AN ENEMY.
DAY after day sped by with little to mark its flight in the life of
Reuben Roy. And yet each left its impress, as each day surely does in
the life of every one. The days we count memorable do not necessarily
represent the most momentous hours of our history. Every day adds
something to the character we are building up; every day presents to
us, in some form or other, that choice between good and evil which
determines our true selves.
There is no pause in the development of character. If our principles
are not daily being strengthened and purified, they are becoming
relaxed, impure, corrupt. Thus we need to pray daily, in the words
taught us by our Lord, that we might not be "led into,"—brought into
the power of—"temptation," but may be "delivered from evil."
It rarely happened that Reuben saw Mr. Akenside, though that gentleman
was generally at the works. When they did chance to meet, he would
speak kindly to Reuben, and inquire if he had good news from Ashworth.
Reuben was under the control of the foreman of the department in which
he worked, and this man seemed from the first to take a dislike to the
lad, and to endeavour to make things as hard as possible for him.
Nat Savage, as he was familiarly called by the "hands" when there
was no chance of his hearing them, had worked for the firm for many
years, and was thoroughly respected and trusted by his employers. He
was held in less favour by the workpeople, however. Smooth, sleek,
and subservient in his bearing towards his superiors, he was harsh
and unjust to those beneath him. Reuben found it almost impossible to
please him, and the dread of his coarse, unjust faultfinding added
to the troubles of the lad's lot. One day he sent for Reuben in the
dinner-hour.
"Look here, my lad," he said, with a more good-natured air than he
often assumed towards him, "I am going to send you on an errand. I want
you to go to Aston for me."
"Very well, sir," said Reuben. "Must I start at once?"
"As soon as you have had your dinner. I shall give you a note to carry,
and you must wait and bring me back an answer."
"That will take some time," said Reuben, "but I suppose I shall not
lose my pay."
"Certainly not. You tell the timekeeper that you are sent on business
for the firm, and he'll make it all right. But don't say anything about
the business; don't say I sent you, if you should meet one of the
masters, Reuben. If you are asked where you are going, say that you
felt ill, and I said you might go home."
Reuben flushed hotly. He was silent for a few moments; then he said, "I
can't say that, sir."
"Can't! What do you mean, you impudent young dog? What do you mean by
saying that you can't do what I tell you?"
"I mean that I 'won't' do it," said Reuben bluntly. "I am not going to
tell lies to please any man."
His words enraged the foreman. He broke into a storm of abuse, and
advanced with clenched fist as though he would strike Reuben. But
recollecting himself, he dropped his arm and turned away with a sneer.
"I suppose you are one of the pious sort. You set up for being better
than any one else. I know the style. But I'd have you understand, we
don't want any psalm-singing hypocrites here. You can go; I can find
some one else to do my errand."
Reuben went away feeling very unhappy. He had made a brave stand for
the right, but the circumstances were such as could yield him no glad
sense of victory. He had the approval of his conscience, but that
failed to overcome the sense of foreboding that oppressed him. There
could be no doubt that he had made an enemy of Mr. Savage. He had been
harsh enough before, but Reuben foresaw that in future, the foreman's
treatment of him would be marked by a special vindictiveness.
And so it was. The feeling of Savage towards the lad who had dared
to oppose him now amounted to positive hatred, and he watched for
an opportunity of doing him an injury. He was anxious to get him
ousted from the works. He spoke disparagingly of him to Mr. Akenside,
intimating, with an air of regret, that the lad was so unruly and
impudent that he feared he should never be able to do anything with him.
Mr. Akenside was surprised and disappointed. What he had seen of Reuben
Roy had given him a very different impression. But he reflected with a
sigh that one may very easily make a mistake in judging of character.
Reuben cared less about the harshness of Savage as Christmas
approached, and he could look forward to spending three whole days
at home. Kate, the girl who had given him the flowers, and with whom
ever since he had been on friendly terms, envied him as she marked his
bright look when he spoke of going home.
"You've got a good mother, I reckon," she said to him one day, "or you
would not be so mighty pleased at going home."
"Ay, my mother's a right good sort," said Reuben, with a smile.
"And mine was a bad lot, but she's dead now, so I won't speak agin
her," said Kate quickly. "Maybe if I'd had a good mother, I'd have been
a different sort of girl. But what's the good of talking about it now?
Folks must take me as I am. And if they don't like me, it's all the
same to me."
With that she began to sing, accompanying her song with a kind of wild
dance. Kate was never serious long. Indeed, this was the first time
Reuben had seen her display any kind of feeling.
The train by which Reuben travelled to Ashworth on Christmas Eve
carried Owen Grant home also. Reuben saw Owen at the station before
the train started, and he fancied that Owen saw him, but he walked
away to the bookstall, and stood there with his back towards Reuben,
as though desirous of avoiding him. So Reuben understood the action,
and accordingly, he kept out of Owen's way. But midway to Ashworth,
a change of trains had to be made, and as Reuben alighted at the
junction, he was brought face to face with Owen Grant, and, if either
wished it, there was no chance of avoiding a greeting.
"Hullo! Reuben, old chap! Are you going down to Ashworth too? That
is good luck," said Owen, with rather effusive friendliness; "I was
wondering if you would be able to get away."
"Yes; the factory is closed for three days," said Reuben. "How long do
you get, Owen?"
"The same time. It is not to be expected that they can give longer in
such a business as ours. We have to work, I can tell you; but the pay
is good."
Owen's smart appearance seemed to confirm this statement. He was
Reuben's companion for the rest of the way, and talked incessantly,
chiefly about himself. It was clear that he held himself in higher
esteem than ever, and the tone he adopted in talking to Reuben, though
friendly, had a touch of condescension.
The night was wet and cold. But when they reached Ashworth, old David
Grant stood on the platform to welcome his son.
The old man's voice trembled with emotion; his beaming looks told his
pride and pleasure in the smart young man, who seemed to attract the
notice of everybody.
No one had come to meet Reuben Roy, nor had he expected to be met. He
quietly shouldered his carpet-bag and marched homewards, attracting few
glances as he went. But the welcome that awaited him when he reached
the cottage—from the loving, weary mother, who had just finished her
day's work and "cleaned up" the place; from the little ones, who had
been allowed to stay up an hour later than usual because their brother
was coming; and from his father when he came back from carrying home
the last basket of linen—that warm, joyous welcome seemed to make
amends for all Reuben had had to endure since he left home.
Christmas morning was bright, and both Mr. and Mrs. Grant appeared
at church, accompanied by their beloved son. Reuben saw them in the
churchyard when the service was over. They greeted him very kindly.
"We are so glad," said Mrs. Grant, "that you and Owen see each other
sometimes in Birmingham. It is so nice for him to have an old friend
near him, for he must often feel lonely when he is away from home."
Her words were rather discomposing to Reuben. He hardly knew how to
reply to them.
"We are not near each other," he said abruptly.
"Mother knows that," put in Owen quickly, as if to prevent his saying
more; "she knows that you live in another part of Birmingham, and it is
impossible for us to meet very often."
"But you see each other on Sundays," said the old woman gently; "you go
to the same church, Owen tells me."
Reuben looked up in astonishment. At the same moment he caught a
warning, entreating glance from Owen. A deep blush, which might have
been taken for a blush of guilt, overspread Reuben's countenance. How
could Owen tell such an untruth to his mother?
Reuben said nothing, and Mrs. Grant took his silence for assent.
A little farther on their ways separated, and Reuben said "Good-day" to
the Grants.
He did not see Owen again till they met at the station when they were
about to return to Birmingham. Their meeting gave Reuben no pleasure,
for he felt disgusted with Owen for the way in which he was deceiving
his parents. Owen's self-satisfaction, however, seemed as complete
as ever. He showed no consciousness of having done anything of which
he should be ashamed. He regarded himself as a sharp, clever fellow,
sure to get on in the world, and held Reuben but a poor creature in
comparison.
As they approached Birmingham, and were about to part, Owen suddenly
asked Reuben if he could lend him five shillings.
"The fact is I'm rather hard up," he said, with a magnificent air.
"I've spent too much money on the old people this Christmas. I shall
receive my salary in a day or two, and then I'll pay you. But don't if
it's not convenient."
It was not quite easy for Reuben to spare five shillings just then. But
he did not like to refuse, so he handed the sum to Owen, who thanked
him, assured him again that it should be returned in a day or two, and
went his way.
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