ARTHUR THOMPSON.
FROM her chamber in the third story Mrs. Irvington could watch all
the operations of her little workman without being herself seen. For
a time, he took hold in earnest, filling the wagon with the long
splinters and wheeling them away to the cellar. But before the hour was
at an end, he grew quite weary, was longer and longer between every
load and at last ceased altogether.
There was one part of the high board fence which looked out upon the
front street, between Mr. Irvington's house and the next block, and
in this fence there was a knot-hole. There Joseph stood with his eye
against the aperture when one of his companions went by.
Glancing quickly around him to be sure that he was not seen, Jo tapped
on the fence, calling at the same time in a suppressed voice,—
"Arty! Arty Thompson! Look here!"
A little fellow very poorly clad, with a white, peaked face, stopped
suddenly on hearing his name called, but after looking in every
direction and seeing no one likely to speak to him was turning to walk
on, when he heard the voice again.
"Arty, look here! It's me, Jo Hickey, behind the fence. Come up here,
and I'll let you look in!"
"What are you doing in there?"
"I've got a job; and it's fun, I tell you. I'm to have a stunning
breakfast, chops and hot coffee and toast: and when I've carried in
those chips, I'm to have a load of money."
"Oh! Oh! I wish I could get a job! How did you manage it, Jo?"
"How did I? Why I went to the door, you see it there close by you; and
I rang the bell and offered to let myself by the day. The lady was glad
enough to get me."
"I wonder whether any body else has chips to move," said poor Arthur,
"I'd like a job so much; I'm awfully hungry, and then if I got money, I
could buy an orange for mother; she's awful sick to-day."
"Seeing it's you, I'll let you have half of my job; that is, if the
lady will let you in. You can give me three pence, and then you'll have
a heap left. You go right up to the door and pull the bell, and say,—
"'Will you please, mum, give me some work? I want to earn some bread
for my sick mother.'"
From her window, which was open, though the blind was not, Mrs.
Irvington had heard every word of this conversation. She was shocked
at the ready falsehoods of Jo. But then she recollected that he
had probably never received any instruction and did not know how
displeasing such conduct was to a holy God.
It was now within a few minutes of the time when she had promised to go
down, and examine his work. And she was on her way to the cellar when
she met a servant coming to call her to see Arty.
"Will you please, mum, give me a job?" began the poor child, fixing his
hungry eyes on her face.
"What can you do, my little fellow?"
"I can carry chips," he answered, his face crimsoning, for Jo had
charged him to say nothing of their interview.
"How do you know I have any chips to carry?" she inquired, wishing to
see whether he would acknowledge the truth.
He dropped his eyes at once, but presently murmured,—
"I saw them through the hole in your fence."
"Do you like to work?"
"Oh, yes, mum! I'd rather work than beg, but I can't often get a job.
Sometimes I holds a hoss for a gentleman while he goes into a house;
and then I get some chances to run errands, but there's a good many
days I don't. And then I has to go awful hungry, 'less I beg—and mother
allus cries when I has to do that."
"What is your name?"
"Arthur Thompson, mum."
"Well, I will give you a job. But first you shall have some breakfast
because you have told me the truth. Come in," opening the door.
She ordered the cook to set out two plates with cold meat and bread.
And then she went to the cellar to see how far Joseph had advanced with
his job.
On hearing her step, the boy began to load the wagon, working till his
face looked quite red.
But she noticed he did not look up and meet her eye.
"Why, Joseph, are these all you have brought in?" she asked in surprise.
"I've worked hard every minute, mum," was his ready answer.
"Stop! Stop!" she exclaimed. "Did no one ever teach you how wicked it
is to tell a lie? You have wasted more than half your time."
He began to insist that he had not, when she added: "I watched you from
the window; and I heard you talking to Arthur through the knot-hole.
You told him many things which were untrue. So many that I cannot
believe what you said about your father being dead and your mother
blind."
"I didn't see you anywhere," muttered Jo sullenly.
"No, I knew you did not; but I was sewing near the window. You did not
see your Father in heaven, but he too was watching you, and listening
to every word you uttered. Do you know whom I mean?"
"No, mum, I don't know nothing what you are talking about. If you
aren't going to pay me, I want to go. I aren't used to being watched
every minute, and I don't like it."
"Come in now, and have some breakfast, afterwards I will talk more with
you."
While the boys were enjoying the first hearty meal they had eaten for
many a day, Mrs. Irvington went up to her husband's office, a small
room at the end of the hall, and seated herself by his desk to reflect
upon the character of the two boys, and resolve what to do with them.
"I was sure," she afterwards told her husband, "that Joseph and Arthur,
though companions in poverty, had been differently trained at home.
Joseph, as near as I could judge, was a lazy beggar, untruthful and
impudent, while Arthur was his exact opposite. But I said to myself,
'If Joseph is bad, there is so much the more reason that I should try
to do him good. I will keep him to-day at any rate; and I will keep
them both at work.'"
Returning to the kitchen, she found the boys had cleared the plates,
and the cook was washing them. Arthur had a large piece of bread in his
hand, and walking toward the lady asked eagerly,—
"May I have this, mum, to carry home? I'm not hungry now, but mother
is, and she's sick too."
"Yes, Arthur, you may have the bread. But did not I hear you saying you
would like to buy her an orange?"
"Yes, mum, if I could get a job, and earn some money, I'd buy her an
orange, 'cause she says the juice would taste so good."
"Where does your mother live?"
"In Alcott Street, mum, up three flights."
After a moment's reflection, the lady said, "I will go with you. Now,
Joseph, you may return to your work."