The day of weighing out pepper and salt was over; never again
would the tinny jangle of the accursed bell smite his ears. The next
thing was that Hempel packed his chattels and departed for his new walk
in life. Mahony was not sorry to see him go. Hempel's thoughts had
soared far above the counter; he was arrived at the stage of: "I'm just
as good as you!" which everyone here reached sooner or later.
"I shall always be pleased to hear how you are getting on."
Mahony spoke kindly, but in a tone which, as Polly who stood by, very
well knew, people were apt to misunderstand.
"I should think so!" she chimed in. "I shall feel very hurt indeed,
Hempel, if you don't come and see us."
With regard to Long Jim, she had a talk with her husband one night as
they went to bed.
"There really won't be anything for him to do in the new house. No heavy
crates or barrels to move about. And he doesn't know a thing about
horses. Why not let him go home?--he does so want to. What would you
say, dear, to giving him thirty pounds for his passage-money and a
trifle in his pocket? It would make him very happy, and he'd be off your
hands for good.--Of course, though, just as you think best."
"We shall need every penny we can scrape together, for ourselves, Polly.
And yet, my dear, I believe you're right. In the new house, as you say,
he'll be a mere encumbrance. As for me, I'd be only too thankful never
to hear his cantankerous old pipe again.
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