He had just come in from his visit to Deerham Court, summoned thither by the slight accident to his sister Decima.

Leaning his two elbows on the counter, his pale, puffy cheeks on his hands, and intently watching Jan with his light eyes, was a young gentleman rising fifteen, with an apron tied round his waist.

This was Master Cheese; an apprentice, as Jan once had been.

In point of fact, the pounding now was Master Cheese's proper work, but he was fat and lazy, and as sure as Jan came into the surgery, so sure would young Cheese begin to grunt and groan, and vow that his arms were "knocked off" with the work.

Jan, in his indolent manner--and in motion and manner Jan appeared intensely indolent, as if there was no hurry in him; he would bring his words, too, out indolently--would lift the pounding machine aloft, sit himself down on the counter, and complete the work.
"I say," said young Cheese, watching the progress of the pestle with satisfaction, "Dame Dawson has been here." "What did she want ?" asked Jan.
"Bad in her inside, she says.