I was perfectly happy with spare fragments, cutting out miniature saddles and straps, stamping lines, punching holes, and mislaying the good saddler's tools in these efforts; whilst my thoughts were occupied with many a childish plan for inducing my father to apprentice me to the worthy Mr.Buckle.
I was a good deal taken with Mr.Buckle's apprentice, a rosy-cheeked young man, whose dress and manners I endeavoured as much as possible to imitate.

I strutted in imitation of his style of walking down the High Street, and about this time Nurse Bundle was wont to say she "couldn't think what had come to" my hat, that it was "always stuck on one side." Pondering the history of Dick Whittington and the fair Alice, I said one day to Jemima Buckle, "I suppose you and Andrew will marry, and when Mr.Buckle dies you will have the shop ?" "Me marry the 'prentice!" said Miss Jemima.

And I discovered how little I knew of the shades of "caste" in Oakford.
Jemima used often to take me out when Nurse Bundle was otherwise engaged, and we were always very good friends.

One day, I remember, she was going to a shop about half way up the High Street, and I obtained leave to go with her.

Mrs.Bundle was busy superintending the cooking of some special delicacy for her "young gentleman's" dinner, and Jemima and I set forth on our errand.