"I hope the fellows will be grateful for it, old man; they ought to be.
Never mind, I'm certain we shall pull through it some day. We must hope
for the best, anyhow."
And with a brotherly grip of the hand they turned over and went to
sleep.
Reginald presented himself at the _Rocket_ next morning in an unusual
state of trepidation. He had half made up his mind to march straight to
the manager's room and tell him boldly what had happened, and take his
discharge from him. But Horace dissuaded him.
"After all," he said, "Durfy may think better of it."
"Upon my word I hardly know whether I want him to," said Reginald,
"except for young Gedge's sake and mother's. Anyhow, I'll wait and see,
if you like."
Mr Durfy was there when he arrived, bearing no traces of last night's
_fracas_, except a scowl and a sneer, which deepened as he caught sight
of his adversary. Reginald passed close to his table, in order to give
him an opportunity of coming to the point at once; but to his surprise
the overseer took no apparent notice of him, and allowed him to go to
his place and begin work as usual.
"I'd sooner see him tearing his hair than grinning like that," said
young Gedge, in a whisper. "You may be sure there's something in the
wind."
Whatever it was, Mr Durfy kept his own counsel, and though Reginald
looked up now and then and caught him scowling viciously in his
direction, he made no attempt at hostilities, and rather appeared to
ignore him altogether.
Even when he was giving out the "copy" he sent Reginald his by a boy,
instead of, as was usually his practice, calling him up to the table to
receive it. Reginald's copy on this occasion consisted of a number of
advertisements, a class of work not nearly as easy and far less
interesting than the paragraphs of news which generally fell to his
share. However, he attacked them boldly, and, unattractive as they
were, contrived to get some occupation from them for his mind as well as
his hand.
Here, for instance, was some one who wanted "a groom, young, good-
looking, and used to horses." How would that suit him? And why need he
be good-looking? And what was the use of saying he must be used to
horses? Who ever heard of a groom that wasn't? The man who put in that
advertisement was a muff. Here was another of a different sort:
"J.S. Come back to your afflicted mother and all shall be forgiven."
Heigho! suppose "J.S." had got a mother like Mrs Cruden, what a brute
he must be to cut away. What had he been doing to her? robbing her? or
bullying her? or what? Reginald worked himself into a state of wrath
over the prodigal, and very nearly persuaded himself to leave out the
promise of forgiveness altogether.
"If the young gentleman who dropped an envelope in the Putney omnibus on
the evening of the 6th instant will apply to B, at 16, Grip Street, he
may hear of something to his advantage."
How some people were born to luck! Think of making your fortune by
dropping an envelope in a Putney omnibus. How gladly he would pave the
floor of every omnibus he rode in with envelopes if only he could
thereby hear anything to his advantage! He had a great mind to stroll
round by Number 16, Grip Street that evening to see who this mysterious
"B" could be.
"To intelligent young men in business.--Add £50 a year to your income
without any risk or hindrance whatever to ordinary work.--Apply
confidentially to Omega, 13, Shy Street, Liverpool, with stamp for
reply. None but respectable intelligent young men need apply."
Hullo! Reginald laid down his composing-stick and read the
advertisement over again: and after that he read it again, word by word,
most carefully. £50 a year! Why, that was as much again as his present
income, and without risk or interfering with his present work too!
Well, his present work might be his past work to-morrow; but even so,
with £50 a year he would be no worse off, and of course he could get
something else to do as well by way of ordinary work. If only he could
bring in £100 a year to the meagre family store! What little luxuries
might it not procure for his mother! What a difference it might make in
that dreary, poky Dull Street parlour, where she sat all day! Or if
they decided not to spend it, but save it up, think of a pound a week
ready against a rainy day! Reginald used to have loose enough ideas of
the value of money; but the last few weeks had taught him lessons, and
one of them was that a pound a week could work wonders.
"Apply confidentially." Yes, of course, or else any duffer might snatch
at the prize. It was considerate, too, to put it that way, for of
course it would be awkward for any one in a situation to apply unless he
could do it confidentially--and quite right too to enclose a stamp for a
reply. No one who wasn't in earnest would do so, and thus it would keep
out fellows who applied out of mere idle curiosity. "None but
respectable intelligent young men need apply." Humph! Reginald's
conscience told him he was respectable, and he hoped he was also
moderately intelligent, though opinions might differ on that point.
"Omega"--that sounded well! The man knew Greek--possibly he was a
classical scholar, and therefore sure to be a gentleman. Oh, what a
contrast to the cad Durfy! "Liverpool." Ah, there was the one
drawback; and yet of course it did not follow the £50 a year was to be
earned in Liverpool, otherwise how could it fail to interfere with
ordinary business? Besides, why should he advertise in the _Rocket_
unless he meant to get applications from Londoners?
Altogether Reginald was pleased with the advertisement. He liked the
way it was put, and the conditions it imposed, and, indeed, was so much
taken up with the study of it that he almost forgot to set it up in
type.
"Whatever are you dreaming about?" said young Gedge. "You've stood like
that for a quarter of an hour at least. You'll have Durfy after you if
you don't mind."
The name startled Reginald into industry, and he set the advertisement
up very clearly and carefully, and re-read it once or twice in the type
before he could make up his mind to go on to the next.
The thought of it haunted him all day. Should he tell Horace, or Gedge,
or his mother of it? Should he go and give Durfy notice then and there?
No, he would reply to it before he told any one; and then, if the
answer _was_ unsatisfactory--which he could not think possible--then no
one would be the wiser or the worse for it.
The day flew on leaden wings. Gedge put his friend's silence down to
anxiety as to the consequences of yesterday's adventure and did and said
what he could to express his sympathy. Mr Durfy alone, sitting at his
table, and directing sharp glances every now and then in his direction,
could guess the real meaning of his pre-occupation, and chuckled to
himself as he saw it.
Reginald spent threepence on his way home that evening--one in procuring
a copy of the _Rocket_, and two on a couple of postage-stamps. Armed
with these he walked rapidly home with Horace, giving him in an absent
sort of way a chronicle of the day's doings, but breathing not a word to
him or his mother subsequently about the advertisement.
After supper he excused himself from joining in the usual walk by saying
he had a letter to write, and for the first time in his life felt
relieved to see his mother and brother go and leave him behind them.
Then he pulled out the newspaper and eagerly read the advertisement once
more in print. There it was, not a bit changed! Lots of fellows had
seen it by this time, and some of them very likely were at this moment
answering it. They shouldn't get the start of him, though!