ROBIN'S FIRST EARNINGS
"MOTHER, don't you think Robin must have finished his tea by this time?
Shall I go downstairs and see? Do let me. Miss Maggs says she doesn't
mind my coming into the kitchen."
Gilbert Groves, a handsome, blue-eyed boy, clad in a sailor suit,
turned from the window from which he had been watching the passers-by
as he spoke, and looked at his mother with an eagerness of expression
which brought a smile to her face. The scene was a pleasant upstairs
sitting-room in a lodging-house on the Hoe, facing the sea, where Mrs.
Groves and her little son were waiting for Robin, who was having his
tea downstairs, Miss Maggs, the landlady of the establishment, having
readily consented to his taking that meal in her kitchen.
"Wait a few minutes longer, my dear," Mrs. Groves replied. "I don't
wish the poor child to be hurried, for I daresay he is hungry. How
curious you are to see him, to be sure!"
"You'll let me talk to him, won't you, mother? I want to ask him about
that boy who you said was teasing him and calling him Ragged Robin."
"Oh, yes, you may certainly talk to him. But don't ask him too many
questions to begin with, for I expect he'll be a little shy at first. I
think perhaps now you may see if he is ready."
Gilbert did not wait to hear the conclusion of the sentence, but
darted out of the room and down the stairs at a great rate. This was
Robin's first visit, and as yet Gilbert had not seen him; for, acting
on his mother's instructions, Robin had gone around to the back of the
premises, where he had been admitted into the house by a servant and
given his tea at a table in the kitchen.
Robin had nearly appeased his hunger, and was beginning to feel
somewhat nervous, he scarcely knew why, when the kitchen door opened
to admit a tall, spare, elderly woman, who scrutinised him for several
minutes in silence, and then addressed him:
"Humph!" she ejaculated. "So you're the little boy Mrs. Groves has
engaged for a model, eh? I hope you're as honest as you look."
"I—I hope so, ma'am," stammered Robin, considerably taken aback and
growing crimson as he spoke.
"Have you made a good tea?" she questioned.
"Yes, ma'am, thank you!"
"You needn't thank me, child; I sha'n't be the one to pay for it. It's
Mrs. Groves you have to thank. I'm only Miss Maggs, who keeps this
lodging-house—Eliza Maggs, one of the hardest-worked women in Plymouth.
You come from Sun Court, don't you?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Humph! I've heard of Sun Court—nothing to the credit of the place. And
you've a drunken stepfather, Mrs. Groves tells me. I pity your poor
mother, that I do. Are you her only child?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I hope you'll prove a good son to her. Ah, here comes Master Gilbert
to fetch you! He'll take you upstairs."
Robin rose from his chair as Gilbert appeared, and as he met the glance
of the handsome, well-dressed boy, he felt painfully shy and more than
ever conscious of his shabby clothes. How smart, he thought, was the
navy-blue sailor suit which Gilbert wore!
"You're Robin, I know," said Gilbert, with a most friendly smile. "If
you've quite finished your tea, my mother is ready for you. Are you
sure you have had enough?"
"Oh yes, thank you, that I have," answered Robin.
"Come, then."
Gilbert led the way from the kitchen, and Robin followed him silently
up a flight of steep stairs into the entrance-hall, then up a wider
staircase into Mrs. Groves's sitting-room. The artist greeted her model
with the greatest kindness, and immediately placed him in the position
in which she wished him to stand. Then she turned to her easel and set
to work, whilst Gilbert took up his post at the window and began to
talk volubly, for he was a regular chatterbox. By-and-by he asked Robin
a question; but Robin did not like to answer it, fearing that he might
not be permitted to talk. He looked at Mrs. Groves dubiously, and she
met his glance with an understanding smile.
"I don't want you to be silent, Robin," she told him; "only keep your
present position, that is all."
"I asked you about that boy mother heard teasing you," said Gilbert.
"What is he called, and does he often bully you?"
"He's called Sam Brown, and he leads me a dreadful life sometimes,"
Robin admitted. "He's older and bigger than I am, you see."
"Does he live in Sun Court?" inquired Mrs. Groves.
"No, ma'am, and I'm glad he doesn't."
"I noticed several boys about the entrance of the court on the
afternoon I went to see your mother," remarked Mrs. Groves. "I suppose
some of them are friends of yours?"
"No," Robin replied, shaking his head. "I know them all, but I don't
have much to do with them because it makes mother unhappy if I do.
They use bad language and bet—at least, some of them do. There's one
boy called Dick Farrant who drinks too. He's sixteen years old, but
he doesn't do regular work—just picks up a living about the streets
somehow."
"How can he do that?" inquired Gilbert.
"He'll sell newspapers, or drive cattle, or take around commercial
travellers' samples to the shops on a handcart. Oh, he's always got
money in his pocket, and if he can't earn it, he gets it all the same."
"Not by fair means, I'm afraid," said Mrs. Groves, whilst Gilbert
looked decidedly puzzled.
"No, ma'am," Robin agreed. "That's what mother says. The police keep
a watch on him, people say, but he's never been caught doing anything
wrong yet. He lives in the house opposite ours with his father and
mother and a lot of sisters and brothers; he's the eldest of the family
himself."
"Are his parents respectable people?" asked Mrs. Groves.
"I don't know, ma'am. Mrs. Farrant is a great gossip, and I don't think
she likes mother because mother won't let her come in and chatter
whenever she likes. We have only one friend in Sun Court; he lives next
door to us."
"The old cobbler I saw at work inside the window with the wallflower
on the sill?" questioned Mrs. Groves, her face, which had grown very
serious during the last few minutes, lighting up with a smile.
"Yes, ma'am. Jasper Blamey he's called. He's lived most of his life in
Sun Court, and he's a first-rate cobbler."
"Tell us about him, do," said Gilbert.
Robin complied very willingly, explaining all he knew about the good
old man. Mother and son both listened with great interest, and Robin
was much gratified at being able to entertain them. By-and-by he was
allowed a short rest, during which he joined the other boy at the
window, and their conversation turned to the sea and ships. Gilbert
pointed out the various craft in sight on the water, and told him what
they were.
"You know a lot about ships," remarked Robin, regarding his companion
with growing admiration and respect.
"Oh, yes," Gilbert responded carelessly. "We live at Newlyn, you know,
and that's by the sea. I'm very friendly with an old sailor called
Rodway, and he taught me how to tell the different vessels. A jolly old
chap is Rodway!"
"Rodway!" repeated Robin. "Why, that's my name! Robin Rodway I'm
called."
"Oh, how strange! Old Rodway's called Robin, too! But perhaps you're
related to him?"
"I don't suppose I am."
"Oh, you might be without knowing it. I shall ask him when I get home.
Mother, do you hear that Robin is called Rodway?"
Mrs. Groves acquiesced. She looked thoughtful as she stood surveying
the canvas on the easel; evidently her mind was in her work, and she
was paying little attention to the boys' conversation.
"I should like to be a sailor when I grow up," Gilbert said
confidentially, "but I don't know if I shall be strong enough. I love
the sea."
"I want to be a sailor, too," Robin acknowledged, "but I'm afraid
mother won't like to part with me. Often when father's going on badly I
think I'll run away and go to sea; perhaps I may some day."
"No, no," said Mrs. Groves, "that wouldn't be right. You ought to stay
with your mother and take care of her; besides, you will be too young
to go to sea for a long while. Come, I'm ready for you again."
Robin now returned to his former position. He would have liked to see
how Mrs. Groves was getting on, but she did not offer to let him. At
the end of another hour she laid her brushes aside and told him she
had finished with him for the time; then she took out her purse and
gave him a two-shilling piece, and he left the room the proudest and
happiest boy in Plymouth. Gilbert accompanied him down to the hall, and
said good-bye to him there; after which Robin descended to the kitchen,
where Miss Maggs was cooking at the stove.
"Well, how do you like being a model?" she inquired, turning her hot
face towards him.
"Very well, thank you, ma'am," he replied.
Miss Maggs was a plain woman, with irregular features set in somewhat
grim lines, but the expression of her face was kindly as she surveyed
the little boy with her head on one side.
"You don't look too well fed," she remarked, "and yet you've no sisters
or brothers to share with. Times are hard with you and your mother, I
guess. It's always the way when the head of a family drinks. Here, take
this. I've wrapped it up ready for you. It'll make you a good supper at
any rate." She placed a brown-paper parcel in his hands as she spoke.
"Oh, thank you, ma'am!" he said, gratefully, realising that it was food
she had given him.
"No need to thank me," she replied. "It's the remains of a leg of
mutton which my lodgers won't want sent up again. The maid and I can't
eat all the scraps."
Robin hastened home as quickly as he could, feeling unusually
light-hearted. He found his stepfather had returned from his day's
work, and Mrs. Burt was laying the supper-cloth as he entered the
kitchen. The little boy immediately unwrapped the brown-paper parcel
and exhibited its contents. There was a nice cut of mutton left on
the bone, and Mrs. Burt declared she had the appetite to eat a bit,
whilst her husband, whose face had been looking gloomy, brightened in
anticipation of a good meal.
Richard Burt was by no means a disagreeable man when he had not been
drinking. He was quite sober to-night, so that whilst, during supper,
Robin recounted his experiences of the last few hours, he listened with
every appearance of interest.
"It's easy work being an artist's model, I should think," he remarked
by-and-by; "and good pay, too!"
"Yes, but it's tiring standing still," Robin reminded him. "I got so
stiff and achey, and wasn't I glad to be told that I could move!"
The little boy was rather afraid that his stepfather might want a share
of his earnings, and he was greatly relieved in mind to find he did
not. After supper the master of the house strolled into the court to
converse with some of his neighbours; and then, being alone with his
mother, Robin seized the opportunity to press his two-shilling piece
into her hand.
"No, no, dear!" she cried, expostulatingly. "I cannot take it from you.
You earned it and you must keep it."
"Oh, mother, I would so much rather give it to you!" he declared; and
she saw he meant it. "I want you to have it because it is the first
money I have earned."
She clasped him in her arms and kissed him tenderly, and then she
fetched her workbox from a shelf of the dresser and locked the money
away in it, "for a nest-egg," as she said. This proof of her little
son's love for her touched her very deeply.
"God bless you, my boy!" she said, as she put the workbox back in its
place. "Who is that?" she asked, hearing footsteps close to the window.
"Father, I think," Robin replied. He went to the window and looked out
as he spoke. "Yes, he's just outside," he reported. "Oh, mother, I wish
he was always like he is to-night! If only he would give up drink!"
"That is my constant prayer, Robin; maybe it will be granted some day."