"I say, young un," he said, "I dare say it ain't no business of mine,
but if I was you, I should look after another place. Perhaps, though,
he wouldn't let you go."
"Mr Blakeford often says, Mr Rowle, that he wishes I was out of his
sight."
"Gammon!" said my visitor; "don't you believe him. You do as you like;
but if I was a boy like you, I wouldn't stay here."
I looked up at him guiltily, and he stared hard at me, as if reading my
thoughts.
"Why, what's wrong?" he said; "you look as red as a turkey cock!"
"Please, Mr Rowle--but you won't tell Mr Blakeford?"
"Tell Mr Blakeford? Not I."
"I mean to go up to London, and try and find my uncle."
"Try and find him? What, don't you know where he lives?"
"No, sir."
"Humph! London's a big place, you know."
"Yes, sir, but I dare say I could find him."
"What is he--a gentleman?"
"Yes, sir, I think so."
"So don't I, my boy, or he'd never have left you in charge of old
Pouncewax. But lookye here now; out with it! What do you mean to do--
give notice to leave, or are you going to cut?"
"Cut what, sir?"
"Cut what! Why, cut away--run up to London."
I hesitated for a few moments and hung my head; then, looking up in my
old friend's face, as he thrust his hand into his cuff--and I expected
to see him draw his pipe--I felt that I had nothing to fear from him,
and I spoke out.
"Please, Mr Rowle, I'm so unhappy here, that I was going to run away."
He caught me by the collar so sharply that I thought he was going to
punish me; but it was only touring down his other hand with a sharp clap
upon my shoulder.
"I'm glad of it, young un. Run away, then, before he crushes all the
hope and spirit out of you."
"Then you don't think it would be very wrong, sir?"
"I think it would be very right, young un; and I hope if you find your
uncle, he won't send you back. If he wants to, don't come: but run away
again. Look here; you'll want a friend in London. Go and see my
brother."
"Your brother, sir?"
"Yes, my brother Jabez. You'll know him as soon as you see him; he's
just like me. How old do you think I am?"
"I should think you're fifty, sir."
"Fifty-eight, young un; and so's Jabez. There, you go and put his name
and address down. Fifty-eight he is, and I'm fifty-eight, so there's a
pair of us. Now, then, write away: Mr Jabez Rowle, Ruddle and Lister."
"Mr Jabez Rowle," I said, writing it carefully down, "Good. Now Ruddle
and Lister."
"Ruddle and Lister."
"Commercial printers."
"Com-mer-cial prin-ters."
"Short Street, Fetter Lane."
"Fetter Lane."
"And now let's look." I handed him the scrap of paper.
"Why, it's lovely. Copper-plate's nothing to it, young un. There, you
go up and see him, and tell him you've come up to London to make your
fortune, and he'll help you, I went up to London to make mine, young
un."
"And did you make it, sir?" I said eagerly. He looked down at his
shabby clothes, smoothed his hair, and then, with a curious smile upon
his face--
"No, young un, I didn't make it. I made something else instead."
"Did you, sir?"
"Yes, young un--a mess of it. Look here, I might have got on, but I
learned to drink like a fish. Don't you. Mind this: drink means going
downwards into the mud; leaving it alone means climbing up to the top of
the tree. Bless your young heart, whatever you do, don't drink."
"No, sir," I said, "I will not;" but I did not appreciate his advice.
"There, you stick to that paper. And now, how much money have you got?"
"Money, sir?"
"Yes, money. London's a hundred miles away, and you can't walk."
"I think I could, sir."
"Well, try it; and ride when you're tired. How much have you got?"
I took out my little blue silk purse, and counted in sixpences
half-a-crown.
He looked at me for some few moments, and then stood thinking, as if
trying to make up his mind about something.
"I'll do it," he muttered. "Look here, young un, you and I are old
friends, ain't we?"
"Oh, yes!" I said eagerly.
"Then I will do it," he said, and untying his neckerchief, he, to my
great surprise, began to unroll it, to show me the two ends that were
hidden in the folds. "For a rainy day," he said, "and this is a rainy
day for you. Look here, young un; this is my purse. Here's two
half-sovs tied up in these two corners--that's one for you, and one for
me."
"Oh, no, sir," I said, "I'd rather not take it!" and I shrank away, for
he seemed so poor and shabby, that the idea troubled me.
"I don't care whether you'd rather or not," he said, untying one corner
with his teeth. "You take it, and some day when you've made your
fortune, you give it me back--if so be as you find I haven't succeeded
to my estate."
"Do you expect to come in for an estate some day, sir?" I said eagerly.
"Bless your young innocence, yes. A piece of old mother earth, my boy,
six foot long, and two foot wide. Just enough to bury me in."
I understood him now, and a pang shot through me at the idea of another
one who had been kind to me dying. He saw my look and nodded sadly.
"Yes, my lad, perhaps I shall be dead and gone long before then."
"Oh, sir, don't; it's so dreadful!" I said.
"No, no, my boy," he said quietly; and he patted my shoulder, as he
pressed the half-sovereign into my hand. "Not so dreadful as you think.
It sounds very awful to you youngsters, with the world before you, and
all hope and brightness; but some day, please God you live long enough,
you'll begin to grow very tired, and then it will seem to you more like
going to take a long rest. But there, there, we won't talk like that.
Here, give me that money back?"
I handed it to him, thinking that he had repented of what he had done,
and he hastily rolled the other half-sovereign up, and re-tied his
handkerchief.
"Here," he said, "stop a minute, and don't shut the door. I shall soon
be back."
He hurried out, and in five minutes was back again to gaze at me
smiling.
"Stop a moment," he said, "I must get sixpence out of another pocket. I
had to buy an ounce o' 'bacco so as to get change. Now, here you are--
hold out your hand."
I held it out unwillingly, and he counted eight shillings and four
sixpences into it.
"That's ten," he said; "it's better for you so. Now you put some in one
pocket and some in another, and tie some up just the same as I have, and
put a couple of shillings anywhere else you can; and mind and never show
your money, and never tell anybody how much you've got. And mind this,
too, when anybody asks you to give him something to drink, take him to
the pump. That's all. Stop. Don't lose that address. Gov'nor's not
down, I s'pose?"
"No, sir," I said.
"All right then, I shan't stay. Good-bye, young un. When are you
going?"
"I'm not quite sure yet, sir."
"No? Well, perhaps I shan't see you again. Jabez Rowle, mind you.
Tell him all about yourself, mind, and--good-bye."
He trotted off, but came back directly, holding out his hand.
"God bless you, young un," he said huskily. "Good-bye."
Before I could speak again, the door closed sharply, and I was alone.