We left Reginald in a somewhat comfortable frame of mind after his
interview with the pleasant clergyman and the stroke of business he had
transacted on behalf of the Corporation. It had been refreshing to him
to converse in terms of peace with any fellow-mortal; and the ready
satisfaction of this visitor with the method of business adopted by the
Company went far to dispel the uneasy impressions which Mrs Wrigley's
visit had left earlier in the day.
After all, he felt that he was yet on probation. When Christmas came,
and he was able to discuss matters personally with the directors, he had
no doubt his position would be improved. He flattered himself they
might think he was useful enough to be worth while keeping; and in that
case of course he would have a right to ask to be put on rather more
comfortable a footing than he possessed at present, and to be entrusted
with a certain amount of control over the business of the Corporation.
He would also be able mildly to suggest that it would be more convenient
to him to receive his salary monthly than quarterly, so as to enable him
not only to live respectably himself, as became their secretary, but
also to give regular help to his mother at home. As it was, with a
beggarly thirteen shillings a week to live on, he was little better than
a common office-boy, he would have said to himself, but at that
particular moment the door opened, and the very individual whom his
thoughts connected with the words appeared before him.
It was the very last apparition Reginald could have looked for. He had
given up all idea of seeing the young desperado any more.
Though he could not exactly say, "Poverty had come in at the door and
Love had flown out of the window"--for the young gentleman had departed
by the door--he yet had made up his mind that Cupid had taken to himself
wings and flown away, with no intention of ever returning to the scene
of his late struggle.
But a glance at the starved, emaciated figure before him explained very
simply the mystery of this strange apparition. The boy's hands and lips
were blue with cold, and his cheek-bones seemed almost to protrude
through his pallid, grimy cheeks. He looked, in fact, what he was, the
picture of misery, and he had no need of any other eloquence to open the
heart of his late "governor."
"Say, what's yer name," he said, in a hollow imitation of his old voice,
"beg yer pardon, gov'nor--won't do it no more if yer overlook it this
time."
"Come in out of the cold and warm yourself by the fire," said Reginald,
poking it up to a blaze.
The boy obeyed, half timidly. He seemed to be not quite sure whether
Reginald was luring him in to his own destruction. But at any rate the
sight of the fire roused him to heroism, and, reckless of all
consequences, he walked in.
"Don't do nothink to me this time, gov'nor," whimpered he, as he got
within arm's length; "let us off, do you hear? this time."
"Poor boy," said Reginald kindly, putting a stool for him close beside
the fire; "I'm not going to do anything but warm you. Sit down, and
don't be afraid."
The boy dropped almost exhausted on the stool, and gazed in a sort of
rapture into the fire. Then, looking up at Reginald, he said,--
"Beg your pardon, gov'nor,--ain't got a crust of bread you don't want,
'ave yer?"
The hint was quite enough to send Reginald flying to his little
"larder."
The boy devoured the bread set before him with a fierceness that looked
as if he had scarcely touched food since he had gone away. He made
clear decks of all Reginald had in the place; and then, slipping off the
stool, curled himself up on the floor before the fire like a dog, and
dropped off into a heavy sleep. Reginald took the opportunity to make a
hurried excursion to the nearest provision shop to lay in what store his
little means would allow. He might have spared himself the trouble of
locking the door behind him, though, for on his return the boy had never
stirred.
The little sleeper lay there all night, until, in fact, the coals could
hold out no longer, and the fire went out. Then Reginald woke him and
carried him off to his own bed, where he dropped off into another long
sleep which lasted till midday. After partaking of the meal his
benefactor had ready for him on waking, he seemed more like himself, and
disposed to make himself useful.
"Ain't got no envellups to lick, then?" said he, looking round the
deserted room.
"No, there's nothing to do here just now," said Reginald.