“But hearken to me,” pleaded Henchard.  “My business you know, is in corn and in hay, but I was brought up as a hay-trusser simply, and hay is what I understand best though I now do more in corn than in the other.  If you’ll accept the place, you shall manage the corn branch entirely, and receive a commission in addition to salary.”

“You’re liberal—­very liberal, but no, no—­I cannet!” the young man still replied, with some distress in his accents.

“So be it!” said Henchard conclusively.  “Now—­to change the subject—­one good turn deserves another; don’t stay to finish that miserable supper.  Come to my house, I can find something better for ’ee than cold ham and ale.”

Donald Farfrae was grateful—­said he feared he must decline—­that he wished to leave early next day.

“Very well,” said Henchard quickly, “please yourself.  But I tell you, young man, if this holds good for the bulk, as it has done for the sample, you have saved my credit, stranger though you be.  What shall I pay you for this knowledge?”

“Nothing at all, nothing at all.  It may not prove necessary to ye to use it often, and I don’t value it at all.  I thought I might just as well let ye know, as you were in a difficulty, and they were harrd upon ye.”

Henchard paused.  “I shan’t soon forget this,” he said.  “And from a stranger!...  I couldn’t believe you were not the man I had engaged!  Says I to myself, ‘He knows who I am, and recommends himself by this stroke.’  And yet it turns out, after all, that you are not the man who answered my advertisement, but a stranger!”

“Ay, ay; that’s so,” said the young man.

Henchard again suspended his words, and then his voice came thoughtfully:  “Your forehead, Farfrae, is something like my poor brother’s—­now dead and gone; and the nose, too, isn’t unlike his.  You must be, what—­five foot nine, I reckon?  I am six foot one and a half out of my shoes.  But what of that?  In my business, ’tis true that strength and bustle build up a firm.  But judgment and knowledge are what keep it established.  Unluckily, I am bad at science, Farfrae; bad at figures—­a rule o’ thumb sort of man.  You are just the reverse—­I can see that.  I have been looking for such as you these two year, and yet you are not for me.  Well, before I go, let me ask this:  Though you are not the young man I thought you were, what’s the difference?  Can’t ye stay just the same?  Have you really made up your mind about this American notion?  I won’t mince matters.  I feel you would be invaluable to me—­that needn’t be said—­and if you will bide and be my manager, I will make it worth your while.”

“My plans are fixed,” said the young man, in negative tones.  “I have formed a scheme, and so we need na say any more about it.  But will you not drink with me, sir?  I find this Casterbridge ale warreming to the stomach.”