag ma for nowt. How aw do hate this kind o' wark! There!"

Job had struck this time with all his strength, yet so vaguely and savagely, that he cut the cord where the carpet on it terminated, and down dropped the heavy burden, leaving Job with the broken stick in his hand, staring helplessly.

"Ivery bit on it to do ower agin!" was all he could murmur, between his teeth, when he did speak. No wonder he was too much occupied to notice that the widow, who had gone away after her first peep at Job's operations, now returned, bringing Barbara with her; and that under cover of some espalier apple-trees which exended from the gate, round the paddock, and close by the trees, they were stealthily approaching him.

"Oh!" grinned Job, with rage, as he kicked the prostrate enemy. "Down, are yo! Mak' ma a bed, then!" He gave another kick. "Now a pillow!" And again he kicked. "There, aw'll mak' summut o' yo." And then Job, giving a sidelong glance, to see that no one could watch his movements from the upper windows of the house, began to lay himself down, and tuck himself up, and make himself comfortable for his noontide nap; talking, however, aloud to himself the while, "An' aw'll tell yo a bit o' ma mind; an' yo may tell widow, if yo

likes; ay, an' her daughter too, for whatten I care. Hang wark! Dosta hear? Aw does hate wark! Hear that? Aw won't wark! If aw does wark, may aw be—”

Why does Job suddenly become speechless, and turn pale, even through all the dirt of his face, lying there in innumerable strata? Can it be on account of the widow, whose look he sees fixed on him? Unable to stand the gaze of those mild, yet genial eyes, Job thinks he'll turn. and get up-when lo! Barbara's beautiful countenance greets him, trying to shake her head, but involuntarily shaking her sides instead; while the brilliant, roguish eyes are teeming with mirth, and the quivering voice trying to be indignant-merely says, "O, Job! Job! Job!"

Job can stand it no longer. Who could? He turns and leaves it to his heels to extricate him as well as they can.

"I think, mother," said Barbara, as Job disappeared through the paddock-gate, and they returned together to the house, "I shall now do what I have often thought of— give Captain Wolcombe a hint. My life on it, Job has something in him, and, I do believe, would make a good soldier!"

"Well, Barbara, we have done our best, as our poor dear lady did before us, and failed. Job knows he can get over us, and needs, I suppose, rougher handling. But you'll never persuade Job to enlist. He is much too sly and knowing for that."

"Well, mother, we shall see. If one could but stir a bit of ambition in him

And so saying, they turned-met each other's gazeand both again began laughing as they moved away.

CHAPTER XVI.

JOB FINDS AN OBJECT.

It was a curious thing that Job, after his unsuccessful attempt at carpet beating, when smarting under the ignominy of exposure, and while endeavouring to restore his peace of mind, by sending widows and their daughters to all sorts of unmentionable places, should have suddenly taken it into his head to go himself towards the very last place where any one would then have expected to find him, the widow's cottage. It was still more curious to hear a low chuckle every now and then alternating with a deep heavy grunt, as though there were something even attractive in the prospect. Whatever it was, he did not need any co-operation in his intended enjoyment; and he looked back now and then, to be sure that no one was following or noticing him. But the most curious thing of all was that, when he had nearly reached the row of cottages, instead of taking the shortest way to the widow's, which happened to be at the farther end of the row, he took a winding route by the back through some garden ground, thus taking a deal of extra trouble, and for no arthly advantage, unless, indeed, it were that Job was rather ashamed of his proceedings, and modestly wished to keep out of the sight of his fellow men (and of their

wives), and so slipped into the widow's cottage at the back door, unnoticed.

He was some time before he came out again. But he looked radiant when he did come, though he glanced furtively about, as if less than ever courting observation. He then made towards some broken ground close by, where he could get out of sight in the hollow; and when he had reached the bottom he dropped down with a great bump and slide upon the sward, and said, with his usual self-satisfied chuckle,

"There wur a secret pocket; an' this wur in it." Job took out of his breast an old worn-looking letter or envelope, which seemed rather bulky with enclosures. "Let ma see if aw hae forgotten ma larning, Mester Sleigh." And Job began to spell the address letter by letter, the voice getting more emphatic as he progressed, until having mastered the component parts, he essayed the whole.

ma side now.

"Mester-Abel-Drake! Eigh, lasses, but laugh's o' Aw an't clever! Aw an't industrious! E-law-whatten a detective aw should hae made! There mun be summet wrung i' our social institootions. If thae wonna gie fair ploy to a mon's genius, how can he get on ?"

Job began to study the outside look of the letter.

"In a lass's hond; how owd and ragged it looks. Bin carried maybe mony a lung year. Happen soom o' his wife's letters inside. Eh? O, goodness gracious—it's brass! It's bank notes! Lots on em! Aw'm ruined! Aw'm all in a tremble. Stop! Yes, aw knaws what aw'll do; aw'll put it back again afore he tak's notice, and afore widow cooms hoame!"