TOM AT HIS SITUATION.
THE boat reached the landing stage by seven o'clock on Saturday morning.
"Carry your bundle, Tom, and follow me," said his mother. "I'll just
take you to Miss Pringle, and then I'm off to sell my prawns."
As Mrs. Gillies passed up the narrow street where Mother Crampton
lived, she stopped for a moment to speak to the dame, who was standing
at her door.
"Good morning, mother," she said. "This is my son. He's the one I told
you was going to live with Miss Pringle."
The old woman smiled kindly at Tom. She liked the expression of his
face.
"How different she is to grandmother Gillies!" thought the boy. "I'm
sure I shouldn't teaze her cat."
"Is your name Tom?" she asked.
"Yes," answered Mrs. Gillies. "He was christened Thomas, but we
generally call him Tom, sometimes Tommy, it doesn't matter which. He's
on his own account from this day. I'm sure he's old enough to earn his
living."
"I hope I shall hear that you're doing well," said Mother Crampton,
looking at Tom. "You may call and see me whenever you've half an hour
to spare."
"Thank you!" he answered.
"That's kind of you; for he won't be able to come home very often on
Saturday, because of his having to be back on Sunday evening to be
ready for Monday morning's baking," added Mrs. Gillies. "Our being on
that bit of an island makes us obliged to fetch him and send him back.
There isn't a fisherman in Dixtown who'd do the journey one way under a
shilling."
"Couldn't either of your sons help him?" asked Mother Crampton.
"They'll help him when business calls them here, but they work so hard,
poor fellows, I couldn't ask them to come on purpose."
"Then, Tom, I will invite you to spend any Sunday evening that Miss
Pringle spares you with me; but remember, I'm a quiet old body, and
can't bear noise. Will you like to come?" asked Mother Crampton.
"Oh! Yes, please," answered the boy; "and I'm sure I could sit still if
you'd talk to me."
Mrs. Gillies looked surprised. "He's behaving like a gentleman, I
declare," she said. "He's subdued-like, because he's got a black eye.
He went out and fell over the rocks. But come, Tom; I haven't any more
time to spend in gossip."
Tom allowed his mother to go forward a few steps, and then he turned
to Dame Crampton and said, "I don't believe I shall ever want to be
mischievous when I'm with you. Good-bye!"
The mother and son walked briskly through the town, and soon reached
the baker's shop which was to be Tom's home.
Miss Pringle had just finished her breakfast in the kitchen. She had
prepared a second bowl of porridge for her new boy, for she expected
him to arrive early, and felt she could not very well suffer him to
be hungry until dinner-time; and, in fact, there was no economy in so
doing, for he would only eat more then. She came into the shop when she
heard the sound of voices, and Tom met his new mistress for the first
time.
After a few preliminaries were arranged, and Miss Pringle had asked Tom
how he came by his black eye, his mother said, "I shall call for his
clothes every Saturday. Of course, I shall wash and mend them for him,
and I dare say I shall look in now and then to see how he's getting on."
"I never encourage much intercourse with home, Mrs. Gillies," answered
Miss Pringle, stiffly. "I keep my boy fully occupied, and always find
he works better if he doesn't see too much of his relations."
"Oh! Very well; it's the same to me. I'll only come and fetch the
clothes on Saturday." And nodding to her son, Mrs. Gillies left the
shop and walked up the street, crying, "Who'll buy fine prawns?"
She was so fortunate in finding customers that she was ready to return
home at noon; but knowing that Will would be busy in Dixtown until one
o'clock, she went to Mother Crampton's to spend the spare hour.
We must return to Tom.
"Follow me," said Miss Pringle so soon as they were alone.
Tom took up his parcel and walked behind his new mistress into the
kitchen. He stood at the window and watched her while she went to the
fire and set on a saucepan. In a few moments he heard her say, "It's
nice and hot now," and then she poured the contents into a basin of
exactly the same dimensions as one already standing on a round table.
She placed the basin, with an iron spoon, opposite to her own and sat
down, and pointing to a wooden stool, ordered Tom to take his place.
He did so, and found himself face to face with Miss Pringle, who was
unlike any one he had ever seen before. He wondered how he should get
on with her, for he already felt quite subdued in her presence.
"Your name is Thomas, I think," she said, in a grave voice.
"Yes, missus, but I'm most always called Tom."
"Say, 'Yes, Miss Pringle.' I always like my name pronounced by my
boys when they address me. Now hear what I have to say. Don't think
I'm a rich woman, Tom; I'm very poor, and have hard work to earn my
living; therefore, I expect my boy to do his best to save me from all
unnecessary expense. As to your food, you live just the same as I do,
so there can't be any grumbling about not being well fed. Would you
like me to tell you exactly what you have to do all day?"
"Yes, Miss Pringle."
"We rise at five o'clock in summer, six in winter, and on Sundays at
seven all the year round. You will hear the clock strike, and know
when to get up. I expect you to be dressed and waiting for me in the
kitchen by a quarter past seven to-morrow, and on Monday by a quarter
past five; but I do not wish you to unfasten a shutter or undraw a bolt
until I come down-stairs. When we have opened the house, you will have
to heat the oven while I make the bread; then you will sweep out the
shop and dust the bottles of sweets that stand in the window. Mind, I
do not allow you to take a single drop; I shall prosecute you if you
touch one: it's the kindest thing for me to do, and will save you,
perhaps, from being hanged; for great crimes generally come out of
little beginnings.
"You have to scrub the shop floor once a week, but you must wash the
stone steps every morning. Then you have to carry the bread out, attend
to the garden, fetch water, gather the fruit and sell it, and do just
whatever is wanted. I'm quite as particular about the fruit as the
sweets; if I find you eating a bruised apple, I shall stop off part of
your dinner; but if you gather an apple or a peach, I shall give you
into the policeman's hands.
"I've forgotten one thing here in the house, that is the stairs; you
have to sweep them down every morning. My bedroom is always locked,
for I attend to that myself; and the gentleman and his daughter who
lodge with me want nothing from you except civility. Now and then I
shall not mind your going home on Saturday until Sunday evening, but
only as a great treat; for, as I told your mother, I don't encourage
too much visiting of any kind. You'll go to church with me on Sunday
morning, and after dinner, your time is your own until half-past seven
in winter, and half-past eight in summer."
While Miss Pringle was speaking, Tom played with his iron spoon, for he
did not like to begin to eat without receiving her permission. She now
signified to him that he should take his porridge, and she handed him a
thick slice of stale bread.
"It's very good bread, and not too new," she said. "I often wonder how
my customers can do with it so fresh from the oven; it's very bad for
their digestion."
Tom soon dispatched his porridge, but he found it a harder matter to
eat the bread, so he quietly slipped what remained of his slice into
his pocket, when his mistress was making up the kitchen fire.
"Now you've finished, I'll show you where you sleep, and a drawer in
which you may keep your clothes," said Miss Pringle. "Bring your bundle
with you. This is your room," and she pointed to the hole under the
staircase. "You have a comfortable bed here, and I allow you clean
sheets once a month. This top drawer," and she opened one of a chest
that stood in a recess between the kitchen and staircase, "is for your
clothes. You can wash in the kitchen; I allow you a clean towel once a
fortnight. I will show you where you may keep it; and you will always
find soap in the dish by the side of the sink. Unpack your clothes, and
then come to me in the kitchen."
Tom was too much surprised to speak. He had been accustomed to rough
food and a hard bed, but he had never eaten such stale bread before,
nor slept in a blackhole under the staircase.
He soon disposed of his small wardrobe in the one drawer allotted to
him, and then went to Miss Pringle, who was sweeping the shop. "This is
scrubbing day," she called out, when she saw him enter. "Take the pail
to the pump, and fill it with water, and let me see you go to work."
Tom filled the pail, and began to scrub for the first time in his life.
He found it more difficult than he anticipated, for he had a hard
mistress to please. First he held the brush wrongly; then he made the
floor too wet; then he wasted the soap by leaving it in the water; and
at last, he could have cried with mortification.
Miss Pringle watched him for some time before she began to dust the
bottles in the window. "These are the sweets, Tom, I spoke of," she
said, tapping one of them with her knuckles. "Again I tell you that if
you steal a single drop, you will find your way to the police-station."
[Illustration: TOM SCRAPING THE FLOOR OF MISS PRINGLE'S SHOP.]
Tom was a long time before he finished scrubbing the shop. Afterwards,
he was ordered to sweep the stairs.
"They're only scrubbed once a mouth," said his mistress.
The boy found this task as difficult as the scrubbing, for he could not
manage his great broom. He was labouring over the undertaking, when a
door at the top of the staircase opened, and a young girl appeared with
a teapot. It was Annie Newton, who, remembering what Mother Crampton
had said about Tom, and seeing him, broom in hand, move down the stairs
to give her room to pass, said, "How do you do? I hope we shall soon be
good friends."
Tom's heart warmed towards Annie; she looked so pleasant, and spoke to
him as if he were her equal. So he answered, "Thank you, miss. Can I
fill your teapot? The water doesn't quite boil, I know; I'll bring it
up when it's ready."
Miss Pringle came out of the kitchen at this moment to look after Tom,
so Annie thought it was better to fill the teapot herself.
"Oh! It's you, Miss Annie. Come for your hot water, I suppose," said
the spinster. "That's my new boy; he isn't very handy yet, but I hope
he'll turn out well when he's been properly taught. How's your father
this morning?"
"Tolerably well, thank you," replied the young girl. "He seems in much
better spirits about his eyesight."
Having filled her teapot, Annie passed Tom again, and smiled at him, as
he stepped on one side to make way for her.
"I'll do anything for you," thought the boy. "How odd it is that, since
I've been at Dixtown, I've seen two people that I don't think I could
have behaved so badly to as I did to grandmother! I don't believe I
should have taken Harry's boat if they'd been with me instead of Dick."
And then Tom remembered the poor cat and its untimely end, and was so
absorbed that he stood with his chin on the broom, and did not hear
Miss Pringle come softly out of the kitchen to see what he was doing.
She brought him back to himself by laying her hand heavily on his
shoulder, and saying, "This won't do. I can't have an idle boy."
Tom looked very red, and set to work again, nor did he allow his
attention to flag until he had finished Saturday's cleaning.
"What am I to do next?" he asked, appealing to his mistress.
"Carry out the bread," she replied. "That is the basket on the shelf.
There are four families I send to. The people at the great house, they
have six loaves. Then there is Mrs. Richards in High Street has three
loaves; Mr. Johnson the butcher has three, and Mr. Smart the grocer
three. Now mind, I allow no playing on the road; you must not be gone
more than half an hour."
Tom walked away at a quick pace, and soon deposited his six loaves at
the great house. "I won't be behind to-day," he muttered, as he bent
his steps towards the High Street. But Tom, it must be remembered, made
resolutions in his own strength, and was infirm of purpose. He had not
gone very far before he stopped to look at some boys playing marbles;
and then at a sailor who was carrying home a toy sailing-boat, so that,
though he hurried the rest of the way, he lost five minutes, which he
could not make up.
Miss Pringle did not comment on his length of absence, and Tom hoped he
had escaped reproof; but when dinner-time came, he was informed that
he would have dry bread and water, and no bacon, which Miss Pringle
ate alone. She generally punished her boys for minor offences by
stopping off part of their food, because it answered a twofold purpose;
saved her provisions, and taught them that they could not disobey her
commands without reaping bitter consequences.
The boy felt very indignant. He would have promised to do better had
she given him a kind word of remonstrance, but to be deprived of half
his dinner made him rebellious.
"Take the basket and fill it with fallen apples," said his mistress
later in the day.
Tom was no longer bright and happy, or inclined to be obedient. "The
disagreeable old thing!" he murmured, as he walked down the garden.
"I'll eat some, that I will."
He picked up the apples, which were scattered about in every direction,
and ate as fast as he could meanwhile.
Opposite the apple-tree was a well-filled peach-tree. "How good they
look! I'm sure she hasn't behaved so well at starting that I need be
careful about taking just one," thought Tom. So he made a long step
across the border and gathered the largest he could see. He put it
hastily into his pocket, and was about to demolish it behind a shrub,
when he heard his mistress call "Tom."
"She's seen me from the window," he exclaimed. "No, she's not," he
added, for Miss Pringle was talking to a lady.
It was Mrs. Wyvil from the great house, who came to buy fruit. She
looked into Tom's basket, and offered Miss Pringle two shillings for
its contents. The offer was accepted, and Tom was ordered to carry them
across at once; which he did after secreting the peach in his drawer as
he passed the staircase.
The remainder of the day was spent in digging up potatoes and weeding
the gravel walk. Tom was glad to pause for a quarter of an hour and
sit down to his tea in the kitchen when the clock struck five, for he
had never worked so hard before in his life. His allowance was a bowl
of very weak tea, with a slice of the same stale bread, and a thin
scraping of butter on it.
"Now, Tom, get to work again," called the spinster from the shop when
the clock chimed the quarter. "At ten minutes to eight you may put away
your tools and come to supper."
When the evening meal was concluded, Miss Pringle said, "I want you to
read a chapter out of the Bible to me, Tom; but before you begin, tell
me, on your honour, did you eat any apples?"
"No, Miss Pringle."
"I believe you. Now read the twentieth chapter of the book of Exodus."
Tom felt a twinge. After, all Miss Pringle was better than he believed
her to be; for she supposed that he told the truth. He had a second
twinge when he read the commandments through, for had he not stolen?
Was not the peach in a corner of his drawer?
"I allow you ten minutes to get into bed, Tom," said his mistress.
"Don't be longer."
The boy took care to put the peach under his pillow, lest Miss Pringle
should look into his drawer when she came to take away his candle. So
soon as he was alone, he ate it, but he did not enjoy it in the least,
for he could not forget the words he had been reading. "Thou shalt
not steal," came to him again and again; and, somehow, the peach and
grandmother's cat were strangely mixed up in his dreams; so, though
he slept soundly, he felt very tired and miserable when he awoke next
morning.