It was in anything but exuberant spirits that the two Crudens presented
themselves on the following morning at the workman's entrance of the
_Rocket_ Newspaper Company, Limited. The bell was beginning to sound as
they did so, and their enemy the timekeeper looked as though he would
fain discover a pretext for pouncing on them and giving them a specimen
of his importance. But even his ingenuity failed in this respect, and
as Horace passed him with a good-humoured nod, he had, much against his
will, to nod back, and forego his amiable intentions.
The brothers naturally turned their steps to the room presided over by
Mr Durfy. That magnate had not yet arrived, much to their relief, and
they consoled themselves in his absence by standing at the table
watching their fellow-workmen as they crowded in and proceeded with more
or less alacrity to settle down to their day's work.
Among those who displayed no unseemly haste in applying themselves to
their tasks was Barber, who, with the dust of the back case-room still
in his mind, and equally on his countenance, considered the present
opportunity of squaring up accounts with Reginald too good to be
neglected. For reasons best known to himself, Mr Barber determined
that his victim's flagellation should be moral rather than physical. He
would have liked to punch Reginald's head, or, better still, to have
knocked Reginald's and Horace's heads together. But he saw reasons for
denying himself that pleasure, and fell back on the more ethereal
weapons of his own wit.
"Hullo, puddin' 'ead," he began, "'ow's your pa and your ma to-day?
Find the Old Bailey a 'ealthy place, don't they?"
Reginald favoured the speaker by way of answer with a stare of mingled
scorn and wrath, which greatly elevated that gentleman's spirits.
"'Ow long is it they've got? Seven years, ain't it? My eye, they won't
know you when they come out, you'll be so growed."
The wrath slowly faded from Reginald's face, as the speaker proceeded,
leaving only the scorn to testify to the interest he took in this
intellectual display.
Horace, delighted to see there was no prospect of a "flare-up," smiled,
and began almost to enjoy himself.
"I say," continued Barber, just a little disappointed to find that his
exquisite humour was not as electrical in its effect as it would have
been on any one less dense than the Crudens, "'ow is it you ain't got a
clean collar on to-day, and no scent on your 'andkerchers--eh?"
This was getting feeble. Even Mr Barber felt it, for he continued, in
a more lively tone,--
"Glad we ain't got many of your sickening sort 'ere; snivelling school-
boy brats, that's what you are, tired of pickin' pockets, and think
you're goin' to show us your manners. Yah! if you wasn't such a dirty
ugly pair of puppy dogs I'd stick you under the pump--so I would."
Reginald yawned, and walked off to watch a compositor picking up type
out of a case. Horace, on the other hand, appeared to be deeply
interested in Mr Barber's eloquent observations, and inquired quite
artlessly, but with a twinkle in his eye,--"Is the pump near here? I
was looking for it everywhere yesterday."
It was Mr Barber's turn to stare. He had not expected this, and he did
not like it, especially when one or two of the men and boys near, who
had failed to be convulsed by his wit, laughed at Horace's question.
After all, moral flagellation does not always answer, and when one of
the victims yawns and the other asks a matter-of-fact questions it is
disconcerting even to an accomplished operator. However, Barber
gallantly determined on one more effort.
"Ugh--trying to be funny, are you, Mr Snubnose? Best try and be honest
if you can, you and your mealy-mug brother. It'll be 'ard work, I know,
to keep your 'ands in your own pockets, but you'd best do it, do you
'ear--pair of psalm-singin' twopenny-ha'penny puppy dogs!"
This picturesque peroration certainly deserved some recognition, and
might possibly have received it, had not Mr Durfy's entrance at that
particular moment sent the idlers back suddenly to their cases.
Reginald, either heedless of or unconcerned at the new arrival, remained
listlessly watching the operations of the compositor near him, an act of
audacity which highly exasperated the overseer, and furnished the key-
note for the day's entertainment.
For Mr Durfy, to use an expressive term, had "got out of bed the wrong
side" this morning. For the matter of that, after the blowing-up about
the back case-room, he had got into it the wrong side last night, so
that he was doubly perturbed in spirit, and a short conversation he had
just had with the manager below had not tended to compose him.
"Durfy," said that brusque official, as the overseer passed his open
door, "come in. What about those two lads I sent up to you yesterday?
Are they any good?"
"Not a bit," growled Mr Durfy; "fools both of them."
"Which is the bigger fool?"
"The old one."
"Then keep him for yourself--put him to composing, and send the other
one down here. Send him at once, Durfy, do you hear?"
With this considerately worded injunction in his ears it is hardly to be
wondered at that Mr Durfy was not all smiles as he entered the domain
which owned his sway.
His eye naturally lit on Reginald as the most suitable object on which
to relieve his feelings.
"Now, then, there," he called out. "What do you mean by interfering
with the men in their work?"
"I'm not interfering with anybody," said Reginald, looking up with
glowing cheeks, "I'm watching this man."
"Come out of it, do you hear me? Why don't you go about your own work?"
"I've been waiting here ten-minutes for you."
"Look here," said Mr Durfy, his tones getting lower as his passion
rose; "if you think we're going to keep you here to give us any of your
impudence you're mistaken; so I can tell you. It's bad enough to have a
big fool put into the place for charity, without any of your nonsense.
If I had my way I'd give you your beggarly eighteen shillings a week to
keep you away. Go to your work."
Reginald's eyes blazed out for a moment on the speaker in a way which
made Horace, who heard and saw all, tremble. But he overcame himself
with a mighty effort, and said,--
"Where?"
Mr Durfy glanced round the room.
"Young Gedge!" he called out.
A boy answered the summons.
"Clear that rack between you and Barber, and put up a pair of cases for
this fool here, and look after him. Off you go! and off _you_ go,"
added he, rounding on Reginald, "and if we don't make it hot for you
among us I'm precious mistaken."
It was a proud moment certainly for the cock of the fifth at Wilderham
to find himself following meekly at the heels of a youngster like Gedge,
who had been commissioned to put him to work and look after him. But
Reginald was too sick at heart and disgusted to care what became of
himself, as long as Mr Durfy's odious voice ceased to torment his ears.
The only thing he did care about was what was to become of Horace. Was
he to be put in charge of some one too, or was he to remain a printer's
devil?
Mr Durfy soon answered that question.
"What are you standing there for?" demanded he, turning round on the
younger brother as soon as he had disposed of the elder. "Go down to
the manager's room at once; you're not wanted here."
So they were to be separated! There was only time to exchange one
glance of mutual commiseration and then Horace slowly left the room with
sad forebodings, more on his brother's account than his own, and feeling
that as far as helping one another was concerned they might as well be
doomed to serve their time at opposite ends of London.
Gedge, under whose imposing auspices Reginald was to begin his
typographical career, was a diminutive youth who, to all outward
appearances, was somewhere about the tender age of fourteen, instead of,
as was really the case, being almost as old as Reginald himself. He was
facetiously styled "Magog" by his shopmates, in allusion to his small
stature, which required the assistance of a good-sized box under his
feet to enable him to reach his "upper case." His face was not an
unpleasant one, and his voice, which still retained its boyish treble,
was an agreeable contrast to that of most of the "gentlemen of the case"
in Mr Durfy's department.
For all that, Reginald considered himself much outraged by being put in
charge of this chit of a child, and glowered down on him much as a
mastiff might glower on a terrier who presumed to do the honour of his
back yard for his benefit.
However, the terrier in this case was not at all disheartened by his
reception, and said cheerily as he began to clear the frame,--
"You don't seem to fancy it, I say. I don't wonder. Never mind, I
shan't lick you unless you make me."
"Thanks," said Reginald, drily, but scarcely able to conceal a smile at
this magnanimous declaration.
"Magog" worked busily away, putting away cases in the rack, dusting the
frame down with his apron, and whistling softly to himself.
"Thanks for helping me," said he, after a time, as Reginald still stood
by doing nothing. "I could never have done it all by myself."
Reginald blushed a little at this broad hint, and proceeded to lift down
a case. But he nearly upset it in doing so, greatly to his companion's
horror.
"You'd better rest," he said, "you'll be fagged out. Here, let me do
it. There you are. Now we're ready to start you. I've a good mind to
go and get old Tacker to ring up the big bell and let them know you're
just going to begin."
Reginald could hardly be offended at this good-natured banter, and, as
Gedge was after all a decent-looking boy, and aspirated his "h's," and
did not smell of onions, he began to think that if he were doomed to
drudge in this place he might have been saddled with a more offensive
companion.
"It's a pity to put Tacker to the trouble, young 'un," said he; "he'll
probably ring when I'm going to leave off, and that'll do as well."
"That's not bad for you," said Gedge, approvingly; "not half bad. Go on
like that, and you'll make a joke in about a fortnight."
"Look here," said Reginald, smiling at last. "I shall either have to
punch your head or begin work. You'd better decide which you'd like
best."
"Well, as Durfy is looking this way," said Gedge, "I suppose you'd
better begin work. Stick that pair of empty cases up there--the one
with the big holes below and the other one above. You needn't stick
them upside down, though, unless you particularly want to; they look
quite as well the right way. Now, then, you'd better watch me fill
them, and see what boxes the sorts go in. No larks, now. Here goes for
the `m's.'"
So saying, Mr "Magog" proceeded to fill up one box with types of the
letter "m," and another box some distance off with "a's," and another
with "b's," and so on, till presently the lower of the two cases was
nearly full. Reginald watched him with something like admiration,
inwardly wondering if he would ever be able to find his way about this
labyrinth of boxes, and strongly of opinion that only muffs like
printers would think of arranging the alphabet in such an absurdly
haphazard manner. The lower case being full up, Gedge meekly suggested
that as he was yet several feet from his full size, they might as well
lift the upper case down while it was being filled. Which done, the
same process was repeated, only with more apparent regularity, and the
case having been finally tilted up on the frame above the lower case,
the operator turned round with a pleased expression, and said,--
"What do you think of that?"
"Why, I think it's very ridiculous not to put the `capital J' next to
the `capital I,'" said Reginald.
Gedge laughed.
"Go and tell Durfy that; he'd like to hear it."
Reginald, however, denied himself the pleasure of entertaining Mr Durfy
on this occasion, and occupied himself with picking up the types and
inspecting them, and trying to learn the geography of his cases.
"Now," said "Magog," mounting his box, and taking his composing-stick in
his hand, "keep your eye on me, young fellow, and you'll know all about
it."
And he proceeded to "set-up" a paragraph for the newspaper from a
manuscript in front of him at a speed which bewildered Reginald and
baffled any attempt on his part to follow the movements of the
operator's hand among the boxes. He watched for several minutes in
silence until Gedge, considering he had exhibited his agility
sufficiently, halted in his work, and with a passing shade across his
face turned to his companion and said,--
"I say, isn't this a beastly place?"
There was something in his voice and manner which struck Reginald. It
was unlike a common workman, and still more unlike a boy of Gedge's size
and age.
"It is beastly," he said.
"I'm awfully sorry for you, you know," continued Gedge, in a half-
whisper, and going on with his work at the same time, "because I guess
it's not what you're used to."
"I'm not used to it," said Reginald.
"Nor was I when I came. My old screw of an uncle took it into his head
to apprentice me here because he'd been an apprentice once, and didn't
see why I should start higher up the ladder than he did. Are you an
apprentice?"
"No, not that I know of," said Reginald, not knowing exactly what he
was.
"Lucky beggar! I'm booked here for nobody knows how much longer. I'd
have cut it long ago if I could. I say, what's your name?"
"Cruden."
"Well, Cruden, I'm precious glad you've turned up. It'll make all the
difference to me. I was getting as big a cad as any of those fellows
there, for you're bound to be sociable. But you're a nicer sort, and
it's a good job for me, I can tell you."
Apart from the flattery of these words, there was a touch of earnestness
in the boy's voice which struck a sympathetic chord in Reginald's
nature, and drew him mysteriously to this new hour-old acquaintance. He
told him of his own hard fortunes, and by what means he had come down to
his present position. Gedge listened to it all eagerly.
"Were you really captain of the fifth at your school?" said he, almost
reverentially. "I say! what an awful drop this must be! You must feel
as if you'd sooner be dead."
"I do sometimes," said Reginald.
"I know I would," replied Gedge, solemnly, "if I was you. Was that
other fellow your brother, then?"
"Yes."
Gedge mused a bit, and then laughed quietly.
"How beautifully you two shut up Barber between you just now," he said;
"it's the first snub he's had since I've been here, and all the fellows
swear by him. I say, Cruden, it's a merciful thing for me you've come.
I was bound to go to the dogs if I'd gone on as I was much longer."
Reginald brightened. It pleased him just now to think any one was glad
to see him, and the spontaneous way in which this boy had come under his
wing won him over completely.
"We must manage to stick together," he said. "Horace, you know, is
working in another part of the office. It's awfully hard lines, for we
set our minds on being together. But it can't be helped; and I'm glad,
any way, you're here, young 'un."
The young 'un beamed gratefully by way of response.
The paragraph by this time was nearly set-up, and the conversation was
interrupted by the critical operation of lifting the "matter" from the
stick and transferring it to a "galley," a feat which the experienced
"Magog" accomplished very deftly, and greatly to the amazement of his
companion. Just as it was over, and Reginald was laughingly hoping he
would not soon be expected to arrive at such a pitch of dexterity, Mr
Durfy walked up.
"So that's what you call doing your work, is it? playing the fool, and
getting in another man's way. Is that all you've done?"