"DEAR SIR,--I appreciate your kindness in offering me the situation
mentioned in your letter of the 4th, and especially your remarks in
reference to my late father, who was indeed worthy of esteem. I shall
have pleasure in calling on you on hearing that you are satisfied with
the testimonials herewith enclosed.--I am, etcetera."
"Now, Phil, will that do?"
"Do? of course it will. Nothing could be better. Only--"
"Well, what?"
"Don't you think that you might call without waiting to hear his opinion
of your testimonials?"
"No, Phil, I don't," replied the other in a slightly petulant tone; "I
don't feel quite sure of the spirit in which he referred to my dear
father. Of course it was kind and all that, but it was slightly
patronising, and my father was an infinitely superior man to himself."
"Well, I don't know," said Phil; "if you're going to accept a favour of
him you had better try to feel and act in a friendly way, but of course
it would never do to encourage him in pride."
"Well then, I'll send it," said Aspel, closing the letter; "do you know
where I can post it?"
"Not I. Never was here before. I've only a vague idea of how I got
here, and mustn't go far with you lest I lose myself."
At that moment Miss Lillycrop's door opened and little Tottie issued
forth.
"Ah! she will help us.--D'you know where the Post-Office is, Tottie?"
"Yes, sir, it's at the corner of the street, Miss Lillycrop says."
"Which direction?"
"That one, I think."
"Here, I'm going the other way: will you post this letter for me?"
"Yes, sir," said Tottie.
"That's a good girl; here's a penny for you."
"Please, sir, that's not a penny," said the child, holding out the
half-crown which Aspel had put in her hand.
"Never mind; keep it."
Tottie stood bereft of speech at the youth's munificence, as he turned
away from her with a laugh.
Now, when Tottie Bones said that she knew where the post was, she did so
because her mistress had told her, among other pieces of local
information, that the pillar letter-box stood at the corner of the
street and was painted red; but as no occasion had occurred since her
arrival for the posting of a letter, she had not yet seen the pillar
with her own eyes. The corner of the street, however, was so plain a
direction that no one except an idiot could fail to find it.
Accordingly Tottie started off to execute her mission.
Unfortunately--or the reverse, as the case may be--streets have usually
two corners. The child went, almost as a matter of course, to the wrong
one, and there she found no pillar. But she was a faithful messenger,
and not to be easily balked. She sought diligently at that corner until
she really did find a pillar, in a retired angle. Living, as she did,
chiefly in the back slums of London, where literary correspondence is
not much in vogue, Tottie had never seen a pillar letter-box, or, if she
had, had not realised its nature. Miss Lillycrop had told her it was
red, with a slit in it. The pillar she had found was red to some extent
with rust, and it unquestionably had a slit in it where, in days gone
by, a handle had projected. It also had a spout in front. Tottie had
some vague idea that this letter-box must have been made in imitation of
a pump, and that the spout was a convenient step to enable small people
like herself to reach the slit. Only, she thought it queer that they
should not have put the spout in front of the pillar under the slit,
instead of behind it. She was still more impressed with this when,
after having twice got on the spout, she twice fell off in futile
efforts to reach round the pump with her small arms.
Baffled, but not defeated, Tottie waited till some one should pass who
could put the letter in for her, but in that retired angle no one
passed. Suddenly her sharp eyes espied a brickbat. She set it up on
end beside the pump, mounted it, stood on tip-toe, and, stretching her
little body to the very uttermost, tipped the letter safely in. The
brickbat tipped over at the same instant and sent her headlong to the
ground. But this was no novelty to Tottie. Regardless of the fall, she
gathered herself up, and, with the light heart of one who has gained a
victory in the performance of duty, ran off to her miserable home in the
back slums.