"A pity there ain't more of the same way of thinking," said Mrs.
Northover. "And I say that, though a publican and the wife of a
publican; and so do you, don't you, Job?"

"Most steadfast," he replied. "When I took on barman as a profession, I
never lifted pot or glass again to my own lips, and have stood between
many a young man and the last half pint. I tell you this to your face,
Missis Northover. Not an hour ago I was at 'The Tiger,' to let Richard
Gurd know the stable was ready, and in the private bar there were six
young men, all drinking for the pleasure of drinking. If the younger
generation only lapped when 'twas thirsty, half the drinking-places
would shut, and there wouldn't be no more brewers in the peerage."

He shook his head and drank his tea.

Mrs. Northover changed the subject.

"How's the works?" she asked. "Do the people like the new master?"

"Just the same--same hours, same money--everything. And Mister Daniel's
brother, Mister Raymond's, come to it to learn the business. He is a
cure!"

"He's over there now," said Job, waving his hand in the direction of
'The Tiger.' "Drinking port wine he is with that young sport, Motyer,
and others like him. I don't like Motyer's face. He's a shifty chap, and
a thorn in his family's side by all accounts. But Mister Raymond have a
very open countenance and ought to have a good heart."

"What do you mean when you say he's a 'cure,' Sarah?" asked her aunt.