HOME.
That evening George wrote a letter to Dr. Jeffries at Croydon, saying
that he had taken a little house for his mother to come to when she
came out of the infirmary, and as he had kindly said that he would
render her help if he could, would he be good enough to write to the
agent whose address he gave, saying that Mrs. Andrews, who was about
taking No. 8 Laburnum Villas, was a person of respectability.
The following evening he received a letter from the doctor saying that
he had written to the agent, and that he was glad indeed to hear that
George was getting on so well that he was able to provide a home for
his mother.
On Wednesday at dinner-time Mrs. Grimstone handed George a key.
"There you are, George. You are master of the house now. The agent
said the reference was most satisfactory; so I paid him the seven and
sixpence you gave me for a week's rent in advance, and you can go in
when you like. We shall be sorry to lose you both, for I don't want
two better lodgers. You don't give no trouble, and all has been quiet
and pleasant in the house; and to think what a taking I was in that
day as Bob brought you here for the first time, to think as he had let
the room to two boys. But there, one never knows, and I wouldn't have
believed it as boys could be so quiet in a house."
"Now we must begin to see about furniture," Bob Grimstone said. "The
best plan, I think, will be for you two to go round of an evening to
all the shops in the neighborhood, and mark off just what you think
will suit you. You put down the prices stuck on them, and just what
they are, and then the missis can go in the morning and bargain for
them. She will get them five shillings in the pound cheaper than you
would. It's wonderful how women do beat men down, to be sure. When a
man hears what's the price of a thing he leaves it or takes it just as
he likes, but a woman begins by offering half the sum. Then the chap
says no, and she makes as if she was going away; he lets her go a
little way and then he hollers after her, and comes down a goodish bit
in the price. Then she says she don't particularly want it and
shouldn't think of giving any such price as that. Then he tries again,
and so they gets on till they hit on a figure as suits them both. You
see that little tea-caddy in the corner? My wife was just three weeks
buying that caddy. The chap wanted seven and six for it, and she
offered him half a crown. He came down half a crown at the end of the
first week, and at last she got it for three and nine. Now, the first
thing you have got to do is to make out a list. First of all you have
got to put down the things as you must have, and then the things you
can do without, though you will get them if you can afford it. Mother
will help you at that."
So Mrs. Grimstone and George sat down with paper and a pencil, and
George was absolutely horrified at the list of things which Mrs.
Grimstone declared were absolutely indispensable. However, after much
discussion, some few items were marked as doubtful. When the list was
finished the two boys started on an exploring expedition, and the next
week all their evenings were fully occupied. In ten days after they
began the three bedrooms and the kitchen were really smartly
furnished, Mrs. Grimstone proving a wonderful hand at bargaining, and
making the ten pounds go farther than George had believed possible. On
the Sunday Bob went with his wife and the boys to inspect the house.
"It's a very comfortable little place," he said, "and that front
bedroom with the chintz curtains the missis made up is as nice a
little room as you want to see. As to the others they will do well
enough for you boys."
The only articles of furniture in the sitting room were two long
muslin curtains, which Mrs. Grimstone had bought a bargain at a shop
selling off; for it was agreed that this was necessary to give the
house a furnished appearance. Bob Grimstone was so much pleased at
what had been done that he shared George's feeling of regret that one
of the sitting rooms could not also be furnished, and on the walk home
said:
"Look here, George. I know you would like to have the house nice for
your mother. You couldn't make one of those sitting rooms comfortable
not under a five-pound note, not even with the missis to market for
you, but you might for that. I have got a little money laid by in the
savings-bank, and I will lend you five pounds, and welcome, if you
like to take it. I know it will be just as safe with you as it will be
there."
"Thank you very much, Bob--thank you very much, but I won't take it.
In the first place, I should like mother to know that the furniture is
all ours, bought out of Bill's savings and mine; and in the next
place, I should find it hard at first to pay back anything. I think we
can just manage on our money, but that will be all. I told you mother
does work, but she mayn't be able to get any at first, so we can't
reckon on that. When she does, you know, we shall be able gradually to
buy the furniture."
"Well, perhaps you are right, George," the man said after a pause.
"You would have been welcome to the money: but perhaps you are right
not to take it. I borrowed a little money when I first went into
housekeeping, and it took a wonderful trouble to pay off, and if
there's illness or anything of that sort it weighs on you. Not that I
should be in any hurry about it. It wouldn't worry me, but it would
worry you."
A week later Mrs. Andrews was to leave the infirmary, and on Saturday
George asked for a day off to go down to fetch her. Every evening
through the week he and Bill had worked away at digging up the garden.
Fortunately there was a moon, for it was dark by the time they came
out from the works. Bill was charged with the commission to lay in the
store of provisions for the Sunday, and he was to be sure to have a
capital fire and tea ready by four o'clock, the hour at which George
calculated he would be back.
Very delighted was George as in his best suit--for he and Bill had two
suits each now--he stepped out of the train at Croydon and walked to
the workhouse. His mother had told him that she would meet him at the
gate at half-past two, and punctually at the time he was there. A few
minutes later Mrs. Andrews came out, not dressed as he had seen her at
Christmas, in the infirmary garb, but in her own clothes. George gave
a cry of delight as he ran forward to meet her.
"My darling mother! and you are looking quite yourself again."
"I am, thank God, George. It has seemed a long nine months, but the
rest and quiet have done wonders for me. Everyone has been very kind;
and of course the knowledge, dear boy, that you had got work that you
liked helped me to get strong again. And you are looking well too; and
your friend, I hope he is well?"
"Quite well, mother, but in a great fright about you. He is glad you
are coming because I am glad; but the poor fellow has quite made up
his mind that you won't like him and you won't think him a fit
companion for me. I told him over and over again that you are not that
sort; but nothing can persuade him. Of course, mother, he doesn't talk
good grammar, and he uses some queer expressions; but he is very much
changed in that way since I first knew him, and he tries very hard,
and don't mind a bit how often I correct him, and he is beginning to
read easy words quite well; and he is one of the best-hearted fellows
in the world."
"If he is kind to you, George, and fond of you, that's enough for me,"
Mrs. Andrews said; "but I have no doubt I shall soon like him for
himself. You could not like him as much as you do if there were not
something nice about him. And you have succeeded in getting a room for
me in the house in which you lodge?" for George had never mentioned a
word in his letter about taking a house, and had asked Dr. Jeffries if
he should see his mother to say nothing to her about his application
to him.
"Yes, that's all right, mother," he replied briskly.
"And you have got some new clothes since I saw you last, George. You
wanted them; yours were getting rather shabby when I saw you at
Christmas."
"Yes, mother, they were."
"I suppose you had to part with your best suit while you were so long
out of work?"
"That was it, mother; but you see I have been able to get some more
things. They are only cheap ones, you know, but they will do very well
until I can afford better ones. I am not walking too fast for you, am
I? But we shall just catch the train. Or look here, would you mind
going straight by yourself to the railway station? Then you can walk
slowly. I will go round and get your box. I went into our old place as
I came along, and Mrs. Larkins said she would bring it downstairs for
me as I came back."
"No, I would rather go round with you, George. I want to thank her for
having kept it for me so long. Even if we do miss the train it will
not matter much, as it will make no difference whether we get in town
an hour earlier or later."
As George could not explain his special reason for desiring to catch
that train he was obliged to agree, and they stopped a quarter of an
hour at their old lodging, as Mrs. Larkins insisted upon their having
a cup of tea which she had prepared for them. However, when they
reached the station they found that a train was going shortly, and
when they reached town they were not so very much later than George
had calculated upon.
They took a cab, for although Mrs. Andrews' box was not heavy, it was
too much for George to carry that distance; besides, Mrs. Andrews
herself was tired from her walk to the station from the infirmary,
having had no exercise for so long. When they got into the
neighborhood of Limehouse George got outside to direct the cabman. It
was just a quarter past four when the cab drew up at No. 8 Laburnum
Villas.
"Why, is this the house?" Mrs. Andrews asked in surprise as George
jumped down and opened the door. "Why, you told me in one of your
letters it was a house in a row. What a pretty little place! It is
really here, George?"
"It is here, mother; we moved the other day. There is Bill at the
door;" but Bill, having opened the door, ran away out into the garden,
and George, having paid the cabman, carried his mother's box in and
entered the house with her.
"Straight on, mother, into the little room at the end."
"What a snug little kitchen!" Mrs. Andrews said as she entered it;
"and tea all laid and ready! What, have they lent you the room for
this evening?"
"My dear mother," George said, throwing his arms round her neck,
"this is your kitchen and your house, all there is of it, only the
sitting room isn't furnished yet. We must wait for that, you know."
"What! you have taken a whole house, my boy! that is very nice; but
can we afford it, George? It seems too good to be true."
"It is quite true, mother, and I think it's a dear little house, and
will be splendid when we have got it all furnished. Now come up and
see the bedrooms. This is Bill's, you know," and he opened the door on
the staircase, "and this is mine, and this is yours."
"Oh, what a pretty little room!" Mrs. Andrews said: "but, my dear
George, the rent of this house and the hire of the furniture will
surely be more than we can afford to pay. I know what a good manager
you are, my boy, but I have such a horror of getting into debt that it
almost frightens me."
"The rent of the house is seven and sixpence a week, mother, with
rates and taxes, and we can afford that out of Bill's earnings and
mine, even if you did not do any work at all; and as to the furniture,
it is every bit paid for out of our savings since we went to work."
On hearing which Mrs. Andrews threw her arms round George's neck and
burst into tears of happiness. She was not very strong, and the
thought of the sacrifices these two boys must have made to get a
house together for her completely overpowered her.
"It seems impossible, George," she said when she had recovered
herself. "Why, you have only been earning ten shillings a week each,
and you have had to keep yourselves and get clothes and all sorts of
things; it seems impossible."
"It has not cost so much as you think, mother, and Bill and I had both
learned to live cheap in Covent Garden; but now let us go downstairs;
you have not seen Bill yet, and I know tea will be ready."
But Bill had not yet come in, and George had to go out into the garden
to fetch him.
"Come on, Bill; mother is delighted with everything. She won't eat
you, you know."
"No, she won't eat me, George; but she will think me an out-and-out
sort of 'ottentot," which word had turned up in a book the boys had
been reading on an evening previously.
"Well, wait till she says so; come along."
So linking his arm in Bill's, George drew him along, and brought him
shamefaced and bashful into the kitchen.
"This is Bill, mother."
"I am glad to see you, Bill," Mrs. Andrews said, holding out her hand.
"I have heard so much of you from George that I seem to know you quite
well."
Bill put his hand out shyly.
"I am sure we shall get on well together," Mrs. Andrews went on. "I
shall never forget that you were a friend to my boy when he was
friendless in London."
"It's all the t'other way, ma'am," Bill said eagerly; "don't you go
for to think it. Why, just look what George has done for me! There was
I, a-hanging about the Garden, pretty nigh starving, and sure to get
quadded sooner or later; and now here I am living decent, and earning
a good wage; and he has taught me to read, ma'am, and to know about
things, and aint been ashamed of me, though I am so different to what
he is. I tell you, ma'am, there aint no saying what a friend he's been
to me, and I aint done nothing for him as I can see."
"Well, Bill, you perhaps both owe each other something," Mrs. Andrews
said: "and I owe you something as well as my son, for George tells me
that it is to your self-denial as well as to his own that I owe this
delightful surprise of finding a home ready for me; and now," she went
on, seeing how confused and unhappy Bill looked, "I think you two
ought to make tea this evening, for you are the hosts, and I am the
guest. In future it will be my turn."
"All right, mother! you sit down in this armchair; Bill, you do the
rashers, and I will pour the water into the pot and then toast the
muffins."
Bill was at home now; such culinary efforts as they had hitherto
attempted had generally fallen to his share, as he had a greater
aptitude for the work than George had, and a dish of bacon fried to a
turn was soon upon the table.
Mrs. Andrews had been watching Bill closely, and was pleased with the
result of her observation. Bill was indeed greatly improved in
appearance since he had first made George's acquaintance. His cheeks
had filled out, and his face had lost its hardness of outline; the
quick, restless, hunted expression of his eyes had nearly died out,
and he no longer looked as if constantly on the watch to dodge an
expected cuff; his face had always had a large share of that merriment
and love of fun which seem the common portion of the London arabs, and
seldom desert them under all their hardships; but it was a happier and
brighter spirit now, and had altogether lost its reckless character. A
similar change is always observable among the waifs picked up off the
streets by the London refuges after they have been a few months on
board a training ship.
When all was ready the party sat down to their meal. Mrs. Andrews
undertook the pouring out of the tea, saying that although she was a
guest, as the only lady present she should naturally preside. George
cut the bread, and Bill served the bacon. The muffins were piled on a
plate in the front of the fire as a second course.
It was perhaps the happiest meal that any of the three had ever sat
down to. Mrs. Andrews was not only happy at finding so comfortable a
home prepared for her, but was filled with a deep feeling of pride and
thankfulness at the evidence of the love, steadiness, and
self-sacrifice of her son. George was delighted at having his mother
with him again, and at seeing her happiness and contentment at the
home he had prepared for her. Bill was delighted because George was
so, and he was moreover vastly relieved at finding Mrs. Andrews less
terrible than he had depicted her.
After tea was cleared away they talked together for a while, and then
Bill--feeling with instinctive delicacy that George and his mother
would like to talk together for a time--said he should take a turn for
an hour, and on getting outside the house executed so wild a war-dance
of satisfaction that it was fortunate it was dark, or Laburnum Villas
would have been astonished and scandalized at the spectacle.
"I like your friend Bill very much," Mrs. Andrews said when she was
alone with George. "I was sure from what you told me that he must be a
good-hearted lad; but brought up as he has been, poor boy, I feared a
little that he would scarcely be a desirable companion in point of
manners. Of course, as you say, his grammar is a little peculiar; but
his manners are wonderfully quiet and nice, considering all."
"Look what an example he's had, mother," George laughed; "but really
he has taken great pains ever since he knew that you were coming
home. He has been asking me to tell him of anything he does which is
not right, especially about eating and that sort of thing. You see he
had never used a fork till we came down here, and he made me show him
directly how it should be held and what to do with it. It has been
quite funny to me to see him watching me at meals, and doing exactly
the same."
"And you have taught him to read, George?"
"Yes, mother."
"And something of better things, George?" she asked.
"Yes, mother, as much as I could. He didn't know anything when I met
him; but he goes to church with me now regularly, and says his prayers
every night, and I can tell you he thinks a lot of it. More, I think,
than I ever did," he added honestly.
"Perhaps he has done you as much good as you have done him, George."
"Perhaps he has, mother; yes, I think so. When you see a chap so very
earnest for a thing you can't help being earnest yourself; besides,
you know, mother," he went on a little shyly, for George had not been
accustomed to talk much of these matters with his mother--"you see
when one's down in the world and hard up, and not quite sure about the
next meal, and without any friend, one seems to think more of these
things than one does when one is jolly at school with other fellows."
"Perhaps so, George, though I do not know why it should be so, for the
more blessings one has the more reason for love and gratitude to the
giver. However, dear, I think we have both reason to be grateful now,
have we not?"
"That we have, mother. Only think of the difference since we said
good-by to each other last summer! Now here you are strong and well
again, and we are together and don't mean to be separated, and I have
got a place I like and have a good chance of getting on in, and we
have got a pretty little house all to ourselves, and you will be able
to live a little like a lady again,--I mean as you were accustomed
to,--and everything is so nice. Oh, mother, I am sure we have every
reason to be grateful!"
"We have indeed, George, and I even more than you, in the proofs you
have given me that my son is likely to turn out all that even I could
wish him."
Bill's hour was a very long one.
"You must not go out of an evening, Bill, to get out of our way," Mrs.
Andrews said when he returned, "else I shall think that I am in your
way. It was kind of you to think of it the first evening, and George
and I are glad to have had a long talk together, but in future I hope
you won't do it. You see there will be lots to do of an evening. There
will be your lessons and George's, for I hope now that he's settled he
will give up an hour or two every evening to study. Not Latin and
Greek, George," she added, smiling, seeing a look of something like
dismay in George's face, "that will be only a waste of time to you
now, but a study of such things as may be useful to you in your
present work and in your future life, and a steady course of reading
really good books by good authors. Then perhaps when you have both
done your work, you will take it by turns to read out loud while I do
my sewing. Then perhaps some day, who knows, if we get on very
flourishingly, after we have furnished our sitting room, we may be
able to indulge in the luxury of a piano again and have a little music
of an evening."
"That will be jolly, mother. Why, it will be really like old times,
when you used to sing to me!"
Mrs. Andrews' eyes filled with tears at the thought of the old times,
but she kept them back bravely, so as not to mar, even for a moment,
the happiness of this first evening. So they chatted till nine
o'clock, when they had supper. After it was over Mrs. Andrews left the
room for a minute and went upstairs and opened her box, and returned
with a Bible in her hand.
"I think, boys," she said, "we ought to end this first happy evening
in our new home by thanking God together for his blessings."
"I am sure we ought, mother," George said, and Bill's face expressed
his approval.
So Mrs. Andrews read a chapter, and then they knelt and thanked God
for his blessings, and the custom thus begun was continued henceforth
in No. 8 Laburnum Villas.
Hitherto George and his companion had found things much more pleasant
at the works than they had expected. They had, of course, had
principally to do with Bob Grimstone; still there were many other men
in the shop, and at times, when his bench was standing idle while some
slight alterations or adjustment of machinery were made, they were set
to work with others. Men are quick to see when boys are doing their
best, and, finding the lads intent upon their work and given neither
to idleness nor skylarking, they seldom had a sharp word addressed to
them. But after Mrs. Andrews had come home they found themselves
addressed in a warmer and more kindly manner by the men. Bob Grimstone
had told two or three of his mates of the sacrifices the boys had made
to save up money to make a home for the mother of one of them when she
came out of hospital. They were not less impressed than he had been,
and the story went the round of the workshops and even came to the
ears of the foreman, and there was not a man there but expressed
himself in warm terms of surprise and admiration that two lads should
for six months have stinted themselves of food in order to lay by half
their pay for such a purpose.
"There's precious few would have done such a thing," one of the older
workmen said, "not one in a thousand; why, not one chap in a hundred,
even when he's going to be married, will stint himself like that to
make a home for the gal he is going to make his wife, so as to start
housekeeping out of debt; and as to doing it for a mother, where will
you find 'em? In course a man ought to do as much for his mother as
for the gal who is agoing to be his wife, seeing how much he owes her;
but how many does it, that's what I says, how many does it?"
So after that the boys were surprised to find how many of the men,
when they met them at the gate, would give them a kindly nod or a
hearty, "Good-morning, young chaps!"
A day or two after Mrs. Andrews had settled in Laburnum Villas she
went up to town and called upon a number of shops, asking for work. As
she was able to give an excellent reference to the firm for whom she
had worked at Croydon she succeeded before the end of the week in
obtaining millinery work for a firm in St. Paul's Churchyard, and as
she had excellent taste and was very quick at her needle she was soon
able to earn considerably more than she had done at Croydon.
The three were equally determined that they would live as closely as
possible until the sitting-rooms were furnished, and by strict
management they kept within the boys' pay, Mrs. Andrews' earnings
being devoted to the grand purpose. The small articles were bought
first, and each week there was great congratulation and pleasure as
some new article was placed in the rooms. Then there was a pause for
some time, then came the chairs, then after an interval a table, and
lastly the carpet. This crowning glory was not attained until the end
of July. After this they moved solemnly into the sitting-room,
agreeing that the looking-glass, chiffonier, and sofa could be added
at a more gradual rate, and that the whole of Mrs. Andrews' earnings
need no longer be devoted.
"Now, boys," Mrs. Andrews said on that memorable evening, "I want you
in future, when you come in, to change your working clothes before you
come in here to your teas. So long as we lived in the kitchen I have
let things go on, but I think there's something in the old saying,
'Company clothes, company manners,' and I think it is good when boys
come in that they should lay aside their heavy-nailed shoes and their
working clothes. Certainly such boots and clothes are apt to render
people clumsy in their movements, and the difference of walk which you
observe between men of different classes arises very greatly from the
clumsy, heavy boots which workingmen must wear."
"But what does it matter, mother?" George urged, for it seemed to him
that it would be rather a trouble to change his clothes every day.
"These little things don't make any real difference to a man."
"Not any vital difference, George, but a real difference for all
that. Manners make the man, you know! that is, they influence
strangers and people who only know him in connection with business. If
two men apply together for a place the chances are strongly in favor
of the man with the best manners getting it. Besides, my boy, I think
the observance of little courtesies of this kind make home pleasanter
and brighter. You see I always change my dress before tea, and I am
sure you prefer my sitting down to the table tidy and neat with a
fresh collar and cuffs, to my taking my place in my working dress with
odds and ends of threads and litter clinging to it."
"Of course I do, mother, and I see what you mean now. Certainly I will
change my things in future. You don't mind, do you, Bill?"
Bill would not have minded in the least any amount of trouble by which
he could give the slightest satisfaction to Mrs. Andrews, who had now
a place in his affections closely approximating to that which George
occupied.
During the summer months the programme for the evening was not carried
out as arranged, for at the end of April Mrs. Andrews herself declared
that there must be a change.
"The evenings are getting light enough now for a walk after tea, boys,
and you must therefore cut short our reading and studies till the days
close in again in the autumn. It would do you good to get out in the
air a bit."
"But will you come with us, mother?"
"No, George. Sometimes as evenings get longer we may make little
excursions together: go across the river to Greenwich and spend two or
three hours in the park, or take a steamer and go up the river to Kew;
but as a general thing you had better take your rambles together. I
have my front garden to look after, the vegetables are your work, you
know, and if I like I can go out and do whatever shopping I have to do
while you two are away."
So the boys took to going out walks, which got longer and longer as
the evenings drew out, and when they were not disposed for a long
ramble they would go down to a disused wharf and sit there and watch
the barges drifting down the river or tacking backwards and forwards,
if there was a wind, with their great brown and yellow sails hauled
tautly in, and the great steamers dropping quietly down the river, and
the little busy tugs dragging great ships after them. There was an
endless source of amusement in wondering from what ports the various
craft had come or what was their destination.
"What seems most wonderful to me, George," Bill said one day, "when
one looks at them big steamers----"
"Those," George corrected.
"Thank ye--at those big steamers, is to think that they can be tossed
about, and the sea go over them, as one reads about, just the same
way as the wave they make when they goes down----"
"Go down, Bill."
"Thank ye--go down the river, tosses the little boats about; it don't
seem possible that water can toss itself about so high as that, does
it?"
"It does seem extraordinary, Bill; we know that it is so because there
are constantly wrecks; but looking at the water it does not seem
possible that it should rise up into waves large enough to knock one
of those great steamers in pieces. Some day, Bill, not this year, of
course, because the house isn't finished, but next year, I hope we
shall be able all of us to go down for a trip to the sea. I have seen
it stuck up you can go to Margate and back for three or four
shillings; and though Bob Grimstone says that isn't regular sea, it
would be enough to show us something of what it's like."
The garden occupied a good deal of the boys' time. Bill's long
experience in the market had given him an interest in vegetables, and
he was always ready for an hour's work in the garden after tea. The
results of much labor and plenty of manure were not unsatisfactory,
and Mrs. Andrews was delighted with her regular supply of fresh
vegetables. Bill's anticipation, however, of the amount that could be
grown in a limited space were by no means fulfilled, and seeing the
small amount which could be daily gathered, and recalling the
countless piled-up wagons which he had been accustomed to see in
Covent Garden, he was continually expressing his astonishment at the
enormous quantity of ground which must be employed in keeping up the
supply of the market.
They did not that year get the trip to Margate; but in the autumn,
after the great work of furnishing was finished, they did get several
long jaunts, once out to Epping Forest on an omnibus, once in a
steamer up to Kew, and several times across to Greenwich Park. Mrs.
Andrews found it a very happy summer, free from the wear of anxiety,
which, more even than the work, had brought on her long illness. She
grew stronger and better than she had ever expected to be again, and
those who had only known the pale, harassed-looking needlewoman of
Croydon would not have recognized her now; indeed, as George said
sometimes, his mother looked younger and younger every day. She had
married very young, and was still scarcely five-and-thirty, and
although she laughed and said that George was a foolish boy when he
said that people always took her for his sister, she really looked
some years younger than she was. Her step had regained its elasticity,
and there was a ring of gladness and happiness in her voice which was
very attractive, and even strangers sometimes looked round as they
passed the bright, pleasant-looking woman chatting gayly with the two
healthy, good-looking young fellows.