HOW I WAS CURED OF MY AILMENTS, AND HOW MY MASTER BEGAN LIFE AT
RANDLEBURY.
All this while Tom Drift had said nothing, but had stood regarding first
my master, and then me, with mingled amusement, pity, and astonishment.
At last, when poor Charlie fairly thrust me into his hands, that he
might see with his own eyes the calamity which had befallen the watch
that had been destined to minister such consolation to his time-
inquiring mind, he took me gingerly, and stared at me as if I had been a
toad or a dead rat.
"Can't you make it go, Tom Drift? Please do."
"How can I make him go? I don't know what's the row."
"Do you think it would be a good thing to wind it up?" asked Charlie.
"Don't know; you might try."
Charlie did wind me up; but that was not what I wanted. Already I had
had that done while waiting at Gunborough Junction.
"What do you say to shaking him?" asked Tom Drift presently. Most
people spoke of me as "it," but Tom Drift always called me "him."
"I hardly like," said Charlie; "_you_ try."
Tom took me and solemnly shook me; it was no use. I still remained
speechless and helpless.
"Suppose we shove his wheels on?" next suggested that sage philosopher.
Charlie demurred a little at this; it seemed almost too bold a remedy,
even for him; however he yielded to Tom's superior judgment.
The heir of the house of Drift accordingly took a pin from the lining of
his jacket, and, taking off my coat and waistcoat, proceeded first to
prod one of my wheels and then another, but in vain. They just moved
for an instant but then halted again, as stiff end lifeless as ever.
For a moment the profound Tom seemed baffled, and then at last a
brilliant idea occurred to him.
"I tell you what, I expect he's got damp, or cold, or something. We'd
better warm him!"
And the two boys knelt before the fire with me between them, turning me
at the end of my chain so as to get the warmth on all sides, like a leg
of mutton on a spit.
Of course that had no effect. What was to be done? No winding up, no
shaking, no irritation of my wheels with a pin, no warming of me at the
fire, could avail anything. They were ready to give me up. Suddenly,
however, Tom, who had been examining my face minutely, burst into a loud
laugh.
"What a young donkey you are!" he cried. "Don't you see his hands are
caught? That's what's the matter. The minute-hand's got bent, and
can't get over the hour hand. You're a nice chap to have a watch!"
It might have occurred to Charlie (as it did to me) that whatever sort
of watch-owner the former might be, a boy who successively shook,
tickled, and roasted me to get me to go, was hardly the one to lecture
him on his failings; but my master was too delighted at the prospect of
having his treasure cured to be very critical of the physician. And
this time, at last, Tom Drift had found the real cause of my
indisposition. In endeavouring to pass one another at half-past six, my
two hands had become entangled, and refusing to proceed in company, had
stopped where they were stopping my circulation and indeed my animation
at the same time.
Once more the astute Tom produced his pin; and sticking it under the end
of my minute-hand, disengaged it from its fellow and bent it back into
its proper position. Instantly, as if by magic, the life rushed back
into my body; my circulation started afresh, and my heart beat its old
beat. Charlie set up a shout of jubilation, and almost hugged Tom in
his gratitude. The latter looked very wise and very condescending--as
had he not a right?--and, handing me back to my master, said, with the
air of a physician prescribing a course of treatment for a convalescent
patient,--
"You'd better shove him on to the right time, and then keep him quiet,
young un."
This Charlie did, and it would be hard to say which of us two was the
happier at that moment.
I had scarcely been deposited once more into my accustomed pocket, when
a loud bell sounded down the corridors, and made Tom Drift jump as if he
had been shot.
"I say, that's the prayer-bell! Come on! unless you want to get into a
jolly row."
And without further words he seized the astonished Charlie by the arm,
and ran with him at full speed along one or two empty passages, dashing
at last in through a big door, which was in the very act of closing as
the two reached it.
Charlie was so confused, and so out of breath with this astonishing and
frantic race, that for a minute he did not know whether he was standing
on his head or his heels.
There was, however, no time for solving the problem just then, for Tom
Drift, still retaining his grasp on his arm, dragged him forward,
whispering,--
"This way; wasn't that a close shave? Get in here, and don't make a
noise."
Charlie obeyed, and found himself in a pew, one of a congregation of
some two hundred boys, assembled in the school chapel for evening
prayers. At the far end of the chapel he could hear a man's voice,
reading; but what it said it was impossible for him to make out, owing
to the talking that was going on around him.
He looked eagerly and curiously down the long rows of his new
schoolfellows, feeling half afraid at the sight of so many new faces,
and half proud of being a Randlebury boy, with a right to a seat in the
chapel. And as he looked he saw some faces he thought he should like,
and some that he thought he would dislike; there were merry, bright-eyed
boys, like himself, and there were ill-tempered, sullen-looking boys;
there were boys haggard with hard-reading, and boys who looked as if
their heads were altogether empty.
But what puzzled and troubled Charlie not a little was to notice, that
though the school was supposed to be at prayers, and though most of them
must have been within hearing of the reader's voice, a considerable
proportion of the boys before him were neither listening nor evincing in
their behaviour the slightest sign of reverence for the service in which
they were engaged.
He was sorry to see that Tom Drift was laughing and whispering with his
companions; entertaining them with an account of the way in which he had
set the new "young un's" watch to rights, and what a shave they had from
being shut out from prayers. (Charlie wondered, as he noticed all this,
whether, after all, he would have lost much good if that misfortune had
happened.) And one or two boys were chewing toffee; at least, Charlie
thought it must be toffee, their mouths were so brown, and they made
such a noise over the process of mastication; some, with their hands in
their pockets, were listlessly staring up at the roof; and some were
reading books, anything but prayer-books, under the desk.
Charlie did his best to attend to what the invisible and inarticulate
voice was saying, and tried to recall what his father had told him about
not letting new scenes and new companions tempt him to forget of neglect
the lessons of duty and religion which he had learned at his parents'
home; but it was not easy work, and to him it was a relief when all was
over, and the boys proceeded to file out of the chapel.
"Where are they all going?" he inquired, turning round to where Tom
Drift had been standing.
That young man, however, was no longer there. He had gone off to enjoy
the questionable luxury of roast potatoes in a friend's study, entirely
forgetting his young and forlorn charge.
Charlie was puzzled. He was sure he could never find his way back to
Mrs Packer's through such a maze of passages, and he knew not where
else to go.
As he stood watching in despair the last remnant of his fellow-
worshippers passing out, and wondering what was to become of him, he
became aware of two big boys stopping in front of him and looking at
him.
"That's him!" said one, whose grammar was perhaps not his strongest
point at this moment.
"Why, he's only a kid!" said the other, who, being sixteen, felt fully
justified in so designating my young master.
"I can't help that, I know it's him," said the first.
"I say, you fellow," added he, addressing Charlie, "wasn't it you drove
up to the front door in a cab this afternoon?"
Charlie trembled in his shoes. More than once had his heart misgiven
him, he had committed an unpardonable offence in the mode of his advent
to Randlebury; and now, with these two awful accusers before him, he
felt as if his doom was come.
"I'm very sorry," he began; "yes, it was--I didn't mean, I'm sure."
"What did you do it for, if you didn't mean, you young muff?--why don't
you go off to bed?"
"Because I don't know where to go, and Tom Drift--"
"Do you know Tom Drift?"
"Yes--that is, I met his mother," stammered Charlie, becoming more and
more embarrassed.
Both the big boys burst out laughing. "What a treat for his mother!"
said one. "I suppose she told you Tom was a real nice boy?"
"Yes."
"I thought so; so he is, isn't he, Joe?" and both boys laughed again.
"And she gave you a kiss to take to him?"
"No," said Charlie, blushing scarlet; "she did give me a kiss, but not
for him."
It was a hard effort for the poor boy to come out with this admission,
but candour compelled it.
"Oh, she gave you one for yourself, did she?" and again they laughed.
"What a dear old noodle she must be!"
"She was very kind to me," said Charlie, not liking to hear his friend
made fun of.
Just then a master came by.
"What are you three boys doing here?" he asked.
"Please, sir, this is a new boy," replied he who had been called Joe,
"and he doesn't know where to go."
"Hum!" said the master, "I thought Mrs Packer would have seen after
that. Let me see. You had better take him to your dormitory to-night,
Halliday; there's a vacant bed there. Bring him to the doctor's room
after breakfast to-morrow," and he passed on.
"Here's a treat!" exclaimed Joe, with a not ill-natured grin. "This
comes of stopping and talking to young scarecrows. Come along,
youngster; think yourself lucky you've been handed over to me. I wear
patent leather boots, and they don't need as much blacking as some of
the fellows'."
Charlie was at a loss to understand what the material of Master
Halliday's boots had to do with his own alleged good fortune in falling
into the hands of such a guardian; but he said nothing, and, reassured
by the good-humoured face of his conductor, followed him cheerfully from
the chapel.
"Hullo, Joe! got a donkey at last?" cried some one, as the two wended
their way up the stairs leading to the dormitories.
"Looks like it," was Joe's reply.
It was not very long before Charlie learned that the four-footed beast
thus vaguely referred to was a polite term which the big boys at
Randlebury used to designate their fags.
"Come in here," said his conductor, turning in at a small door.
Charlie found himself inside a small apartment, measuring about ten feet
square, lighted by a small window, warmed by a small fire, decorated
with a small bookcase, and furnished with a small table, two small
chairs, and a small cupboard.
"This is my den; and mind when you clean the window you don't crack that
pane more than it is; and when you brush my things, you know, see the
shelf isn't dirty, because I sometimes keep my worms there--do you hear?
And now come along to bed; they put out lights at half-past nine."
The mention of the time recalled me instinctively to Charlie's thoughts.
He could not resist the temptation, suggested half by anxiety and half
by vanity, of taking me out and looking at me.
"Hullo! What, have you got a watch?"
"Yes," said Charlie meekly, not exactly knowing whether his companion
would be admiring or indignant with him.
"More than I have," was all Joe's rejoinder.
Charlie's generosity was at once touched.
"Oh, never mind, we can go shares sometimes, if you like, you know,"
said he, not without an effort.
"I don't want your watch," was Master Halliday's somewhat ungracious
reply. "Let's have a look at it, will you?"
He took me, and examined me; and evidently would not have objected to be
the possessor of a watch himself, though he tried to make it appear it
was a matter of indifference to him.
"Why don't you get your father to give you one?" asked Charlie
innocently.
"Because I haven't got a father."
"Not got a father! Oh, I am sorry!" and the starting tears in the
little fellow's eyes testified only too truly to his sincerity. "Look
here," he added, "do take the watch, please; perhaps you would like it,
and my father would give me another."
Joe Halliday gazed at his young fag in amazement.
"Why, you are a queer chap," he said. "I wouldn't take your watch for
anything; but I tell you what, I'll ask you the time whenever I want to
know."
"Will you really?" cried the delighted Charlie. "How jolly!"
"And look here," continued Halliday, "take my advice, and don't go
offering your watch to everybody who hasn't got a father, or some of
them might take you at your word, and then you'd look foolish. Come
along now."
And he led the boy into the dormitory, where there were about twenty
beds, most of them already occupied by boys, and the rest waiting for
occupants, who were rapidly undressing in different parts of the room.
"Look sharp and tumble in," said Joe, pointing out the bed Charlie was
to have. "There's only five minutes more."
Charlie, with all the naturalness of innocence, knelt, as he was always
used to do, and said his prayers, adding a special petition for his dear
absent parents, and another for the poor boy who hadn't got a father.
He was wholly unaware of the curiosity he had excited by his entrance
into the dormitory, still less did he imagine the sensation which his
simple act of devotion was creating. Twenty pairs of eyes stared at the
unwonted spectacle of a boy saying his prayers, and many were the
whispered comments which passed from lip to lip. No one however (had
any been so inclined) stirred either to disturb or molest him--an
immunity secured to him as much perhaps by the fact of his being under
the protection of so redoubtable a champion as Halliday as by any
special feeling of sympathy for his act.
The good example was not, however, wholly lost, for that same night,
after the lights were out, and when silence reigned in the room, more
than one boy covered his head with his sheet and tried to recall one of
the early prayers of his childhood.
As for Charlie, with me and the knife under his pillow, he slept the
sleep of the just, and dreamt of home; and I can answer for it his weary
head never turned once the livelong night.