"An it please your honour," said Hawkins, "you have been a very good
master to me, and I will tell you the whole truth. I hope you will na be
angry. This lad is my favourite, my comfort, and the stay of my age."

"Well, and what then? Is that a reason you should hinder his
preferment?"

"Nay, pray your honour, hear me. I may be very weak for aught I know in
this case, but I cannot help it. My father was a clergyman. We have all
of us lived in a creditable way; and I cannot bear to think that this
poor lad of mine should go to service. For my part, I do not see any
good that comes by servants. I do not know, your honour, but, I think, I
should not like my Leonard to be such as they. God forgive me, if I
wrong them! But this is a very dear case, and I cannot bear to risk my
poor boy's welfare, when I can so easily, if you please, keep him out or
harm's way. At present he is sober and industrious, and, without being
pert or surly, knows what is due to him. I know, your honour, that it is
main foolish of me to talk to you thus; but your honour has been a good
master to me, and I cannot bear to tell you a lie."

Mr. Tyrrel had heard the whole of this harangue in silence, because he
was too much astonished to open his mouth. If a thunderbolt had fallen
at his feet, he could not have testified greater surprise. He had
thought that Hawkins was so foolishly fond of his son, that he could not
bear to trust him out of his presence; but had never in the slightest
degree suspected what he now found to be the truth.

"Oh, ho, you are a gentleman, are you? A pretty gentleman truly! your
father was a clergyman! Your family is too good to enter into my
service! Why you impudent rascal! was it for this that I took you up,