"I'm going to turn over a new leaf this very day, Cruden. I've told the
errand-boy he's not to get me any beer, and I'm determined next time
that beast Durfy asks me to go--"
"What!" exclaimed Reginald; "was it with him you used to go?"
"Yes. I know you'll think all the worse of me for it, after the
blackguard way he's got on to you. You see, before you came I didn't
like--that is, I couldn't well refuse him; he'd have made it so hot for
me here. I fancy he found out I had some pocket-money of my own, for he
generally picked on me to come and have drinks with him, and of course I
had to pay. Why, only last night--look out, here he comes!"
Sure enough he was, and in his usual amiable frame of mind.
"Oh, there you are, are you?" he said to Reginald, with a sneer. "Do
you know where the lower-case `x' is now, eh?"
Reginald, swelling with the indignation Gedge's story had roused in him,
turned his back and made no answer.
Nothing, as he might have known by this time, could have irritated Mr
Durfy more.
"Look here, young gentleman," said the latter, coming close up to
Reginald's side and hissing the words very disagreeably in his ear,
"when I ask a question in this shop I expect to get an answer; mind
that. And what's more, I'll have one, or you leave this place in five
minutes. Come, now, give me a lower-case `x.'"
Reginald hesitated a moment. Suppose Mr Durfy had it in him to be as
good as his word. What then about young Gedge?
He picked up an "x" sullenly, and tossed it at the overseer's feet.
"That's not giving it to me," said the latter, with a sneer of triumph
already on his face. "Pick it up directly, do you hear? and give it to
me."
Reginald stood and glared first at Mr Durfy, then at the type.
Yesterday he would have defiantly told him to pick it up himself, caring
little what the cost might be. But things had changed since then.
Humiliating as it was to own it, he could not afford to be turned off.
His pride could not afford it, his care for young Gedge could not afford
it, the slender family purse could not afford it. Why ever did he not
think of it all before, and spare himself this double indignity?
With a groan which represented as much inward misery and humiliation as
could well be compressed into a single action, he stooped down and
picked up the type and handed it to Mr Durfy.
It was well for him he did not raise his eyes to see the smile with
which that gentleman received it.
"Next time it'll save you trouble to do what you're told at once, Mr
Puppy," he said. "Get on with your work, and don't let me catch you
idling your time any more."
And he walked off crowned with victory and as happy in his mind as if he
had just heard of the decease of his enemy the manager.
It was a bad beginning to the day for Reginald. He had come to work
that morning in a virtuous frame of mind, determined, if possible, to do
his duty peaceably and to hold out a helping hand to young Gedge. It
was hard enough now to think of anything but his own indignities and the
wretch to whom he owed them.
He turned to his work almost viciously, and for an hour buried himself
in it, without saying a word or lifting his eyes from his case. Then
young Gedge, stealing a nervous glance at his face, ventured to say,--
"I say, Cruden, I wish I could stand things like you. I don't know what
I should have done if that blackguard had treated me like that."
"What's the use?" said Reginald. "He wants to get rid of me, and I'm
not going to let him."
"I'm jolly glad of it for my sake. I wish I could pay him out for you."
"So you can."
"How?"
"Next time he wants you to go and drink, say No," said Reginald.
"Upon my word I will," said Gedge; "and I don't care how hot he makes it
for me, if you stick by me, Cruden."
"You know I'll stick by you, young 'un," said Reginald; "but that won't
do you much good, unless you stick by yourself. Suppose Durfy managed
to get rid of me after all--"
"Then I should go to--to the dogs," said Gedge, emphatically.
"You're a greater fool than I took you for, then," said Reginald. "If
you only knew," he added more gently, "what a job it is to do what's
right myself, and how often I don't do it, you'd see it's no use
expecting me to be good for you and myself both."
"What on earth am I to do, then? I'm certain I can't keep square
myself; I never could. Who's to look after me if you don't?"
Like a brave man, Reginald, shy and reserved as he was, told him.
I need not repeat what was said that morning over the type cases. It
was not a sermon, nor a catechism; only a few stammering laboured words
spoken by a boy who felt himself half a hypocrite as he said them, and
who yet, for the affection he bore his friend, had the courage to go
through with a task which cost him twenty times the effort of rescuing
the boy yesterday from his bodily peril.
Little good, you will say, such a sermon from such a perverse, bad-
humoured preacher as Reginald Cruden, could do! Very likely, reader;
but, after all, who are you or I to say so? Had any one told Reginald a
week ago what would be taking place to-day, he would have coloured up
indignantly and hoped he was not quite such a prig as all that. As it
was, when it was all over, it was with no self-satisfied smile or inward
gratulation that he returned to his work, but rather with the nervous
uncomfortable misgivings of one who says to himself,--
"After all I may have done more harm than good."
By the end of a fortnight Reginald, greatly to Mr Durfy's
dissatisfaction, was an accomplished compositor. He could set-up almost
as quickly as Gedge, and his "proofs" showed far fewer corrections.
Moreover, as he was punctual in his hours, and diligent at his work, it
was extremely difficult for the overseer or any one else to find any
pretext for abusing him.
It is true, Mr Barber, who had not yet given up the idea of asserting
his moral and intellectual superiority, continued by the ingenious
device of "squabbling" his case, and tampering with the screw of his
composing-stick, and other such pleasing jokes not unknown to printers,
to disconcert the new beginner on one or two occasions. But ever since
Reginald one morning, catching him in the act of mixing up his e's with
his a's, had carried him by the collar of his coat and the belt of his
breeches to the water tank and dipped his head therein three times with
no interval for refreshment between, Mr Barber had moderated his
attentions and become less exuberant in his humour.
With the exception of Gedge, now his fast ally, Reginald's other fellow-
workmen concerned themselves very little with his proceedings. One or
two, indeed, noticing his proficiency, hinted to him that he was a fool
to work for the wages he was getting, and some went so far as to say he
had no right to do so, and had better join the "chapel" to save trouble.
What the "chapel" was Reginald did not trouble even to inquire, and
replied curtly that it was no business of any one else what his wages
were.
"Wasn't it?" said the deputation. "What was to become of them if
fellows did their work for half wages, they should like to know?"
"Are you going off, or must I make you?" demanded Reginald, feeling he
had had enough of it.
And the deputation, remembering Barber's head and the water tank,
withdrew, very much perplexed what to do to uphold the dignity of the
"chapel."
They decided to keep their "eye" on him, and as they were able to do
this at a distance, Reginald had no objection at all to their decision.
He meanwhile was keeping his eye on Gedge and Mr Durfy, and about a
fortnight after his arrival at the _Rocket_, a passage of arms occurred
which, slight as it was, had a serious influence on the future of all
three parties concerned.
The seven o'clock bell had rung, and this being one of Horace's late
evenings, Reginald proposed to Gedge to stroll home with him and call
and see Mrs Cruden.
The boy accepted readily, and the two were starting off arm in arm when
Mr Durfy confronted them. Reginald, who had never met his adversary
beyond the precincts of the _Rocket_ before, did not for a moment
recognise the vulgar, loudly dressed little man, sucking his big cigar
and wearing his pot hat ostentatiously on one side; but when he did he
turned contemptuously aside and said,--
"Come on, young 'un."
"Come on, young 'un!" echoed Mr Durfy, taking his cigar from his mouth
and flicking the ashes in Reginald's direction, "that's just what I was
going to say. Young Gedge, you're coming with me to-night. I've got
orders for the Alhambra, my boy, and supper afterwards."
"Thank you," said Gedge, rather uncomfortably, "it's very kind of you,
Mr Durfy, but I've promised Cruden to go with him."
"Promised Cruden! What do you mean? Cruden'll keep till to-morrow; the
orders won't."
"I'm afraid I can't," said Gedge.
"Afraid! I tell you I don't mean to stand here all night begging you.
Just come along and no more nonsense. We'll have a night of it."
"You must excuse me," said the boy, torn between Reginald on the one
hand and the fear of offending Durfy on the other.
The latter began to take in the position of affairs, and his temper
evaporated accordingly.
"I won't excuse you; that's all about it," he said; "let go that
snivelling lout's arm and do what you're told. Let the boy alone, do
you hear?" added he, addressing Reginald, "and take yourself off. Come
along, Gedge."
"Gedge is not going with you," said Reginald, keeping the boy's arm in
his; "he's coming with me, aren't you, young 'un?"
The boy pressed his arm gratefully, but made no reply.
This was all Mr Durfy wanted to fill up the vials of his wrath.
"You miserable young hound you," said he, with an oath; "let go the boy
this moment, or I'll turn you out of the place--and him too."
Reginald made no reply. His face was pale, but he kept the boy's arm
still fast in his own.
"Going with you, indeed?" shouted Mr Durfy; "going with you, is he? to
learn how to cant and sing psalms! Not if I know it--or if he does, you
and he and your brother and your old fool of a mother--"
Mr Durfy never got to the end of that sentence. A blow straight from
the shoulder of the Wilderham captain sent him sprawling on the pavement
before the word was well out of his mouth.
It had come now. It had been bound to come sooner or later, and
Reginald, as he drew the boy's arm once more under his own, felt almost
a sense of relief as he stood and watched Mr Durfy slowly pick himself
up and collect his scattered wardrobe.
It was some time before the operation was complete, and even then Mr
Durfy's powers of speech had not returned. With a malignant scowl he
stepped up to his enemy and hissed the one menace,--
"All right!" and then walked away.
Reginald waited till he had disappeared round the corner, and then,
turning to his companion, took a long breath and said,--
"Come along, young 'un; it can't be helped."
The reader must forgive me if I ask him to leave the two lads to walk to
Dull Street by themselves, while he accompanies me in the wake of the
outraged and mud-stained Mr Durfy.
That gentleman was far more wounded in his mind than in his person. He
may have been knocked down before in his life, but he had never, as far
as he could recollect, been quite so summarily routed by a boy half his
age earning only eighteen shillings a week! And the conviction that
some people would think he had only got his deserts in what he had
suffered, pained him very much indeed.
He did not go to the Alhambra. His clothes were too dirty, and his
spirits were far too low. He did, in the thriftiness of his soul,
attempt to sell his orders in the crowd at the theatre door. But no one
rose to the bait, so he had to put them back in his pocket on the chance
of being able to "doctor up" the date and crush in with them some other
day. Then he mooned listlessly up and down the streets for an hour till
his clothes were dry, and then turned into a public-house to get a brush
down and while away another hour.
Still the vision of Reginald standing where he had last seen him with
young Gedge at his side haunted him and spoiled his pleasure. He
wandered forth again, feeling quite lonely, and wishing some one or
something would turn up to comfort him. Nor was he disappointed.
"The very chap," said a voice suddenly at his side when he was beginning
to despair of any diversion.
"So it is. How are you, my man? We were talking of you not two minutes
ago."
Durfy pulled up and found himself confronted by two gentlemen, one about
forty and the other a fashionable young man of twenty-five.
"How are you, Mr Medlock?" said he to the elder in as familiar a tone
as he could assume; "glad to see you, sir. How are you, too, Mr
Shanklin, pretty well?"
"Pretty fair," said Mr Shanklin. "Come and have a drink, Durfy. You
look all in the blues. Gone in love, I suppose, eh? or been speculating
on the Stock Exchange? You shouldn't, you know, a respectable man like
you."
"He looks as if he'd been speculating in mud," said Mr Medlock,
pointing to the unfortunate overseer's collar and hat, which still bore
traces of his recent calamity. "Never mind; we'll wash it off in the
Bodega. Come along."
Durfy felt rather shy at first in his grand company, especially with the
consciousness of his muddy collar. But after about half an hour in the
Bodega he recovered his self-possession, and felt himself at home.
"By the way," said Mr Medlock, filling up his visitor's glass, "last
time we saw you you did us nicely over that tip for the Park Races, my
boy! If Alf and I hadn't been hedged close up, we should have lost a
pot of money."
"I'm very sorry," said Durfy. "You see, another telegram came after the
one I showed you, that I never saw; that's how it happened. I really
did my best for you."
"But it's a bad job, if we pay you to get hold of the _Rocket's_
telegrams and then lose our money over it," said Mr Medlock. "Never
mind this time, but you'd better look a little sharper, my boy. There's
the Brummagem Cup next week, you know, and we shall want to know the
latest scratches on the night before. It'll be worth a fiver to you if
you work it well, Durfy. Fill up your glass."
Mr Durfy obeyed, glad enough to turn the conversation from the
miscarriage of his last attempt to filch his employers' telegrams for
the benefit of his betting friends' and his own pocket.
"By the way," said Mr Shanklin, presently, "Moses and I have got a
little Company on hand just now, Durfy. What do you think of that?"
"A company?" said Mr Durfy; "I'll wager it's not a limited one, if
you're at the bottom of it! What's your little game now?"
"It's a little idea of Alf's," said Mr Medlock, whose Christian name
was Moses, "and it ought to come off too. This is something the way of
it. Suppose you were a young greenhorn, Durfy--which I'm afraid you
aren't--and saw an advertisement in the _Rocket_ saying you could make
two hundred and fifty pounds a year easy without interfering with your
business, eh? what would you do?"
"If I was a greenhorn," said Durfy, "I'd answer the advertisement and
enclose a stamped envelope for a reply."
"To be sure you would! And the reply would be, we'd like to have a look
at you, and if you looked as green as we took you for, we'd ask for a
deposit, and then allow you to sell wines and cigars and that sort of
fancy goods to your friends. You'd sell a dozen of port at sixty
shillings, do you see? half the cash down and half on delivery. We'd
send your friend a dozen at twelve and six, and if he didn't shell out
the other thirty bob on delivery, we'd still have the thirty bob he paid
down to cover our loss. Do you twig?"
Durfy laughed. "Do you dream all these things," he said, "or how do you
ever think of them?"
"Genius, my boy; genius," said Mr Medlock. "Of course," he added, "it
couldn't run for long, but we might give it a turn for a month or two."
"The worst of it is," put in Mr Shanklin, "it's a ticklish sort of
business that some people are uncommon sharp at smelling out; one has to
be very careful. There's the advertisement, for instance. You'll have
to smuggle it into the _Rocket_, my boy. It wouldn't do for the
governors to see it; they'd be up to it. But they'd never see it after
it was in, and the _Rocket's_ just the paper for us."
"I'll try and manage that," said Durfy. "You give it me, and I'll stick
it in with a batch of others somehow."
"Alf thinks we'd better do the thing from Liverpool," continued Mr
Medlock, "and all we want is a good secretary--a nice, green, innocent,
stupid, honest young fellow--that's what we want. If we could pick up
one of that sort, there's no doubt of the thing working."
Mr Durfy started and coloured up, and then looked first at Mr Medlock
and then at Mr Shanklin.
"What's the matter? Do you think _you'd_ suit the place?" asked the
former, with a laugh.
"No; but I know who will!"
"You do! Who?"
"A young puppy under me at the _Rocket_?" said Durfy, excitedly; "the
very man to a T!" And he thereupon launched into a description of
Reginald's character in a way which showed that not only was he a shrewd
observer of human nature in his way, but, when it served his purpose,
could see the good even in a man he hated.
"I tell you," said he, "he's born for you, if you can only get him! And
if you don't think so after what I've said, perhaps you'll believe me
when I tell you, on the quiet, he knocked me down in the gutter this
very evening because I wanted to carry off a young convert of his to
make a night of it at the Alhambra. There, what do you think of that?
I wouldn't tell tales of myself like that for fun, I can tell you!"
"There's no mistake about that being the sort of chap we want," said Mr
Medlock.
"If only we can get hold of him," said Mr Shanklin.
"Leave that to me," said Mr Durfy; "only if he comes to you never say a
word about me, or he'll shy off."
Whereupon these three guileless friends finished their glasses and
separated in great good spirits and mutual admiration.