Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration: MRS. RONAN'S GRIEF AT HER SON'S LOSS. _Frontispiece._]
A DANGEROUS FRIEND;
OR,
Tom's Three Months in London.
BY
EMMA LESLIE
Author of "The Magic Runes," "The Making of a Hero,"
"The Pride of Greenwich," etc., etc.
LONDON:
THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION
57 AND 59, LUDGATE HILL, E.C.
BUTLER & TANNER
THE SELWOOD PRINTING WORKS
FROME, AND LONDON.
CONTENTS.
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CHAPTER
I. TOM'S HOME
II. BEGUILED
III. WAS HE A THIEF?
IV. AN ESCAPE FOR BOB
V. APPLES OF SODOM
VI. A FRIGHT FOR TOM
VII. THE WAY OF TRANSGRESSORS IS HARD
VIII. CONCLUSION.
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A DANGEROUS FRIEND
CHAPTER I.
TOM'S HOME.
"A LETTER from Uncle George," and the speaker, a boy about fourteen,
ran up the garden path, shouting the news as he came.
A brother and sister met him at the door of the cottage, each eager to
see the letter, but he held it high above their heads, and as he was
taller than either of them, it was quite out of their reach.
"How do you know it is from Uncle George?" asked his sister.
"How do I know, Polly? Why I've been down to the forge, and the postman
gave this to father as he went back to work this afternoon."
Tom's father was the village blacksmith, a steady, hard-working man,
who always had as much business as he could get through for the
neighbouring farmers, but was ambitious for his eldest son Tom to be
something better than a blacksmith.
So he had written to his brother in London, telling him what a fine
scholar Tom was, and how they had sent him to the grammar school in
the neighbouring town, in the hope that he might be able to get some
employment in London, as he was altogether too clever for a mere
village blacksmith.
His brother's first reply to this had not been encouraging, but a
second letter had been sent at his wife's earnest request, and this was
the reply to it.
Tom knew all about what it contained, but he would not tell the news
until his mother had seen the letter, and he ran with it to find her.
She was busy washing, but she took her hands out of the soapsuds and
wiped them carefully when she heard about the letter, for she was most
anxious for Tom to go to London and get a place in an office, where he
might by-and-by rise to be a clerk, as his uncle had done.
Tom stood and rubbed his hands as his mother read the letter, for he
knew she would feel pleased at the news it contained.
"What do you think of it, mother?" he asked at last, for he could not
wait until she had finished reading it.
"Why you ought to be very much obliged to Uncle George for the trouble
he has taken for you. Dick there, will never get such a chance, I am
afraid."
Dick had followed Tom to the wash-house, and now looked eagerly from
his brother to the letter in his mother's hand; but he did not ask the
question that was on his lips.
Polly, however, was always quicker than Dick, and she said, "Is Tom
really going to London, mother?"
"Of course I am; didn't I tell you so last week?"
"But you didn't know it last week," retorted his sister; "the letter
has only just come, so how could you know it last week?"
"Hold your tongue, and let me think for a minute how I am going to
manage," said her mother. "Uncle George says he wants you to go next
week, but I am not sure that I can get your things ready, Tom," she
said, in a tone of perplexity.
"Oh, mother, you must," replied the boy. "I don't want much; boys don't
want a lot of new frocks, like girls."
"But they wear out their shirts too fast," put in Polly.
"Yes, you must sit down to your sewing at once, Polly, and finish that
shirt you are making for Tom. And I shall have to clear up my washing
as quick as I can and come and see after his other things, for there is
no time to spare if he is to go away next week; and I suppose he must
if this place Uncle George has got for him is vacant."
"Oh, yes, mother, I must go, of course," said Tom imperatively.
"I shall be obliged to have a lot of new things, I expect," he said
confidentially to his sister, as he went back to the comfortable
kitchen, where she had begun to set the tea things in readiness for her
father's return.
"Yes, I suppose you will have heaps of new things; but father don't
seem to think Dick ever wants anything," said Polly in a resentful tone.
Dick was her favourite brother, and she was always ready to take up the
cudgels in his defence, for he was a quiet, silent boy, and people were
apt to think he was stupid, as he was so much slower in his methods
than his brother. But Polly knew Dick better than anybody else, and she
would sometimes say when she was angry at her favourite being passed
over for his more brilliant brother, "Dick is worth a dozen of Tom, and
you'll all find it out some day."
Now she felt annoyed about this project of sending Tom to London; she
knew exactly how it would be. The money that had been put aside to buy
a new great-coat for Dick this winter would all be spent on Tom, and
poor Dick would have to go without or have Tom's mended up to serve him
for best, though it was so torn and shabby that its owner had cast it
aside as beneath his notice now; for since he had been to the grammar
school in the town, he had taken up notions about his dress that had
not been thought of before.
When the blacksmith came home from work his wife met him with a
pleasant smile, but her first words convinced Polly that Dick would not
get his new coat, for her mother said, "It is lucky we put something
away for the children's new clothes."
"It was to buy Dick a new great-coat," said Polly; "you said he should
have it when Tom had his new suit a little while ago."
"Let Dick speak for himself, Polly," said her father, smiling at her
evident indignation.
"But you know he never does speak up for himself, father," said the
girl; "and I think it's too bad to take all his money to spend on Tom,
just because he is going to London. Why should he have the best of
everything and Dick go without?"
"Be quiet, Polly, and let Dick speak for himself," said her mother.
But she would have been very much surprised if the boy did speak up for
himself, for this was not at all in his way, and it would have vexed
her, too, just now, for she had made up her mind that all the money
laid aside would have to be spent upon Tom before he went to London.
She had already turned over in her mind what things he must have, and
she said to her husband, "We must go and get him some new trousers and
boots to-morrow, and I should like him to have a new coat, too, if you
can spare the money."
"He can do without the coat for the present," replied Flowers, as he
sat down to the table and helped himself to bread and butter.
Tom frowned and looked at his mother, and then down at the jacket he
was wearing. "This will do for Dick when I have done with it," he said,
"I shan't want to take this with me."
"Why not?" asked his father. "That will do for you to wear at first,
till we see how you are likely to get on, and then—"
"Perhaps you won't like it, and will want to come home again," put in
Polly mischievously.
"That's a girl's notion," said Tom scornfully. "Of course you would cry
for your mother before a week was over, but boys are different."
"What do you know about it? You have never been away from home in your
life, so how can you tell?" retorted his sister.
"Now, don't begin quarrelling, Polly," said her father. "Tom won't be
at home much longer, so try and be civil to each other while you are
together. I think you had better go with me to the tailor's in the
morning, my boy, for I daresay your mother has enough to do to get your
shirts and such things ready, and I shall be able to spare an hour or
two to-morrow. When the tea things are cleared away, you had better sit
down and write a letter to your uncle, and I will put a note in for
myself; but you must thank him for taking all this trouble for you, and
tell him you will be at Paddington Station next Wednesday evening as he
wishes."
So when Polly had put the tea things away, Tom brought out pen and ink
to write to his uncle, while his mother sat down to finish the shirt
she had been making for him.
It was quite an event, not only to the family, but to the whole
village, for Tom and all the family were born in the place, and his
father and mother only came from the next village when they were
married. And so to hear that Tom was going to London to live with his
Uncle George, and settle down there, caused quite a stir among the
neighbours, and every boy in the place envied him his good luck, and
wished they had his chances of getting on in the world.
On all sides the blacksmith and his wife were congratulated on Tom's
prospects, for he was going to live with his uncle who had no children
of his own, and therefore could well afford to look after his nephew.
The rest of the week was busy enough, not only for Polly and her
mother, but Dick was pressed into the service too, for none could do
enough for the boy who was so soon going away to the world of London.
Dick did not mind having to wear Tom's old coat, instead of having a
new one, as by this means his brother could have an entire new suit for
best, and only Polly grudged everything of the best being given up to
Tom, but she did not say much about it after the first evening was over.
So Tom went to London provided with everything that loving hands could
think of for his comfort, and the village was proud of the tall,
handsome boy who went away in the carrier's cart early in the morning,
that he might be in good time for the train that left the town about
ten o'clock.
The situation which had been secured for Tom was in a City warehouse,
where there was a number of lads about his own age, or a year or two
older. Here he had to write invoices, direct envelopes, run errands
occasionally, and make himself generally useful, both in the warehouse
and office.
He was to live at his uncle's house, but he felt a little disappointed
in his aunt, for she was not a bit like his mother, and seemed to think
it was a great bother to have a boy about the place.
His uncle took him to the warehouse the morning after his arrival, and
Tom found he would have to take his dinner, for it was quite two miles
from where his uncle lived to the City. The noise and confusion of so
many people passing and re-passing almost bewildered him at first,
and then the wagons and omnibuses seemed as though they would never
give him a chance to cross the road. But he was not a boy to be easily
conquered, and his uncle assured him he would soon get used to it all,
and think nothing of it.
He explained which way he was to take when he came home in the
afternoon, as they went along, for he would not be going back at the
same time, and having made this clear, he took him in to the gentleman
at the warehouse, and there left him.
Tom found that there were several other lads about his own age employed
about the place, and at dinner time he went out with the rest to eat
the meal he had brought with him. They had an hour to do as they
pleased, and he was not sorry when one of his companions proposed that
they should go for a walk. Tom knew nothing of the neighbourhood, and
was glad enough to have someone of his own age who was willing to show
him some of the wonders of London. And he at once began to ask the boy
about the Tower, and the Bank, and Westminster Abbey, and other places
he had read about at home.
"We can see the Bank as we go home," replied his new friend;
"but you'll have to wait to see the other places. Do you go to
Sunday-school?" he asked.
Tom shrugged his shoulders. "I had enough of Sunday-school at home," he
said; "I shan't go if I can help it now I've come to London. I want to
see all I can, not to be moped up in a Sunday-school all the time."
"But you ain't moped up all the time," returned the other. "I was going
to ask you to come to my Bible-class on Sunday afternoon, and then you
could join our social club for the other evenings in the week."
"What? Sunday-school all the week! No, thank you—I've had enough of
school, and I shouldn't have thought you London chaps would have
thought so much of it as to go week-day and Sunday too. I want to see
what London's like when my work is done, not pen myself up—"
"Oh, but we don't pen ourselves up," interrupted his new friend. "We
meet at the schoolroom twice a week and play at draughts or chess, and
then the other evenings there are classes for writing, and reading, and
arithmetic, and—"
"Oh, I've had enough of that too," said Tom, in a rather contemptuous
tone. "I want to go about and see things. I could play draughts in the
country."
"To be sure you could," chimed in another lad at this point. He had
been walking with them, but had not spoken before. "Bob is so gone on
Sunday-schools, that he is afraid to have a game for fear his teacher
should hear of it; ain't you, now?" he said, appealing to his companion
for confirmation of this.
"I don't care about pitch-and-toss, that you and Simmons think so much
of," admitted Bob.
"There! I told you so. He won't play at pitch-and-toss because it's a
bit lively."
"No, it ain't that. I like lively games as much as you do, but that is
too much like betting, and I promised I wouldn't bet or—"
"What is betting, then?" asked Tom.
"Don't you know? Just come up Fleet Street, and you shall see."
"We haven't got time," put in Bob. "We shall catch it if we're late,
you know."
"Oh, all right; I know what I'm about, and so does this chap, though he
has just come up from the country. You come with me, and if Bob likes
to go back, why I can show you the way just as well as he can—you come
to Fleet Street with me."
So Tom left his first companion.
And as soon as they were left to themselves, he confided to Tom that he
was very anxious to go and find out what horse had won in a race that
was to take place that day at Newmarket.
"Don't let it out to Bob, for he is such a muff about his
Sunday-school, but I hope to win six shillings over this race," said
the other as they hurried up Fleet Street.
They had not gone very far when they were stopped by a crowd that was
gathered round a shop window. And as they reached it, his companion
said, "Here we are. The news will be out in a minute, I expect," and
then he tried to elbow his way to the front, closely followed by Tom,
who was afraid of missing his new friend in the midst of this crowded
street here in London.
Still he could not understand, if the race was to be run at Newmarket,
why they should all stand staring up at this shop as though their lives
depended upon what was to be seen.
At last with a muttered grumble, his companion said, "We must go now,
and look sharp about it too, or Phillips will be in a wax and fine us
for being late. Come on," he added, pushing his way through the crowd
which now nearly blocked the footpath.
As soon as he was clear of it, the boy took to his heels and ran and
dodged between the people in such a fashion that Tom could scarcely
keep him in sight, and nearly got run over trying to dash across the
road after him.
As it was they were both beyond the time when they ought to have got
back to their work, and were spoken to very sharply for it.
"This is a bad beginning, my man," said one of the older clerks as Tom
went panting to his desk. "I thought you told me you had brought your
dinner with you."
"Yes, sir, I did, but I went out for a walk afterwards, and, and—"
somehow he did not like to say anything about Newmarket Races for fear
his new friend should not like it, so he added, "we looked in a shop
window too long."
"So I should think," said the man with a smile. "You must be careful
not to be late when you go out for a walk at dinner time or you will
get into trouble over it."
No more was said and Tom went on with his work, but he made up his mind
when he went to Fleet Street again, not to stay so long.
At the close of the day when he was leaving the warehouse, his new
friend met him on the steps.
"Have you heard the news?" he said, in an excited tone, but speaking
very cautiously.
"What news?" asked Tom, thinking he ought to be as eager as his friend.
"Why Drizzle's won, and I had a lot of money on him."
Tom stared. He had not heard enough of horse-racing to understand
all at once what his friend meant, but he did not leave him long in
ignorance as to his meaning.
"Jenkins went out in the afternoon, and he told me if he got a chance,
he should run and find out who was the winner, for he had put every
penny he could scrape up on Featherhead. I told him it was a roarer,
for I got my tip from a man I heard talking in the train. He was one
of the knowing ones he was, bound to know the correct card, don't you
see, so when I heard him say he should back Drizzle for all he could
put on her, I made up my mind to do the same. Jenkins says she came in
first, so I stand to win six shillings, I reckon—and that only cost me
sixpence, my boy."
Tom opened his eyes, and looked at his companion. "Six shillings! What,
a whole week's wages to do as you like with?" uttered Tom.
"That's just it, my boy. I put my sixpence pocket-money on Drizzle, and
I've got six shillings for it. Isn't that a lot of money for you?" he
demanded, rubbing his hands with glee. "Jenkins ain't up in the clouds
though over it, I can tell you; he made so sure Featherhead was coming
in first, that he borrowed Harry Bowers' allowance, and stood to win
more than me. But no, bless you, Featherhead was nowhere, and so his
money's gone, and he looks awfully down about it."
"Where are you going? I thought you said you lived my way?" said
Tom, suddenly stopping, for he could tell they were not going in the
direction his uncle had told him to take when he left him in the
morning.
"Why, I'm going to make sure about Drizzle, first thing. Come on,
we shan't be long, and then we can walk home together," and the boy
slipped his arm in Tom's and drew him in the direction of Fleet Street,
which they very soon reached, and then elbowed their way to the spot
where they had stood at dinner time, for there was still a crowd round
the window, many like Tom's friend, wishing to make sure before they
went home whether they had lost or won their money.
"Yes, it's all right," he said at length; "I shall get this money sure
enough. I say, you've brought me luck, old fellow, and if you like,
I'll lend you sixpence to put on the next race."
"But I don't know anything about horses, except their shoes," said Tom
laughing.
"Oh, that don't matter, we'll go partners, if you like. I'll tell you
what horse to put your money on," said his companion.
"Thank you, I'm much obliged, but I don't think I'll begin just yet; I
haven't got used to London ways, and—"
"Oh, you'll soon know your way about, I know. I can tell. You were not
born on a Thursday, I can see."
Tom knew this was intended as a compliment, and laughed. "If I do come
from the country, I know what I'm about, I hope. I tell you, country
lads are not such fools as people take them to be," added Tom, nodding
his head sagaciously.
"Well, you ain't, that's a sure fact. I could see we should be chums as
soon as you came in this morning."
He felt on good terms with all the world, since Drizzle had won the
race and changed his sixpence into six shillings, but how it would have
been if he had lost, he did not say or think. He was too much elated
over his luck to think of that just now.
The boys walked the first mile of their journey homeward together,
and then their roads separated, but they agreed to meet again in the
morning and walk to their work.
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