"You'll never get the dust out of that rug," he said at last, "here, give
it to me." She hesitated, then gave it him, and he beat it against the
brick wall. "There," he said, handing it back to her, "that's how I beats
a mat; you won't find much dust in it now."
"Thank you.... Sarah went by an hour and a half ago."
"Ah, she must have gone to the Gardens. You have never been to those
gardens, have you? Dancing-hall, theatre, sorcerers--every blessed thing.
But you're that religious, I suppose you wouldn't come?"
"It is only the way you are brought up."
"Well, will you come?"
"I don't think I should like those Gardens.... But I daresay they are no
worse than any other place. I've heard so much since I was here, that
really----"
"That really what?"
"That sometimes it seems useless like to be particular."
"Of course--all rot. Well, will you come next Sunday?"
"Certainly not on Sunday."
The Gaffer had engaged him as footman: his livery would be ready by
Saturday, and he would enter service on Monday week. This reminded them
that henceforth they would see each other every day, and, speaking of the
pain it would give his mother when he came running downstairs to go out
with the carriage, he said--
"It was always her idea that I shouldn't be a servant, but I believe in
doing what you gets most coin for doing.
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