I did not sit thinking long, for I felt that I must be up and doing.
The long barge had crept silently away and was out of sight, but I felt
that after my dismissal I ought not to follow it; so I crossed a bridge
over the canal and went on and on between rows of houses and along
streets busy with vehicles coming and going, and plenty of people.
For the first half-hour I felt that everybody knew me and was staring at
the boy who had run away from Mr Blakeford's office; but by degrees
that idea passed off and gave place to another, namely, that I was all
alone in this great city, and that it seemed very solitary and strange.
For above an hour I walked on, with the streets growing thicker and the
noise and bustle more confusing. I had at last reached a busy
thoroughfare; gas was burning, and the shops looked showy and
attractive. The one, however, that took my attention was a coffee-shop
in a side street, with a great teapot in the window, and a framed card
on which I read the list of prices, and found that a half-pint cup of
coffee would be one penny, and a loaf and butter twopence.
My money was getting scarce, but I was tired and hungry, and after
staring at that card for a long time I thought I would venture to go in,
and walked right up to the door. I dared, however, go no farther, but
walked straight on, turned, and came back, and so on several times,
without being able to make up my mind; but at last, as I was still
hovering about the place, I caught sight of a policeman advancing in the
distance, and, fully assured that it must be Mary's friend, Mr Revitts,
in search of me, I walked breathlessly into the coffee-house and sat
down at the nearest table.
There were several men and lads seated about, but they were all, to my
great relief, reading papers or periodicals, and I was recovering my
equanimity somewhat, when it was upset by a bustling maid, who came as I
thought fiercely up to me with a sharp "What's for you?"
"A cup of coffee, if you please," I stammered out.
"And roll and butter?"
"Yes, please," I said, somewhat taken aback that she should, as I felt,
have divined my thoughts; and then, in an incredibly short space of
time, a large cup of steaming coffee and a roll and pat of butter were
placed on the table.
After timidly glancing round to find that it was no novel thing for any
one to enter a coffee-house and partake of the fare before me, I
proceeded to make my meal, wishing all the while that Jack had been
there to share it, and wondering where he was, till at last the coffee
was all drunk, the roll and butter eaten, and after paying what was due
I stole off once more into the streets. I went on and on in a
motiveless way, staring at the wonders ever unfolding before me, till,
utterly wearied out, the thought struck me that I must find a
resting-place somewhere, for there were no haystacks here, there was no
friendly tarpaulin to share with Jack, and, look where I would, nothing
that seemed likely to suggest a bed.
I had wandered on through wide, well-lighted streets, and through
narrow, poverty-stricken places, till I was in a busy, noisy row, along
the pavement of which were broad barrows with flaming lamps, and laden
with fish, greengrocery, and fruit. There was noise enough to confuse
anyone used to London; to me it was absolutely deafening.
I had seen by a clock a short time before that it was nearly ten, and my
legs ached so that I could scarcely stand; and yet, in the midst of the
busy throng of people hurrying here and there, I alone seemed to be
without friend or home.
I had been wandering about in a purposeless way for a long time, trying
to see some one who would win my confidence enough to make me ask where
I could obtain a night's lodging, when I suddenly became aware that a
big lad with a long narrow face and little eyes seemed to be watching
me, and I saw what seemed to me so marked a resemblance to the young
scoundrel who had stolen my bundle, that I instinctively grasped it more
tightly and hurried away.
On glancing back, I found that the boy was following, and this alarmed
me so that I hastened back into the big street, walked along some
distance, then turned and ran as hard as I could up one street and down
another, till at last I was obliged to stop and listen to make sure
whether I was pursued.
To my horror I heard advancing steps, and I had just time to shrink back
into a doorway before, by the dim light of the gas, I saw the lad I
sought to avoid run by, and as soon as his heavy boots had ceased to
echo, I crept out and ran in the other direction, till, completely worn
out, I sat down upon a doorstep in a deserted street, and at last
dropped off fast asleep.
I was startled into wakefulness by a strange glare shining in my face,
and, looking up, there was a round glowing eye of light seeming to
search me through and through.
For a few moments I could do nothing but stare helplessly and then
started nervously as a gruff voice exclaimed--"Here; what's in that
bundle?"
"My clothes and clean shirt, sir," I faltered. "Let's look."
My hands shook so that I was some time before I could get the
handkerchief undone; but in the meantime I had been able to make out
that the speaker was a policeman, and in my confusion at being awakened
out of a deep sleep, I associated his coming with instructions from Mr
Blakeford.
At last, though, I laid my bundle open on the step, and my questioner
seemed satisfied.
"Tie it up," he said, and I hastened to obey. "Now, then, young
fellow," he continued, "how is it you are sitting here asleep? Why
don't you go home?"
"Please, sir, I came up from the country to-day, and I ran away from a
boy who wanted to steal my bundle, and then I sat down and fell asleep."
"That's a likely story," he said, making the light of the lantern play
upon my face. "Where were you going?"
"I don't know, sir. Yes I do--to Mr Rowle."
"And where's Mr Rowle's?"
"It's--it's--stop a minute, sir. I've got the address written down.
It's at a great printing-office."
As I spoke I felt in my pockets one after the other for the address of
Mr Rowle's brother, but to my dismay I found that it was gone, and,
search how I would, there was no sign of it in either pocket. At last I
looked up full in the policeman's face, to exclaim pitifully--"Please,
sir, it's gone."
"Is it now?" he said in a bantering, sneering tone. "That's a wonder,
that is: specially if it warn't never there. Look here, young fellow,
what have you come to London for?"
"Please, sir, I've come to seek my fortune."
"Oh, you have, have you? Now look here, which are you, a young innocent
from the country, or an artful one? You may just as well speak out, for
I'm sure to find out all about it."
"Indeed I've come up from the country, sir, to try and get a place, for
I was so unhappy down there."
"Then you've run away from your father and mother, eh?"
"No, sir; they are both dead."
"Well, then, you've run away from home, eh?"
"No, sir," I said sadly; "I haven't any home."
"Well, what's got to be done? You can't stop here all night."
"Can't I, sir?"
"Can't you, sir? Why, what a young gooseberry it is! Have you been to
London before?"
"No, sir."
"When did you come up?"
"Only this evening, sir."
"And don't you know that if I leave you here some one'll have your
bundle, and perhaps you too, before morning?"
"I was so tired, sir, I fell asleep."
"Come along o' me. The best thing I can do for you's to lock you up
till morning."
"Thank you, sir."
He burst out into a roar of laughter as he turned off the light of his
bull's-eye.
"Come along, youngster," he said, "it's all right, I see. Why, you are
as green as a gooseberry."
"Am I, sir?" I said piteously, for I felt very sorry that I was so
green, as he called it, but I was too much confused to thoroughly
understand what he meant.
"Greener, ever so much. Why, if you'd gone down Covent Garden to sleep
amongst the baskets you'd have got swept up for cabbage leaves."
"Covent Garden Market, sir? Is that close here?" I said.
"As if you didn't know," he replied, returning to his doubting vein.
"I've heard my papa speak of it," I said, eager to convince him that I
was speaking the truth. "He said the finest of all the fruit in the
country went there, and that the flowers in the central--central--"
"Avenue?" suggested the constable.
"Yes, central avenue--were always worth a visit."
"That's so. And that's what your papa said, eh?"
"Yes, sir, I have heard him say so more than once."
"Then don't you think, young fellow, as it looks very suspicious for a
young gent as talks about his _papa_ to be found sleeping on a
doorstep?"
"Yes, sir, I suppose it does," I said, "but I have no friends now."
"Well, you'd better come along o' me, and tell your tale to the
inspector. I'm not going to leave you here. He'll soon get to know the
rights of it. You've run away, that's what you've done."
"Yes, sir," I said; "I did run away, but--"
"Never mind the buts, youngster. You'll have to be sent back to your
sorrowing friends, my absconding young sloper."
"No, no, no?" I cried wildly, as he took hold of my cuff. "Don't send
me back, pray don't send me back."
"None o' that 'ere now," he said, giving me a rough shake. "You just
come along quietly."
"Oh, I will, sir, indeed I will!" I cried, "but don't, pray don't send
me back."
"Why not? How do you know but it won't be best for yer? You come along
o' me sharp, and we'll soon physic your constitution into a right
state."
The agony of dread that seized me at that moment was more than I could
bear. In imagination I saw myself dragged back to Mr Blakeford, and
saw the smile of triumph on his black-looking face, as he had me again
in his power, and, boy as I was then, and full of young life and
hopefulness, I believe that I would gladly have jumped into the river
sooner than have had to trust to his tender mercies again.
In my horror, then, I flung myself on my knees before the policeman, and
clasped his leg as I appealed wildly to him to let me go.
"If you sent me back, sir," I cried piteously, "he'd kill me."
"And then we should kill him," he said, laughing. "Not as that would be
much comfort to you. Here, get up."
"You don't know what I suffered, sir, after poor papa and mamma died.
He used me so cruelly, and he beat me, too, dreadfully. And now, after
I have run away, if he gets me back he will be more cruel than before."
"Well, I s'pose he wouldn't make it very pleasant for you, youngster.
There, come: get up, and you shall tell the inspector, too, all about
it."
"No, no, no," I cried wildly, as in spite of his efforts to get me up I
still clung to his leg.
"Come, none of that, you know. I shall have to carry you. Get up."
He seized me more roughly, and dragged me to my feet, when with a hoarse
cry of dread, I made a dash to escape, freed my arm and ran for freedom
once again, as if it were for my life.