"Have you though?" said Joe. "Astonishing!"

"It's a pity now, Joe," said I, "that you did not get on a little

more, when we had our lessons here; isn't it?"

"Well, I don't know," returned Joe. "I'm so awful dull. I'm only

master of my own trade. It were always a pity as I was so awful

dull; but it's no more of a pity now, than it was - this day

twelvemonth - don't you see?"

What I had meant was, that when I came into my property and was

able to do something for Joe, it would have been much more

agreeable if he had been better qualified for a rise in station. He

was so perfectly innocent of my meaning, however, that I thought I

would mention it to Biddy in preference.

So, when we had walked home and had had tea, I took Biddy into our

little garden by the side of the lane, and, after throwing out in a

general way for the elevation of her spirits, that I should never

forget her, said I had a favour to ask of her.

"And it is, Biddy," said I, "that you will not omit any opportunity

of helping Joe on, a little."

"How helping him on?" asked Biddy, with a steady sort of glance.

"Well! Joe is a dear good fellow - in fact, I think he is the

dearest fellow that ever lived - but he is rather backward in some

things. For instance, Biddy, in his learning and his manners."

Although I was looking at Biddy as I spoke, and although she opened

her eyes very wide when I had spoken, she did not look at me.

"Oh, his manners! won't his manners do, then?" asked Biddy,

plucking a black-currant leaf.

"My dear Biddy, they do very well here--"

"Oh! they do very well here?" interrupted Biddy, looking closely at

the leaf in her hand.

"Hear me out - but if I were to remove Joe into a higher sphere, as

I shall hope to remove him when I fully come into my property, they

would hardly do him justice."

"And don't you think he knows that?" asked Biddy.

It was such a very provoking question (for it had never in the most

distant manner occurred to me), that I said, snappishly, "Biddy,

what do you mean?"

Biddy having rubbed the leaf to pieces between her hands - and the

smell of a black-currant bush has ever since recalled to me that

evening in the little garden by the side of the lane - said, "Have

you never considered that he may be proud?"

"Proud?" I repeated, with disdainful emphasis.

"Oh! there are many kinds of pride," said Biddy, looking full at me

and shaking her head; "pride is not all of one kind--"

"Well? What are you stopping for?" said I.

"Not all of one kind," resumed Biddy. "He may be too proud to let

any one take him out of a place that he is competent to fill, and

fills well and with respect. To tell you the truth, I think he is:

though it sounds bold in me to say so, for you must know him far

better than I do."

"Now, Biddy," said I, "I am very sorry to see this in you. I did

not expect to see this in you. You are envious, Biddy, and

grudging. You are dissatisfied on account of my rise in fortune,

and you can't help showing it."

"If you have the heart to think so," returned Biddy, "say so. Say

so over and over again, if you have the heart to think so."

"If you have the heart to be so, you mean, Biddy," said I, in a

virtuous and superior tone; "don't put it off upon me. I am very

sorry to see it, and it's a - it's a bad side of human nature. I

did intend to ask you to use any little opportunities you might

have after I was gone, of improving dear Joe. But after this, I ask

you nothing. I am extremely sorry to see this in you, Biddy," I

repeated. "It's a - it's a bad side of human nature."

"Whether you scold me or approve of me," returned poor Biddy, "you

may equally depend upon my trying to do all that lies in my power,

here, at all times. And whatever opinion you take away of me, shall

make no difference in my remembrance of you. Yet a gentleman should

not be unjust neither," said Biddy, turning away her head.