clan," said Henry. "He talks as familiarly of gold pieces as I would
of silver pennies, and yet I will be sworn that the thumb of his
mother's worsted glove might hold the treasure of the whole clan."

"Like enough," said the glover, laughing at the idea; "his mother
was a large boned woman, especially in the fingers and wrist."

"And as for cattle," continued Henry, "I reckon his father and
brothers steal sheep by one at a time."

"The less we say of them the better," said the glover, becoming
again grave. "Brothers he hath none; his father is a powerful man
--hath long hands--reaches as far as he can, and hears farther
than it is necessary to talk of him."

"And yet he hath bound his only son apprentice to a glover in
Perth?" said Henry. "Why, I should have thought the gentle craft,
as it is called, of St. Crispin would have suited him best; and
that, if the son of some great Mac or O was to become an artisan,
it could only be in the craft where princes set him the example."

This remark, though ironical, seemed to awaken our friend Simon's
sense of professional dignity, which was a prevailing feeling that
marked the manners of the artisans of the time.

"You err, son Henry," he replied, with much gravity: "the glovers'
are the more honourable craft of the two, in regard they provide
for the accommodation of the hands, whereas the shoemakers and
cordwainers do but work for the feet."