TOMMY IN BUTTONS.
Tommy was invited in, and given a seat. He related his adventures, but
owing to a whisper from Wild Charley, did not say anything about the
smuggling. They all listened to him with great attention, and admitted
that his coming to Mr. Floyd's was very remarkable.
"My young friend," exclaimed Rev. C. Floyd, "your wanderings serve
to show that there is a higher power which watches over the most
insignificant of us. I will turn no houseless wanderer from my door;
nay, I will even offer you employment."
"How can I thank you, sir?" said Tommy, his eyes overflowing with tears.
"By diligence and civility. We have a lad named Bobsey, who cleans
the boots and shoes, sees to the fires, brushes the young gentlemen's
clothes, and answers the bell, as well as waits at table."
"I'll do that."
"Bobsey is about to leave us. You shall take his place, receive your
board and lodging, and half a crown a month. I think, my dear, that
Bobsey's livery will fit our young friend."
"Yes; they're about the same size," answered Mrs. Floyd, to whom this
remark was addressed.
"Then we will relegate him to the regions below; for though he has
traveled with our Charley, their intimacy must cease, and Tommy be
taught at the start that we can allow no communication between him and
our young gentlemen."
At this, the young gentlemen in question, who were inclined to be
priggish and high-toned, turned up their noses and appeared to regard
Tommy as one very much beneath them.
"Boy," exclaimed Mrs. Floyd, "go downstairs, and the cook will give you
your supper. For to-night you will sleep with Bobsey."
"Thank you, ma'am," replied Tommy.
She conducted him to the top of the kitchen stair, and called down to
the cook, saying:
"Susan, this is the new page boy."
"All right, ma'am," answered the cook from the depths below.
Tommy went down and entered a large kitchen in which burned a bright
fire. The cook, a good-natured looking woman, sat on one side, and on
the other, perched upon a stool, was a lad of sixteen, though his face
was old enough to make one think he was twice that age.
"Bobsey," said the cook, "missis says this is the new page boy."
"I knows it," replied Bobsey, with a cheerful air. "Cos vy, I vos
a-listenin' at the door all the time they vos a-talkin', and it don't
break my 'art. Look at me! Ven I come 'ere I vos fat, now I is that
thin my mother thinks of chalkin' my 'ed and lettin' me hout as a
billiard cue."
"I'm sure, Bobsey, you 'as plenty to heat and to drink," answered the
cook, with a reproachful glance.
"It isn't you I's complaining of, cooky," rejoined Bobsey; "it's the
vork. If a cove vants to go for to commit suicide vell, hall he 'as to
do is to take a place in a academy for young gentlemen. Sit down, my
noble swell from furrin' parts; we hain't a-goin' to heat you, and I
don't bear no malice agin' anyone."
Tommy took a seat between the two.
There was a ring at the bell.
"Vot is that bell a-ringing for?" said Bobsey. "They've got a scuttle
of coal in the schoolroom; ditto in the parlor; the young gentlemen
'as 'ad their supper, and the ole woman has got some 'ot water for her
nightcap."
"What does she want hot water for her nightcap for?" asked Tommy.
"She takes a little gin 'ot before she goes to bed."
"Shall I answer the bell?"
"If you don't, I shan't," replied Bobsey; "as you're engaged, I may
consider myself on leave of habsence--eh, cooky?"
"Of course," replied Susan. "Servants have their rights, and who'd
blame you, Bobsey?"
"You hadmire my spirit, cooky?"
"Indeed I do."
Bobsey got up and removed a coat he wore, made of blue cloth and
ornamented in the front with bright silver-colored buttons.
"Take the badge of servitude!" he exclaimed. "I discard it. Cos vy? Not
cos I'm sacked, but I've got a hindependent spirit which vill never be
satisfied till the earth of this country runs red with the blood of the
haristocrats."
Susan regarded Bobsey with admiration not unmixed with awe.
"Don't he talk beautiful?" she said.
"Yes," answered Tommy.
"'Ow is it in the Hunited States?" inquired Bobsey.
"Very much the same as it is here," replied Tommy; "we've all got to
work."
"Hain't you hall masters and no servants?"
"Not exactly. One man considers himself as good as another, but's a
mighty hard place for working and finding your level."
The bell rang again.
"Put on the badge," said Bobsey. "I'll take it heasy."
With some difficulty Tommy got into the coat, which was several sizes
too small for him, and only by dint of holding his breath could he get
the buttons to go into the holes prepared for them.
He felt that if he was compelled to undergo any unusual exertion, the
buttons would fly off like bullets from a rifle when the trigger falls.
"Shall I do?" he asked.
"First-rate," replied Bobsey. "You looks a A No. 1 Buttons, and no
mistake."
Tommy hastened upstairs to answer the ringing of the bell, which
summoned him to the parlor where Mr. and Mrs. Floyd were seated,
the young gentlemen being in the schoolroom indulging in half an
hour's conversational recreation before prayers, which preceded their
retirement to their dormitories.
Entering the parlor, he inquired:
"Did you ring, sir?"
"Ah--h'm," replied the Rev. C. Floyd. "This is very good. He'll do, my
dear; I think, though, the coat is a little tight for him. Yes, I did
ring. You are putting too much coal on the fire downstairs. It makes
our chimney smoke."
"I wish he could stop our chimney; the nasty thing chokes me," remarked
Mrs. Floyd.
"I'll see what can be done," answered Tommy.
He went into the kitchen again, but missed a step on the stairs and
fell in a heap at the bottom, but without hurting himself.
"Vot's that?" cried Bobsey, coming out.
"I missed my pitch," replied Tommy. "Blame these stairs!"
"No bones broke, eh? and no damage done?"
"Oh, no."
"That's good. Yes, there is, though--you've busted some buttons. I
knowed as 'ow you'd bust yer buttons."
Tommy looked at what Bobsey called the "badge," and saw that several
buttons were missing.
"They'll have to buy you a new one," said Bobsey, consolingly. "Vell,
vot did the old duffer want?"
"His chimney smokes, and they want me to stop it."
Bobsey's eyes twinkled with a delight he could not conceal.
"Oh," he said, "that's an old dodge. Did he tell you what to do?"
"No."
"He left it to me, I suppose. I always had to do it."
"What?"
"You've got to take the hall doormat and get up to the top of the
house; there's a trapdoor at the top--get out of that, and put the
doormat on the top of the chimney. I'll show you."
"Is that what he calls stopping the chimney?"
"If that won't do it, I want to know what will," replied Bobsey.
"That settles it," said Tommy. "I want to do all I can to please them,
as they were kind enough to take me in out of the snow."
"Of course; you're tender hearted. Come along."
Tommy followed Bobsey, who pointed to a heavy mat in the hall, which
Tommy slung over his shoulder, and they proceeded to the top of the
house, where a step-ladder gave egress to the roof through a trapdoor,
which was easily opened.
The chimney was close to the trap, and without any great exertion
Tommy managed to place the mat over it, precluding the possibility of
any smoke escaping.
When this was done, Bobsey hurried him downstairs again into the
kitchen.
"I don't want any gratitude," he remarked, "for putting you up to
things and making you know the ways of the 'ouse."
"I'm a thousand times obliged to you," replied Tommy, "for keeping me
posted."
"I may help you a hundred different ways, but never you tell anyone who
it was done it."
"Not I. What do you take me for?" said Tommy. "I'm no slouch."
The bell of the parlor began to ring again furiously, and Tommy
prepared to answer it.
"The old duffer wants to thank you," remarked Bobsey. "If he hoffers to
make you a present of 'alf a crown, don't you say no."