“Hallo, young Grace,” said Mr Jabez Rowle, as I was shown up one evening into his room, to find him, snuff-box on the table and pen in hand, reading away at his paper, and, as I entered, smiling with satisfaction as he pounced upon a literal error, and marked it in the margin. “How are you?”

I said I was quite well, and he pointed to several pen marks at the side of the column.

“There’s reading,” he said contemptuously. “I’m ashamed of these daily papers, that I am. Well, how are wheels and lathes and steam-engines, eh? Bah! what a contemptible young sneak you were to leave so good a business for oil and steam and steel-filings. I give you up now. Glad to see you, though; sit down. Have a pinch or snuff?”

“No, thanks,” I said, smiling.

“Humph! how you grow, you young dog; why, you’ll soon be a man. Better have a pinch; capital bit of snuff.”

I shook my head, and he went on, smiling grimly at me the while.

“No business to have left me, Grace. I should have made a man of you. Well, how are you getting on?”

“Capitally,” I said.

“Don’t believe it. Better have stopped with me. Heard from Peter?”

“No,” I said eagerly. “Have you?”

“Yes. Just the same as usual. Down at Rowford still, smoking himself to death. Hah! capital pinch of snuff this,” he added, regaling himself again. “Sent his love to you, and said I was to tell you – tell you – where the dickens did I put that letter?” he continued, pulling a bundle of dip-proofs out of his breast-pocket, and hunting them over – “said I was to tell you – ah, here it is – to tell you – Ah – ‘Tell young Grace I shall come up to town and see him some day, and I’ll give you a look up too.’ Bah! Don’t want him: won’t have him. We should be sure to quarrel. He’d come here, and sit and smoke all day – where’s my – oh, here it is.”

He took a couple of pinches of snuff in a queer, excited way, and snapped his fingers loudly.

“I shall be very, very glad to see him when he does come,” I said warmly.

“Ah, yes, of course you will. He’s got some papers or something, he says, for you.”

“Has he?”

“So he says. Hang Peter! I don’t like him, somehow.”

There was a comical look of chagrin in the old man’s face as he spoke; but it was mingled with a dry, humorous air that refused to be concealed, and I seemed to feel in my heart that if the brothers met, Mr Jabez would be thoroughly cordial.

“Well, I’m glad you did condescend to call, young engine-driver,” he said at last; “as it happens, I’m not busy to-night. You won’t take a pinch of snuff?”

I shook my head.

“What will you have, then? Have some almonds and raisins? Figs? Some oranges? Well, some sweetstuff? They’ve got some capital cocoa-nut candy downstairs! No? Well, have some candied peel?”

“No, thank you, Mr Jabez,” I said, laughing. “Why, what a baby you do think me.”

“Well, so you are,” he growled. “You don’t want me to ask you to have beer, or grog, or cigars, do you?”

“Oh no!” I said, laughing.

“Good job, too, because you wouldn’t catch me giving them to you. Well, how’s your policeman?”

“Quite well.”

“Ever see Hallett now?”

“Every day nearly.”

“Humph! Decent fellow, Hallett; sorry he left us. Cleanest proofs I ever had. That man always read his stick, Grace. You always read yours?”

“But you forget I am not a printer now, Mr Jabez.”

“No, I don’t, stupid. Can’t you see I was speaking in metaphors? Always read your stick, boy, through life. When you’ve done a thing, go over it again to see if it’s right; and then, at the end, you’ll find your proof-sheets of life are not half so foul. Tell Hallett, when you see him again, to give me a look up. I rather liked him.”

“Why, you never seemed to like him, Mr Jabez,” I said.

“Well, what of that, boy? Can’t a man like anybody without always going about and grinning?”

He took another pinch of snuff, and then nodded and tapped his box.

“How’s Mr Grimstone?” I said, smiling.

“Oh, hard as a nut, and as awkward. Gives me a deal of trouble.”

“And is Jem Smith with you still?”

“With me? No; but he’s in a house close by, the great stupid lout! He’s got whiskers now, and grown more thick-headed than ever. Grimstone had a sharp illness, though, over that affair.”

“What affair?” I asked.

“Why, when the partnership was broken up – you know?”

“No,” I said, wonderingly.

“Why, you must have heard. When John Lister was bankrupt. He was dead in with the money-lenders, and he had to give up, you know.”

“What! was he ruined?”

“Ruined? yes, a gambling fool; and if Mr Ruddle hadn’t been pretty firm, the rascal would have ruined him too – pulled the house down.”

“This is news,” I said.

“Yes, and bad news, too,” said the old fellow. “Five hundred pounds of my savings went – lent money – for him to make ducks and drakes!”

“Oh, Mr Jabez,” I said: “I am very sorry.”

“Don’t deserve it,” he said, taking another pinch; “served me right for being such a fool. I don’t mind now; I never cry over spilt milk, but it nearly broke poor old Grim’s heart. Five hundred of his went, too, and it was very nearly being more.”

“I remember something about it,” I said. “You were speaking on the subject once before me.”

“Ah, so we were. Well, it was a warning to me, Grace. Temptation, you know.”

“Temptation?”

“Yes, to get bonus and high interest. Playing usurer, my boy. Serve us both right. Don’t you ever be led on to lending money on usury.”

“I’m not likely ever to have any to lend,” I said, laughing.

“I don’t know that,” he said, making another reference to his snuff-box. “Peter said in one of his letters that he thought there was some money that ought to come to you.”

“I’m afraid not,” I said, laughing. “I’ve a long debt to pay yet.”

“You! – you in debt, you young rascal!” he exclaimed angrily.

“I always said I would some day pay off my father’s debts, Mr Jabez,” I said; and then my words brought up such a flood of sad recollections, that I was about to eagerly change the subject, when Mr Jabez leaned over to me and took my hand.

“Good lad,” he said, shaking it up and down. “Good lad. I like that. I don’t believe you ever will pay them, you know; but I like the sound of it all the same.”

He kept on shaking my hand some time, and only left it to take another pinch of snuff.

“And has Mr Lister quite gone from the firm?”

“Oh, yes, quite, my lad. He was up to his eyes in debt, and when he didn’t marry that girl, and get her money to pay himself off clear, he went smash at once. Lucky escape for her. I’m afraid he was a bad one.”

“And what is he doing now?”

“What, Lister? Set up a rival shop on borrowed money; doing all he can to cut down his old partner, but he’ll do no good. Can’t get on. Hasn’t got a man on the premises who can read.”

“Indeed!” I said.

“Not a soul, Grace. Why, you wouldn’t believe it, my lad,” he continued, tapping me in the shirt-front with his snuff-box, “but I had one of their Chancery-bills in the other day – big quarto, you know, pica type – and there were two turned n’s for u’s in the second page.”

“Never?” I said, to humour him.

“Fact, sir, fact,” he said, taking another pinch of snuff and snapping his fingers triumphantly. “Why, I’d hardly forgive that in a daily paper where there’s a rush on, and it’s got up in the night; but in a thing like a Chancery-bill it’s inexcusable. Well, now about yourself, Grace. I’m glad you are getting on, boy. Never mind what I said; it’s better than being a reader, and growing into a snuffy cantankerous old scarecrow like me. Read your stick well, my boy, and I hope – no, I’m sure you’ll get on. But I say, what will you have to eat?”

“I’m not hungry, Mr Jabez,” I said; “and, look here, I haven’t delivered my message to you.”

“Message? To me?”

“Yes, sir. Miss Carr wished me to ask you if you would come and dine with her to-morrow.”

“Me? Dine with Miss Carr – Carr – Carr? Why, that’s the girl Lister was to have married.”

“Yes – Miss Carr,” I said.

“But me dine with her! Why, she hasn’t fallen in love with me now, has she?”

“Oh no,” I said, laughing. “She wants to see you on business.”

“See me on business? why, Grace,” he said excitedly, “I was to be paid my five hundred out of her money, and wasn’t paid. Is she repenting, and going to give it to me?”

“No,” I said; “I don’t think it’s that.”

“No, of course not,” he said thoughtfully. “Couldn’t take it if were. What does she want, then? Do you know?”

I nodded.

“What is it, then?”

“I am in Miss Carr’s confidence,” I said; “and I do not feel at liberty to speak about the matter till after you have seen her.”

“Let me see,” said the old man; “she’s very pretty, isn’t she?”

“Beautiful?” I exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Humph! Then I don’t think I shall go, Grace.”

“Not go? Why not?”

“These handsome women can wheedle a man out of anything. I’ve lost five hundred over Lister, and I don’t want to be wheedled out of any more.”

“You needn’t be afraid, Mr Jabez,” I said, laughing.

“Think not?”

“I’m sure not. Miss Carr wants to advance some money to help some one.”

“Well, then, let her do it.”

“She cannot well do it herself, and she asked me if I knew anyone, and I named you.”

“Hang your impudence, then,” he said, taking snuff fiercely. “You know I was fool enough to advance money to Lister, so you recommend me as an easy one to do it again.”

“No, no, Mr Jabez; you don’t understand me,” I said, laughing. “Miss Carr wishes to find the money, but she wants it to seem as if it came through you.”

“Oh!”

Here he refreshed himself with his snuff, looking at me suspiciously the while.

“Look here, young Grace,” he said; “I’m not fond of doing things in the dark; so, as we are old friends, suppose you make a clean breast of what all this means. You know, I suppose?”

“Yes, I know everything,” I replied.

“Well, then, out with it.”

“That I cannot do without being guilty of a breach of confidence, Mr Rowle,” I replied. “If you will come up to Miss Carr’s to-morrow evening at half-past six, you may be sure of a warm welcome, and I shall be there to meet you.”

“Phee-ew!” he whistled, “how fine we have got to be, Grace. Do we dine late every day, sir?”

“No; nonsense,” I said, laughing. “Miss Carr is very kind to me, though: and she wished me to be there to meet you.”

“Well, but, Grace, you know,” said the old man, “I’m such a queer, rough sort of a fellow. I’m not used to that sort of thing. I’ve read about it often enough; but I suppose – oh, you know, I couldn’t come?”

“I shall tell Miss Carr you will,” I said, rising; and after a few more words, the old man promised, and I went away.

Chapter Forty Nine.
Mr Jabez Undertakes a Commission

Mr Jabez was got up wonderfully for his visit to Miss Carr. His white waistcoat might have been carved in marble, and his white cravat was the stiffest ever made; but there was a good deal of the natural gentleman in the old man, and he took Miss Carr down to dinner with all the ceremony of the old school.

Everything was expressly arranged to be very simple, and in a very few minutes Mr Jabez was quite at his ease, while after a glass of sherry the old man became pleasantly chatty, and full of anecdote, but always treating his hostess with the most chivalrous respect, making a point of rising to open the door for her when she quitted the room, and we were supposed to be left to our wine.

“Hah, Grace,” he said, coming back to the table, and taking a long pinch of snuff; “now I feel a man again. I’ll just have three more pinches, and then we’ll go upstairs to that angel. Good heavens!”

“What is the matter?” I said, as, instead of sitting down, he began to walk up and down the dining-room, taking pinch after pinch of snuff.

“Good heavens!” he exclaimed again.

“Is anything the matter, Mr Jabez?” I exclaimed.

“Good heavens! I say, Good heavens!” he repeated.

“What do you mean?” I said.

“Good heavens! Only to think of it, Grace!”

Another pinch of snuff.

“Only to think, my lad, that he might have had that woman – that lady! A girl as beautiful in her mind as she is in her face. Why, Grace, my boy, I’m an old snuffy bachelor because my opportunity never came, but if I could have married such a woman as that – Hah! some men are born to be fools!”

“And you think Mr Lister was a fool?”

“Fool, sir? He was ten thousand times worse. But there! the sun don’t shine on me every day, my boy! We’ll go upstairs at once, and let it shine upon me again.”

I never liked Mr Jabez one-half so well before. It was delightful to me, who quite worshipped Miss Carr, to see the old man’s genuine admiration. He seemed quite transformed, and looked younger. In fact, no sooner were we upstairs, where Miss Carr was sitting with the urn singing on the tea-table, than he relieved me of a difficulty by opening the question of business himself.

“My dear young lady,” he said, as he sat down, and began rubbing one thin little leg, “I know you’ll excuse me for speaking so familiarly, but,” – he smiled – “I’m over sixty, and I should think you are not more than twenty-five.”

Miss Carr smiled, and he went on.

“Our young friend Grace here tells me that you would like me to perform a little commission for you. I only wish to say that you may command me in any way, and to the best of my ability the work shall be done.”

“Thank you, Mr Rowle,” said our hostess. “Antony Grace said he felt sure I could not have a more suitable and trustworthy agent.”

“I thank Antony Grace,” said the old man, bowing to me ceremoniously, and taking out his snuff-box, which he hastily replaced.

“The fact is,” said Miss Carr, hesitating, and her voice trembled and her face flushed slightly as she spoke, “I – oh, I will be plain,” she said, as if determined to cast off all false shame; “Mr Rowle, I trust to you not to put a false construction on this act of mine. I am rich – I am my own mistress, and I will do as I please, whatever the world may say.”

“You are rich, you are your own mistress, and you have a right to do as you please, my dear young lady, whatever the world may say,” assented Mr Jabez, tapping the lid of his snuff-box, which seemed as if it would not keep out of his hand.

“The fact is, Mr Rowle,” continued Miss Carr, “there is a gentleman – a friend of Antony Grace here, who is struggling to perfect a new invention – a great invention.”

Mr Jabez bowed, gazing at her animated countenance with open admiration the while.

“To perfect this invention, money is wanted.”

“Exactly,” said Mr Jabez, tapping his box softly. “Money is always useful.”

“I wish this gentleman to have that money – as much as is necessary.”

“You are rich; you are your own mistress; you have a right to do as you please, my dear young lady, whatever the world may say,” said Mr Jabez, harping upon her words once more. “It is easily settled. Give it him.”

“No,” said Miss Carr, speaking with animation, “it is not easy. You forget what I say. This inventor is a gentleman.”

“And would be too proud to take the money?” said Mr Jabez quickly.

“Yes,” said Miss Carr. “He would not stoop to be under such an obligation. He would feel insulted – that he was lowering himself. I wish to help him,” she said excitedly. “I would do anything to help him; but my hands are tied.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Mr Jabez softly; “and you want me to help you?”

“Yes, oh yes! And you will?” cried Miss Carr.

“Of course I will, my dear young lady,” said the old man; “but this requires thought. Would you excuse me if I took just one little pinch?”

“Oh, my dear Mr Rowle,” cried Miss Carr, “pray do not use ceremony here. I asked you to come to me as a friend. Pray consider that you are one.”

“Hah!” sighed Mr Jabez. “Now I can get on. Well, my dear young lady, surely we can find a way. In the first place, who is the gentleman?”

Miss Carr looked at me.

“Mr Hallett,” I said, coming to her help.

“What? Our Mr Hallett?” said Mr Jabez.

“Yes, Mr Rowle.”

“Hum! Well, I’m not surprised,” he said. “He certainly always did seem to be a gentleman, and I was very sorry that he left our place. So he is working on a great invention, eh? Well, he is just the man who would. Then, the first thing is, how is it to be done?”

“Antony Grace thinks, Mr Rowle, that as you have the reputation of being a wealthy man – ”

“Wealthy! why I lost five hundred pounds slap the other day by – Dear me! Bless my soul! Oh, tut – tut – tut! What an ass I am!” he muttered, taking refuge in a tremendous pinch of snuff, half of which powdered his white waistcoat and cravat.

“I am very sorry to hear that,” said Miss Carr quietly.

“Oh, it was nothing. Pray go on, my dear young lady.”

“Antony Grace thought that you might seek him out, and get into his confidence a little, and at last, after a show of interest in his work, ask him to let you become a sharer in the affair, on condition of your finding the necessary funds.”

“Of your money?” said the old man, with a slight show of suspicion.

“Of course, Mr Rowle. Then, if he would consent, which he might do, thinking that he was favouring you, the matter would be settled.”

“To be sure. Of course,” said Mr Jabez thoughtfully. “And how far would you go, my dear young lady – forty or fifty pounds?”

“As far as was necessary, Mr Rowle. As many hundreds as he required.”

Mr Jabez tapped his box, and sat thinking, gazing wonderingly and full of admiration at the animated countenance before him, as he softly bowed his head up and down.

“And you will do this for me, Mr Rowle?” she said.

“If you will trust me, Miss Carr, I will be your steward in this matter,” he said quietly.

“And keep my secret? He must not know.”

“I will be as silent as the grave, my dear, and I thank you for placing so much confidence in me.”

A few preliminaries and the thing was settled. Then, after tea, Miss Carr sang to the old man a couple of old-fashioned ballads, and he left soon after, I walking home with him, after arranging that I was to take him to Great Ormond Street the following evening, as if after a casual meeting and a desire to see Hallett again. The rest was to be left to chance.

The old man was very quiet and thoughtful, but I noticed that our leave-taking was a great deal warmer than it had ever been before, and I went back to my lodgings hopeful and eager, feeling that the sun was about to shine at last upon poor Hallett’s venture, respecting which I, with him, would not own now that there could be such a thing as failure.

Chapter Fifty.
Mr Rowle Begins his Task

Poor Mrs Hallett was, no doubt, a great sufferer; and as I grow older and knew her better, the annoyance I used to feel at her unreasonable ways dropped aside to make room for pity.

One thing always struck me, and that was, that though she was constantly murmuring about Stephen’s wasting time over his schemes, and the wretched way in which he was constantly plodding on, instead of ambitiously trying to rise to some profession, it was dangerous for anyone else to speak of such a thing.

At the appointed time I called upon Mr Jabez, and he accompanied me to Great Ormond Street, looking brighter and younger than I had ever seen him look before. His snuff-box was in constant use, and he on the way, after vainly trying to stand treat, as he called it, by stopping at the various grocers’ windows, and wanting to buy me a box of candied fruits or French plums, went on tatting about Miss Carr.

“Antony Grace,” he exclaimed; “that fellow will wake up some day.”

“What fellow?”

“Lister. The fool! the idiot! the ass! Why, an earthly heaven was open to him, and he turned his back upon it. There’s a life of repentance for him.”

“I can’t understand it,” I said.

“Humph! No,” he continued; and he kept glancing at me curiously, as if eager to say something – to ask me some question; but he refrained.

“I’m glad you liked Miss Carr,” I said at last.

“Liked her, boy?” he exclaimed enthusiastically; and he stopped in the centre of the pavement. “There, I suppose I’m growing into an old fool, but that’s no business of anybody. That young lady, sir, can command Jabez Rowle from this moment. Here, come along; the people are looking at you.”

I thought they were looking at Mr Jabez, but I said nothing, only kept step with him, as he thrust his arm through mine and hurried me on.

“Of course, what I say to you is in confidence, Antony Grace,” he continued.

“Of course,” I replied warmly; “and let me beg of you, Mr Rowle, to be very careful. Pray don’t let Hallett have any suspicion of how your interest has come about; and, above all, he must not think that I have talked to you about his model.”

“Hold your tongue, tomtit,” he exclaimed merrily, “trying to teach a croaking old raven, getting on towards a hundred. You leave it to me. But look here, boy, I’m not blind. This is all in confidence, of course. I can see as far into a mill-stone as most, people. Have Hallett and Miss – Bah, what am I saying?” he muttered, checking himself suddenly. “It’s all in confidence, and I shall be as close as an oyster. I’ve got my part by heart, and you shall see what you shall see.”

He gave my arm a tight nip, and soon after we reached the door, which I opened with my latchkey, and took him into my rooms, with which the old man seemed much pleased.

“Why, you reckless young hypocrite, this is the way you live, is it? Books, eh? And what are these wheels for?” he continued, picking up a couple from the chimney-piece.

“The model,” I said quietly. “Now, what shall we do? Ask Hallett to come down here, or go up?”

“Send up word that you have an old friend with you, and ask if you may bring him up.”

I took the hint, and Mary came back in a few minutes to say that Mr Hallett would be only too glad to see us.

We went up, and I saw at once that Hallett had come down from the attic. Mrs Hallett was asleep, and Linny, looking very pale and thin, but still restful and better, was in an easy-chair with a book.

“Ah, Hallett, how do?” said the old gentleman, in his abrupt way. “Your servant, ma’am,” he added, with a profound bow.

Hallett looked stern and displeased, and his greeting was cold.

“My sister, Mr Rowle,” he said. “She has been ill.”

“So I see,” he replied. “I hope you are getting better, my dear child. You must take plenty of fresh air. I came to see my young friend, Antony Grace here, and he suggested that as we were under the same roof, I should come and see you. Sorry you ever left us, Mr Hallett.”

Hallett bowed.

“Ah,” he continued, taking the chair coldly offered, “lots of changes since. I suppose you know the partnership’s dissolved?”

“Yes, I had heard so,” replied Hallett, glancing uneasily at Linny.

“I stick on with the senior branch,” the old man continued, as his eyes wandered about the room, for he was evidently at a loss, and I did not know how to help him, so crossed over to sit down by and talk to Linny.

But fate favoured us, for in his hurried descent Hallett had brought with him a portion of the mechanism of the model.

“Hullo!” exclaimed Mr Jabez sharply; “what have you got there? Have you, too, turned engineer?”

“Oh, no,” said Hallett, who was annoyed. “I – that is – it is a portion of a little contrivance of mine.”

“Oho!” exclaimed Mr Jabez, “I’ve found you out, have I, Master Hallett! Why, you were always making sketches of machinery at the office.”

“How do you know that?” said Hallett sharply, while my heart sank, for I felt that our attempt would be a failure.

“Old Grim told me. That young scoundrel, Jem Smith, used to carry him scraps of paper upon which you had been drawing.”

Hallett’s brow grew more cloudy, but he brightened up directly, saying frankly:

“Well, yes, Mr Rowle, I am engaged upon a little invention.”

“That’s right,” said the old man warmly; “that’s right; I wish I had begun something of the kind when I was young. It takes the mind away from the daily mill-horse work. But somehow, Hallett, I never could drag my mind away from it, but used to amuse myself reading proofs at home. Grace,” he continued, turning to me, “why don’t you take to something? You being an engineer, now, you ought to do something, say, in our line. There’s plenty of chances there. I know one man,” he said, taking up his thin leg and nursing it, “who has been trying for years to perfect a machine.”

“Oh, Mr Jabez,” I thought, “you have spoiled all!” for Hallett darted a quick glance at me.

“The idea occurred to him,” continued Mr Jabez, tapping his snuff-box thoughtfully, as if it contained the machine, “that he could make a contrivance that would do away with the necessity for setting type.”

“Indeed?” said Hallett, who drew a long breath of relief.

“Yes, sir,” said Mr Jabez; “his idea was to get the type set up in long pipes above a keyboard, like a piano, and every time a key was touched with the finger, it pushed out a letter, which ran down an inclined plane to an opening, where a tiny hammer gave it a tap and drove it along a channel in which the letters formed one long line, which was afterwards made into pages and justified.”

“And did it answer?” said Hallett eagerly.

“No,” said the old man, taking a pinch of snuff, as Linny and I now listened to him attentively. “The idea was clever, but it was too crude. He set up his stick full, Antony Grace, and neglected to read it afterwards. He failed at first.”

“But you said it was a good idea, Mr Jabez,” I exclaimed.

“A capital idea,” said the old man, “but it was full of faults.”

“Faults?” said Hallett dreamily.

“Yes, sir,” said the old man, growing animated. “For instance, he would only have been able to set one kind of type – one size. He couldn’t use italic. He wanted a clever, sensible woman or man to work the keys, another to make the type up into lines. And he was obliged to have a boy to work the little hammer, or beater, to drive the letters along. Then the type would get stuck if the letters were not sent down exactly to the time; for two would meet in a lane, and then there was no end of confusion, and, after all, the type had to be distributed, and afterwards set up in sticks to fill the machine.”

“Exactly,” said Hallett, with animation, for the ice was broken. “I had thought of something similar.”

“But you did not do it.”

“No; oh no! Composition always seemed to me to require the mind of man – the brain to guide it. It seemed to me that invention should be applied to something of a more mechanical nature.”

“Exactly,” said Mr Jabez. “You couldn’t make a machine to read and correct proofs, or revise a slip.”

“Of course not,” said Hallett.

“Of course not,” said Mr Jabez. “But, mind you, I’m not one of those idiots who rise up in arms against machinery, and I don’t say but what our friend might not have gone on and greatly improved his machine. For instance, he might have contrived another, to do away with the distribution and re-setting up of the type.”

“Yes,” said Hallett thoughtfully; “it might have been recast and replaced by mechanism.”

“And always have new type,” said Mr Jabez eagerly. “To be sure: a capital idea; but I don’t know, Hallett, I don’t know. They say you can buy gold too dearly. In the same way, you can make a time-saving process too expensive.”

“Certainly,” said Hallett thoughtfully; and I was glad to see now that he was pleased to meet the old man.

“It seems to me,” said Mr Jabez, passing his snuff-box, which Hallett received, and, to humour his visitor, partook of a pinch, “that an inventor ought to devote his attention to making machinery for doing away with a great deal more of our labouring mechanical work, and not the careful processes that require thought.”

“Printing, for instance?”

“Ye-es,” said Mr Jabez; “but that ground has been pretty well taken up. We have some good machines now, that do a lot of work by steam. Why, when I was a boy we used to have the clumsiest old presses possible to conceive. I don’t think they had been much improved since the days of Caxton.”

“And yet there is great room for improvement,” cried Hallett, with animation. “Mr Rowle, we saw very little of each other beyond business encounters, but I believe, sir, that I may place trust in your word?”

“Thank you, Mr Hallett, I hope so. I’m sure I always placed confidence in yours. I am proud to say, Miss Hallett, that if your brother promised me a slip by a certain time, my mind was always easy, for I knew it would be done.”

“Oh, nonsense, nonsense,” said Hallett, smiling. “Look here, Mr Rowle, I feel that you will not betray my confidence, and I ask you as a favour to keep private what you see here to-night.”

“What I see here?” said Mr Jabez, looking around with an assumed look of puzzle, while I felt the colour coming in my face as I thought of the part I was playing.

“I mean what I am about to show you, Mr Rowle,” said Hallett, smiling.

“Trust me? Oh yes, of course, yes – of course,” said the old man warmly; “here is my hand.”

“Thank you,” said Hallett, taking it. “Linny, my dear, you will not mind being left alone?”

“Oh no,” she said, smiling; and lighting another lamp, Hallett led the way up to the attic, Mr Jabez finding an opportunity to give me a solemn wink before we stood by Hallett’s bench.

“I have spent so much thought and labour over this model,” said Hallett, “that, you must not be surprised at the jealousy with which I watch it.”

“Oh no,” said Mr Jabez, who proceeded, snuff-box in hand, to examine carefully every point in the invention.

“Well,” said Hallett, at last, “do you think it will answer?”

In place of replying, Mr Jabez went all over it again, his interest growing fast, and being, I was glad to see, evidently sincere.

“I tell you what,” he exclaimed at last, taking a tremendous pinch of snuff, “that thing would be splendid if you got it right.”

“You like it, then?” said Hallett.

“Like it? I think it’s grand. Why, man, it would make quite a revolution in the news business. You must get on – get it perfect.”

Mr Hallett shook his head.

“It takes time and money,” he said sadly. “It is slow work.”

“Yes, but – hang it all, sir! you should get help. With such an important thing in hand you should work on.”

“I do not know yet that it would answer,” said Hallett sadly.

“But it must answer, sir,” said the old man sharply. “If that machine did not answer, it would not be the fault or the principle, but of some blunder in the mechanism.”