David Rowe had been a week in London engaged in the search for Owen's
relatives. At last a letter came from him, desiring that the trap might
be sent over to Reston, as he would be down, God willing, by the coach
that day.
His arrival was eagerly looked for by all at Fenside Farm. David's
laconic letter had not mentioned anything to satisfy their curiosity.
"Well, lad, what news?" exclaimed the farmer, as David stood while his
mother and sister Sarah assisted him off with his great-coat. "Have you
found out friends likely to help young Owen?"
"As to that I cannot exactly say," answered David; "I have discovered a
relative who ought to help him--the identical Simon Fluke who gave the
book to Susan Walford. Simon Fluke must be the boy's cousin, although
removed a couple of degrees; but that should make no difference if Simon
had any affection for his cousin, for the boy is certainly her only
surviving descendant."
"But have you had any communication with Simon Fluke?" inquired the
farmer.
"No, I thought that would be imprudent; it would be politic to let the
boy introduce himself. I made all inquiries in my power, however, and
ascertained that Simon Fluke is a bachelor, reputed to be rich, and has
a flourishing business as a ship's chandler. As to his character, all I
can learn is, that he is looked upon as a man of honour and credit in
his business, although of somewhat eccentric habits. In regard to his
private character I could gain no information; he may be as hard-hearted
as a rock, or kind and generous. I went to his place of business in the
hopes of having the opportunity of forming an opinion for myself, but I
failed to see him, and therefore had to come away as wise as I went."
"What step do you advise us to take next?" asked the farmer.
"Send him up at once, and let him present himself at Simon Fluke's--say
who he is, that his parents are dead, and that he wishes for employment.
Do not let him appear like a beggar asking for alms; he will succeed
best by exhibiting an independent spirit, and showing that he is ready
to do any work which is given to him. We know he is quick, intelligent,
writes a beautiful hand, and has as good a head on his shoulders as many
a much older person."
"But surely we cannot send the boy up by himself," urged Mrs Rowe; "and
you, I suppose, cannot go again! David?"
"I'll go with him, mother," said John, the eldest son, "and willingly
bear the charge, for I should be glad to get a chance of seeing the big
city. If Simon Fluke were to refuse to receive young Owen, what would
become of the boy? I have heard of dreadful things happening to lads in
London, especially when they have no friends to care for them."
And so it was settled. John undertook to start the very next morning,
if Owen was willing to go.
Owen, who had been out in the garden making himself useful, now came in.
David gave him the information he had obtained, and inquired whether he
wished to pay a visit to his supposed relative?
"If he is likely to give me something to do, I am willing to go and ask
him," answered Owen.
"There is nothing like trying, and you can lose little by asking for
it," observed David.
Susan had prepared Owen's wardrobe to the best of her ability, so that
he was ready the next morning to start with John Rowe. They duly
reached the great city, and John and Owen managed to find their way to
Wapping. They walked about for some time, making inquiries for Paul
Kelson, Fluke and Company, whose place of business was at last pointed
out to them. They had passed it once before, but the name on the side
of the door was so obliterated by time that it was scarcely legible.
"Now, Owen, you go in, and success attend you," said John, shaking him
by the hand, as if they were about to separate for an indefinite period.
"Do not be afraid, I will not desert you!"
Owen, mustering courage, entered the dingy-looking office. John
remained outside while Owen presented himself, as has been already
described, to Simon Fluke.
Faithful John walked up and down, keeping a watchful eye on the door, in
case Owen might be summarily ejected, and resolved not to quit his post
until he had ascertained to a certainty that the boy was likely to be
well cared for. "If the old man disowns him, I will take him to some
London sights, and then we will go back to Fenside, and let him turn
farmer if he likes, and I'll help him; or it may be that David will hear
of something more to his advantage, or perhaps find out some of his
other relatives. David is as keen as a ferret, and he'll not let a
chance pass of serving the lad." John's patience was seriously tried.
He saw seafaring men of various grades pass in and out, corroborating
the account of the flourishing business of Paul Kelson, Fluke and
Company, and he concluded, while Simon Fluke was engaged with them, that
young Owen would have but small chance of being attended to.
"Well, I can but wait until they are about to close the place; then, if
Owen does not come out, I must go in and look for him," thought John.
He was resolved, however, not to do anything which might interfere with
the boy's interests; it took a good deal to put John out of temper.
Meantime Owen's patience was undergoing a severe trial. The two
brown-coated old gentlemen appeared to him to be a long time looking
over those big books. They had just concluded, when a junior clerk came
in to say that Captain Truck wished to see Mr Fluke. Glancing at Owen
as he passed, Mr Fluke hurried into his private room, while the old
clerk, tucking the big books under his arm, and filling his hands with
the papers, left the office. He stopped as he was passing young Owen.
"Sit down there, boy," he said, pointing to a bench near the door; "Mr
Fluke will speak to you when he is disengaged."
Several persons came in, however, before Captain Truck had gone away.
They were admitted in succession to speak to Mr Fluke; so Owen had to
wait and wait on, watching the clerks as they sat at their desks, and
observing the visitors as they paced up and down, while waiting their
turns to have an interview with the principal of the establishment.
This impressed Owen with the idea that the brown, snuffy old gentleman
was a far more important personage than he had at first supposed.
Several of the clerks who were moving about with papers in their hands
frequently passed the young stranger, but no one spoke, or bestowed even
an inquiring glance at him. Owen, who was tired with his journey and
long walk, was, in spite of his anxiety, nearly dropping asleep, when he
heard the words--
"Well, boy, what is it you want? Quick, say your business, I have no
time to spare."
The words were spoken by the brown-coated old gentleman. Owen, starting
up, followed him into the inner office. Here Mr Fluke, nimbly taking
his seat on his high stool with his back to the desk, again asked in a
testy tone, "What is it you want?" Owen stood, hat in hand, as he had
done nearly two hours before, and began briefly recounting his history.
"Tut, tut, what's all that to me?" exclaimed the old gentleman, pushing
up his spectacles, and taking a huge pinch of snuff, as he narrowly
scrutinised the boy with his sharp grey eyes. "What more have you got
to say for yourself?"
"I did not explain, sir, as I ought to have done at first, that my
mother's name was Walford, and that she was the daughter of a Miss Susan
Fluke, who married my grandfather, Mr Henry Walford."
The old gentleman had not hitherto ceased kicking his legs against the
high stool, a custom which had become habitual. He stopped, however, on
hearing this, and looked more keenly than ever at Owen.
"What proof have you got, boy, that your mother was once Susan Fluke?"
he asked in a sharp tone.
"David Rowe, who is clerk to Mr Orlando Browne the lawyer, found the
name in a book which had once been my grandmother's, and left by her to
my mother, called `Sturm's Reflections.'"
"I should like to see the book," said Mr Fluke, in a tone which showed
more interest than he had hitherto exhibited.
"David Rowe has the book at Fenside, but I could get it sent to you,
sir, if you wish to see it," said Owen.
"I do wish to see it; I want proof of the strange story you tell me,"
said the old man, taking another pinch of snuff. "And suppose it is
true, what do you want of me?"
"I want to find employment, sir, and the means of supporting myself. I
don't wish to be a burden on Farmer Rowe, the only friend I have beside
Jane Hayes, my old nurse."
Mr Fluke surveyed Owen from head to foot. "What can such a boy as you
do, except run errands, or sweep out the office?" he asked in a tone of
contempt. "What do you happen to know? Can you write? Have you any
knowledge of arithmetic?"
"Yes, sir," said Owen, "I am tolerably well acquainted with quadratic
equations; I have gone through the first six books of Euclid, and have
begun trigonometry, but have not got very far. I am pretty well up in
Latin. I have read Caesar and Virgil, and a little of Horace; and in
Greek, the New Testament, Xenophon, and two plays of Aeschylus; and my
father considered me well acquainted with English history and
geography."
"Umph! a prodigy of learning!" muttered the old gentleman. "Can you do
the rule of three and sum up?--that's more to the purpose. What sort of
fist do you write? Can you do as well as this?" and he exhibited a
crabbed scrawl barely legible.
"I hope that my writing would be more easily read than that, sir,"
answered Owen. "I could do the rule of three several years ago, and am
pretty correct at summing up."
"Umph!" repeated the old gentleman, "if I take you at your word, I must
set you down as a genius. I don't know that the learning you boast of
will be of much use to you in the world. If, however, I find the
account I have just heard correct, I may perhaps give you a trial. I am
not to be taken in by impostors, old or young; you will understand,
therefore, that I make no promises. I am busy now and cannot spend more
time on you, so you must go. I suppose that you did not come up here by
yourself?"
"No, sir, John Howe, Farmer Rowe's eldest son, accompanied me, and is
waiting outside; if you cannot give me employment, he wants me to go
back with him to Fenside."
"Tell him to stay in town until I have seen the book, and have had time
to look into the matter," said Mr Fluke. "Where are you stopping, in
case I may wish to send to you? But I am not likely to do that. Come
again when you have got the book."
"We are stopping at the `Green Dragon,' Bishopsgate Street, sir," said
Owen.
"Well, write down your address and the name of your friend," and Simon
Fluke handed a pen to Owen, and placed a piece of paper on the desk
before him. "Umph! a clear hand, more like a man's than a boy's,"
muttered the old gentlemen to himself as he examined what Owen had
written. "You may go now, and remember what I told you."
Saying this, Mr Fluke turned round on his stool, and applied himself to
his work without another parting word to Owen, who, making the best of
his way through the office, hastened out at the door. He looked up and
down the street, wondering whether John would have got tired and gone
away, but John was too faithful a friend to do that. He had merely
crossed over the street, keeping his eye on Paul Kelson, Fluke and
Company's office. Seeing Owen, John hastened over to meet him.
"Well, what news, Owen?" he asked, without uttering a word of complaint
at the time he had been kept waiting.
Owen described his interview with Simon Fluke.
"Not very promising," observed John; "I suspect that Simon Fluke's heart
is very like what David thought it might be, hard as a rock, or he would
have shown more interest in you when he heard that you were Susan
Fluke's grandson. However, we will do as he asks, and send for the
book, and in the meantime you and I'll go and see this big city of
London. There's the Tower, and Exeter Change, the British Museum, Saint
Paul's, and Westminster Abbey, and other places I have heard speak of.
The Tower is not far from here--we passed it as we came along; we will
go and see that first."
On their way, however, they began to feel very hungry, and were thankful
to find an eating-house where they could satisfy their appetites. The
fare was not of the most refined character, nor were the people who came
in. Two or three, seeing at a glance that John was fresh from the
country, offered to show him and his son the way about London.
"Maybe you'd like to take a glass for good fellowship," said one of the
men who addressed him.
But John, suspecting the object of the offer, declined it, as he did
others subsequently made him, and taking Owen by the hand, he gladly got
out of the neighbourhood. They made but a short visit to the Tower, as
John was anxious to get back to the "Green Dragon," that he might write
to David for the book.
"We will show it to the suspicious old gentleman, but we must take care
he does not keep it," said John. "I don't think, Owen, you must raise
your hopes too high. If he gives you the cold shoulder, you will not be
worse off than you were before, and you shall come back with me. You
will not be left without friends while father, David, and I are alive,
so cheer up whatever happens."
John, who, although country-born and bred, had his wits about him,
managed to see as many of the sights of London as he intended. Owen was
much interested by all he saw, and the days passed quickly by. The
important volume, which was, he hoped, to convince Simon Fluke of his
relationship, safely arrived one evening, and he and John the following
morning set off with it to Wapping. John insisted on remaining outside
while Owen had his interview with Simon Fluke, and ascertained whether
any employment was to be given him.
"If I find you are comfortably settled, then I shall go home happy in my
mind," said John; "if not, as I said before, you shall come back with
me; I won't leave you alone in this big city."
Owen entered the office with the book in his hand. Mr Fluke was
engaged in his private room. Mr Tarwig, the head clerk, got off his
stool to speak to him, and had Owen put a proper value on this piece of
condescension, he would have considered it a good sign.
"Sit down, my boy, the master will be out soon, and he has something to
say to you," said Mr Tarwig, pointing to a bench, and nodding to Owen,
he returned to his seat. In a few minutes the door opened, and a
fine-looking seafaring man, evidently the master of a ship, came out.
As he passed by he gave a glance at Owen, who heard him addressed by Mr
Tarwig as Captain Aggett. "What a pleasant look he has," thought Owen;
"I should like to be under him. I wonder if he can give me anything to
do?" Mr Fluke put his head out directly afterwards, and seeing Owen,
beckoned him in.
"Well, lad, have you got the book?" he asked.
Owen undid the parcel, and handed him the volume. The old man examined
it minutely, but Owen could detect no change in his countenance.
"That's my handwriting, there's no doubt about it, written when I gave
the book to my cousin Susan, as she was about to marry Henry Walford,"
muttered Mr Fluke to himself. He was then silent for some time,
forgetting, apparently, that any one was in the room. "Have you any
books with the name of Walford in them?" he asked, fixing his keen
glance on Owen; "that would be more clear proof that you are the person
whom you say you are."
"Yes, sir, I remember several of my mother's books which she had before
her marriage, and others which had belonged to my grandmother, with
their names in them; I do not know, however, whether they can be
recovered. A bookseller purchased the whole of them at the sale which
took place at the vicarage, but perhaps he has not yet disposed of
them."
"Boy, the books must be got at any price," exclaimed the old man, in an
authoritative tone, like that of a person not accustomed to be
contradicted. "Write to your friends, and tell them to buy them all up;
I will send them a cheque for the amount. We must not let them go to
the grocer's to wrap up butter and cheese."
"I will do as you desire, sir," said Owen.
"I am inclined to believe the account you give of yourself, boy, and you
shall have a trial," said Mr Fluke; his manner was far less abrupt than
it had hitherto been, and comparatively gentle. "Go to the outer
office, I am busy now; Mr Tarwig will look after you, and tell me what
he thinks."
He went to the door, and summoned his head clerk.
"Try him," said Mr Fluke, pointing to Owen.
"Come along with me," said Mr Tarwig, and he made a sign to Owen to get
up on a high stool, handing him, at the same time, the draft of a
letter. "There, copy that."
Owen transcribed it in a clear, regular hand, correcting two or three
errors in spelling.
"Good," said Mr Tarwig, as he glanced over it, perhaps not discovering
the improvement in the latter respect. "Now cast up these figures," and
he handed him a long account.
Owen performed the work rapidly, and when checked by Mr Tarwig, it was
found to be perfectly correct.
"Good," said the head clerk; "you'll do."
He handed him several accounts in succession, and which required
considerable calculation.
"Ah me!" exclaimed Mr Tarwig, and taking the papers he actually went
across the office to show them to his immediate surbordinate, who looked
round with a surprised glance at the young stranger.
What "Ah me!" meant Owen could not tell, but he judged that Mr Tarwig
was satisfied with his performance. Owen had not forgotten John.
"A friend is waiting for me outside, sir," he said; "if I am not wanted,
I must rejoin him."
"Stay and hear what Mr Fluke has got to say to you," answered Mr
Tarwig; "or go out and call your friend in, perhaps the master may have
a word to say to him."
Owen gladly did as he desired.
"I think they are pleased with me," he said to John; "and I understand
that Mr Fluke wants to speak to you, I suppose it is about getting back
my mother's books," and Owen related what had occurred.
"A good sign," said John. "Things look brighter than I expected they
would, but we must not raise our hopes too high."
Owen ushered John into the office, feeling almost at home there already.
In a short time Owen and John were summoned into Mr Fluke's room.
John was not prepossessed by that worthy's manner.
"You are John Rowe, I understand," he began. "Believing this boy's
account of himself I am going to give him a trial; if he behaves well,
he will rise in this office, for there is no doubt that he possesses the
talents he boasts of. He shall come and stop at my house. Go and get
his things and bring them here, for I shall take him home with me. Now
listen, Mr John Rowe, I want you to perform a commission for me. Here
is a cheque, you can get it cashed in the country. Buy up all the books
with the name of Walford in them which were sold at the Fenside Vicarage
sale."
As he spoke, he handed a cheque for 10 pounds to John, adding, "Do not
tell the bookseller why you want them, or he will raise the price. Buy
them in your own name. If this sum is not sufficient, let me know;
should it be more than you require, take it to defray the expenses you
have been at on the boy's account."
John thanked Mr Fluke, and promised to carry out his wishes, highly
pleased at what he considered Owen's good fortune.
Owen, however, felt somewhat disappointed at not being able to spend
another evening with his friend.
From Mr Fluke's manner, John saw that it was time to take his
departure, and Owen followed him to the door. John had to return with
Owen's box of clothes, but there probably would not then be time for any
conversation.
Owen sent many grateful messages to Fenside Farm. "I hope that Mr
Fluke will let me go down and see you sometimes," he added, "for I never
can forget all the kindness you, your father, and David have shown me,
and your mother and sisters."
"Well, if you are not happy here, mind you must tell us so, and you
shall ever be welcome at Fenside," said John, as they parted.