For two days in the year at the annual fair, the quiet little town of Weyn gave itself up to merrymaking. Shows and caravans choked the narrow streets; huge roundabouts as "patronised by all the crowned heads of Europe," swung giddily round in the market-place, and the shouts of the stall-keepers, and the din of the orchestra, and the ceaseless crack of the rifle ranges, where boys were shooting for cocoa-nuts, made a noise that was almost deafening.
The piles of gingerbread and coloured rock on the stalls looked very tempting, and Dick, with Pat in his arms, and three-and-ninepence in his pocket, felt rich as he walked by. But though he liked sweet things, all the more because he had had so few to enjoy, he would not be tempted to buy.
"Don't believe Lionheart had cakes and candy—not when he was on the crusades, anyhow. It must be bread and cheese, and maybe a whole ha'poth of milk for us, Pat, to-day. When I'm a fitter you shall have a good meaty bone every day of your life!"
Pat looked up, as if he quite understood, and on some old stone steps in one of the quieter streets they were soon sharing rations, with appetites that a duke might have envied.
"Here, boy, hold my horse for a couple of minutes, will you? Don't let go; he doesn't like this pandemonium any better than I do."
In a moment Dick was on his feet and ready for business, and for the second time that day he gripped a bit of strap, with the resolve to hold on at all costs.
Onlythishorse was a beautiful chestnut, with a coat like satin, and harness that must have cost more than carrier Brown's whole turn-out.
The gentleman went into the post-office opposite, but the noise of the fair evidently upset the spirited horse, and he was very restless and impatiently pawed the ground and tossed his head.
"What a lot of stamps he must be getting!" thought Dick, when five minutes had gone by and there was still no sign of the rider's return. A party of children, blowing penny trumpets, clattered past and the horse gave a spring that taxed Dick's wrists to the utmost.
He was too busy and anxious to think about Pat, so he did not see or hear the girl in the orange scarf steal up to him and offer a dainty piece of meat, as he sat patiently waiting behind. Alas! for dogs' nature, the temptation was too great! He followed the decoy for a few yards and was then allowed to seize the bait. In a moment a black shawl was flung over the silky head, and the dog was snatched up and carried round the corner and across the Market Place.
Pat struggled and snapped and barked in vain, and the girl hurried through the town to a back lane where a number of caravans were drawn up out of the way. At one of these the showman in the velveteen coat was standing, and he instantly opened an inner compartment and, giving Pat a sharp blow, thrust him inside and turned the key.
"Good for you, Meg!" he cried with a chuckle. "That dog 'll be worth money to the show, by the time I've trained him. 'The Wonderful Black and Tan Performer,' &c. We'll keep him shut up till we're far from here, and if any questions is asked it's our dog, and that boy's a thief that have stole him from our 'appy 'ome."
"All right, dad, that's a good idea. We'll go back to the Square now. They won't be likely to come and look here."
The Post Office was very full that morning, and the girl behind the counter looked worried, as she tried to meet all the demands of hurried customers.
But at last the owner of the chestnut horse got his business of money orders and telegrams finished and came out.
"That's right, my lad; here's sixpence for your trouble," he said as he took the reins from Dick and mounted and rode off.
"Sixpence." Another good payment for a small piece of hard work!
Dick looked down triumphantly at the coin, but his face changed in a moment. This was no sixpence, such as he had often been entrusted with on Mrs. Fowley's errands, but a coin of shining yellow gold.
"It's half a sovereign," he cried breathlessly, and just for one moment the thought came, "Now I can take the train and ride to Ironboro'. Surely ten shillings would buy a ticket for all the way."
But like a flash the temptation came and went. "Lionhearts don't steal," he cried as he dashed down the street after the horseman crying, "Stop! Stop!"
But the fleet and spirited horse was already far on the way, and though Dick ran as fast as his feet could go the distance increased every moment.
He would have had no chance of success but for a carriage coming in the opposite direction. It carried several ladies and the rider reined in his horse for a chat.
Dick ran on and reached the group just as the rider was preparing to go on again.
"You are followed," said one of the ladies softly. "I am sure this boy wants to speak to you."
The rider looked round, and recognising Dick said, "Well, my boy, what is it?"
"The money sir, please, you said you gave me sixpence and it was half a sovereign. I've brought it back."
"Well done. There's one honest boy in the fair, at any rate. Take this for your trouble, but don't spend it all on ginger bread."
"Oh, thank you, sir, I shan't spend any. I'm going to Ironboro'."
"But that is a hundred miles off, at least. Why are you going so far?" asked the lady.
"To find my uncle and learn to be an engineer."
"H'm, a large order for a small man," said the gentleman kindly. "Here, I'll give you a character that may help you more than money." And tearing a leaf out of his pocket book, he wrote on it, "I have proved the bearer to be a quick and honest boy. Dale Melville."
"There, laddie, that name is known in Ironboro', and it may do you a good turn."
"Are you going alone?" asked the lady with white hair, who had been listening to all that passed, and seemed amused at Dick's gratitude.
"Oh, yes, ma'am—at least only Pat and me. He is my little dog, you know."
Then with sudden recollection he turned hurriedly and looked for his faithful follower. But there was no Pat in sight, and flushing painfully, he cried, "Oh, he's left behind. I must run back at once, or he'll be lost in the fair."
And scarcely waiting to lift his old cap to the ladies, he darted back towards the town. Thrusting the new half-crown deep into his pocket, he sped on, calling Pat and whistling for him in vain.
"Maybe he dropped asleep from tiredness, and I'll find him by the steps again."
But there was no trace of the little dog there, and Dick felt very unlike Lionheart as he searched for his lost companion, and asked all the passers by if they had seen him. But all the people seemed intent on their own pleasure, and for an hour Dick walked up and down without any tidings of Pat.
Then a mischievous looking urchin playing marbles looked up as Dick passed and said mysteriously, "I know about your dog, but I shan't tell for nothing. Give me a penny, for a ride on the gallopin' horses." Dick put a penny into the grimy hand, and the boy said in a loud whisper, "A girl had him while you was holding the horse—'ticed him off with a piece of meat. I see her."
"What was she like?" cried Dick eagerly, "and which way did she go?"
"Down the Market Place, and she was belonging to one of the shows. She was bigger'n you, and she had a yellow scarf on and eardrops."
The girl on the caravan whose master had wanted Pat! Dick had the clue now, but how could he recover his treasure?
Shutting his eyes for a moment he prayed to his Heavenly Father for help, and then began another tour of the shows.
There were dogs in plenty, ugly and lean-looking curs lying on the straw under the waggons or loafing around the shops in search of plunder, but none at all like Pat.
Again and again as he passed he called and whistled, but there was no answering bark. Suddenly he saw the girl just inside a gaily painted show while her father stood on the steps and called out, "Walk up, ladies and gentlemen! Walk up and see the smallest dwarf in the world with his performing happy family, dogs and cats and birds, all living together. Only 2d., for the greatest wonder of the age."
Without a moment's hesitation, Dick ran forward and said to the girl, "What have you done with my dog? Please let me have him back at once!"
"Your dog," she said with a toss of her head that set the earrings dancing. "I like your impudence. Haven't seen or heard of your dog."
"But you had him and took him away; a boy told me so!"
"Haven't seen him, I tell you."
"Now, you young rascal, be off at once, or I'll give you in charge!" said the man threateningly. "Coming here with such cock-and-bull tales."
"What's it all about?" said a tall policeman, stepping forward.
"Why, this young varmint has lost his dog and comes here after it, as cheeky as can be. We ain't got no dog except the happy family one in here as we've had for years, and that's a white one, as you can see for yourself."
"Was yours white?" said the officer to Dick.
"No, sir, black and tan. A boy told me he saw that girl pick him up and run off."
"Best go and find the boy," said the policeman not unkindly, "then we'll see."
"I'll make it hot for you, if you show your impudent face here again!" shouted the man, who was red with passion. He grew redder still as the officer asked quickly, "How did you know this dog was not white?"
"They've got him, I know they have," Dick muttered as he turned away with a sob in his throat. "James Cross—that's the name on the show, and I'll follow them everywhere, till I get Pat back."
But he went through all the Fair again, without finding any trace of the boy who had told him. Presently he saw the empty waggons drawn up in the side alley, and with fresh hope in his heart he hurried along.
And in the last in the row "James Cross" was painted and, from somewhere within, there came a low, unhappy whine.
Instantly Dick was at the door calling "Pat!" and whistling the familiar call, and this was answered by a storm of eager muffled barking. The locked door was shaken in vain, and there was no possible way of rescue there.
But Dick rushed back to the middle of the Fair, and going at once to the friendly policeman cried, "I've found him! I've found him! He's locked up in their waggon down that side street. Oh, please make them come and let him out."
"Is this true?" said the officer sternly to the showman, who had heard every word. "Have you got his dog?"
"'Tisn't his, it's mine. The young rascal stole him from me and now wants to make out it's his own."
"But you said just now you hadn't got another dog. When did he steal it?"
"This morning, and I got him back, of course."
"I didn't steal it, sir," cried Dick indignantly. "It's my very own. Come and hear how he barks when I call him."
"Come and let him out at once," said the officer, "and we'll soon settle the ownership."
"Can't leave the show," muttered the man angrily.
"Oh, yes, you can. It isn't far, and this girl can manage without you!"
The man sullenly got down and marched along most unwillingly with the officer and Dick, followed by an interested crowd.
"Now open the door; there's a dog in there, undoubtedly. We shall know directly who's telling the truth."
Two doors were unlocked, and then like a small whirlwind Pat scrambled out, rushed to Dick's feet and grovelled there in an ecstasy of joy. "Hum, considering you say this boy only stole him this morning, they've got uncommon fond of one another! Call him and see if he'll come to you." But the showman's wiles were in vain. Pat would not go near him.
"Have you any witnesses to prove he's yours, my lad?"
Dick thought a moment and said, "I couldn't find the boy who saw him stolen from me. But Mr. Brown the carrier knows. He heard this man offer to buy Pat this morning."
"Run round to the George Yard and ask Brown to step here a minute, if he's still there."
Two or three messengers at once darted away.
"Anything else in proof?"
"He'll do tricks for me, sir."
And Dick stooped and whispered in Pat's ear, and the dog, not at all abashed by the cheers and laughter of the crowd, begged and danced and sang in his very best manner, till Mr. Brown appeared, driving his carrier's van, for he was just starting again for the homeward journey. His emphatic testimony settled what nobody doubted, and the officer prepared to take the showman to the lock-up.
But Dick's only desire was to get away as soon as possible on his delayed journey, and he begged that nothing more might be said about prosecution.
So the showman was allowed to go, scowling and muttering, and the crowd jeered as he went, though more than one present would have been willing to risk stealing and its penalties for the possession of Pat.
"Best get away at once, and don't let him out of your sight again," said the man in blue, kindly. "That dog's too fetching to be on the road with such a small owner."
"Better both jump up into the van and go back with me to Turningham," said carrier Brown. "I want a boy to help with the horse and do odd jobs about the shop, and I know the missus would take to you and the dog. You've been a brave boy and a smart one to-day. Eighteen-pence a week and your keep to begin. Come, now!"
But Dick shook his head.
"I'm ever so much obliged, sir, but I must go on to Ironboro', whatever happens."
"Well, then, take my advice and train it as far as your money will go. A ticket for thirty or forty miles will get you beyond the beat of these fair folks, and be cheaper than tramping in the end. Jump up, and I'll drive round by the station and see about a train. Nonsense about trouble. You've saved me more than that to-day."
Dick made a rapid calculation, and felt that he could not spend more wisely the rider's half-crown, and, indeed, all the wonderful takings of the day, and in a few minutes he found himself in the corner of a third class carriage, bound northwards, with a ticket good for forty miles of travel in his hand, and Pat's fare "seen to" by his kind-hearted friend.
Dick could only dimly remember one railway journey before and he curled up in the corner of the carriage with a sense of luxurious ease and held Pat close, rejoicing in his rescue. An old woman sat on the same seat, dressed in a black gown and lilac print apron, with a curtain bonnet of the same print on her head. She held tightly the handle of a huge marketing basket that seemed full to overflowing, while on the top a bunch of late chrysanthemums made a spot of gay colour.
Opposite, a tired-looking mother sat with two fractious children, going home from the fair. They were very naughty at first, but the sight of Pat's black head arrested their crying, and Dick and his dog kept them amused till they got out at the next station. "A pity to bring children up like that," said the country-woman, confidentially. "Sweets enough to make 'em bad for a week, to say nothing of the giddy-go-rounds and ginger-bread. Ah, well, 'twasn't like it in my young days. Not that I'm against a good wholesome cake or two, especially for young folks. I'll giveyouone if you'll read this letter to me?" she added, looking inquiringly at Dick. "You see, I'm going to see my son at Manchester, and they've sent to tell me all about the changing at Crow Junction, and I can't read writing very well."
Dick had been enjoying the sight of fields and hedges rushing past and trying to count the telegraph wires, but he turned at once and said, "I'll read it with pleasure, if I can. And I'm getting out at Crow Junction, and I can help you change, if I can find out what it means."
"It's getting out of one train into another, and you might carry my basket, maybe. You see, I've got a band-box, and my umbrella and pattens besides. I had to bring them, not knowing how the roads might be up there, and with damp feet I get rheumaticy directly."
Dick managed to get through the ill-spelled letter, and learned its instructions by heart, and then was rewarded with a home-made flakey cake, out of the big basket, that was better than all the fairings they had left behind.
It was splendid to feel that the swift engine was bearing him on towards his destination so easily, and that every mile made one less to be tramped on foot.
Both Pat and his master would have been willing to travel on all night by rail, but the forty miles were soon passed, and they got out at the busy junction.
The old woman was helped in her changing, and then Dick earned twopence by carrying a heavy portmanteau for another passenger. And then the two pilgrims took to the road again.
The days that followed were very much alike, and in after years Dick remembered little about this part of the journey.
Sometimes he earned enough to buy a meal or pay for a humble night's lodging, but they would often have been very hungry but for Paddy's half-crown. This was spent carefully, a penny at a time, and chiefly for dry bread.
The last sixpence had been changed when a sign-post with the words "Ironboro' two miles" was passed. Dick took off his cap and looked up to the wintry sky with joy and gratitude, and there and then thanked God.
No Lionheart crusader could have felt more fervent gladness at the first sight of the Holy City!
Bub Dick's goal did not look very promising, as he drew near. A pall of smoke hung low over the narrow streets, tall chimneys sent black clouds into the biting air, and there was the clang and whirl of machinery, and the throb of huge hammers going on all the time.
He was entering the town by the least inviting road. On one side were rows of miserable houses with broken windows and grimy walls and doors, that looked as if all their brightness had gone into the smart public-houses on each corner.
On the other side stretched a piece of waste land, where iron clinkers and slag lay in great heaps, and rubbish of all kinds was deposited. Not a blade of grass or tree could be seen, and the children playing and quarrelling together were as dingy as the dirt they played with.
Two big lads were standing by the edge of a dark pool, not far from the roadside, laughing at something that wriggled in their hands.
Suddenly a little girl darted across and snatched at this, crying, "It's my kitty! It's mine, I tell you. Give her to me, she's mine!"
But the cruel tormenter only held the kitten higher, and showed the string and the stone his companion was tying to her neck.
The little girl screamed aloud, and flung herself upon him in a vain attempt to reach the kitten, which was mewing pitifully. In her excitement she was in great danger of falling into the black water.
"Now then, one, two, three, and——" Before he could finish and throw the captive in, Dick had sprung to the rescue.
"For shame! How can you be such a coward?" he cried, seizing the outstretched arm of the bully so fiercely that he released his hold.
"And who are you, I should like to know? Take that for interfering!" And he flung out his clenched fist for a terrific blow.
"'TAKE THAT FOR INTERFERING!'"[Illustration: "'TAKE THAT FOR INTERFERING!'"]
"'TAKE THAT FOR INTERFERING!'"[Illustration: "'TAKE THAT FOR INTERFERING!'"]
But Lionheart was too quick for him, darting aside he dodged the blow and at the same moment snatched the kitten and pushed her into the child's outstretched arms. The other coward had drawn back at Pat's threatening growl. The dog looked fierce enough for anything, and when he saw the blow aimed at his master he seized the bully by the leg and held him fast.
What might have happened next cannot be told, for at that moment the little girl raised a joyous shout. "Daddy, oh, daddy, come quick! Here, daddy!"
At her eager cry a man hurrying down the road stopped and then ran to the pool.
"Nellie, where have you been, and what's all this?"
"It's my kitty, daddy, they were going to drown her, and this boy and his doggie saved her life."
And with tears and smiles together the child clung to her father and hugged the almost suffocated kitten in her pinafore.
"Jem Whatman, at your cowardly pranks again! How dare you touch the kitten?"
At this moment, as if conscious that able reinforcements had come, Pat let go the mouthful of cloth, and without stopping to reply Jem darted away after his companion, muttering threats as he went.
"You are a brave boy to tackle two bullies at once in that fashion," said the father kindly as he swung the little girl up in his strong arms. "And there's breeding about that terrier of yours, and no mistake!"
Pat was still breathing quickly and wagging his tail excitedly, as if expecting another battle. "You are a stranger to me, and yet I seem to know your face. What is your name?"
Dick almost answered "Lionheart," but stopped just in time. "Richard Hart Crosby."
"Of course! And you're his living image; but he had neither wife nor child."
"Do you mean my uncle, sir. Do you know him."
"Know Dick Crosby? Almost as well as I know Nellie here. And I've heard him speak of his brother many times."
"Then, sir, if you know him, won't you tell me where he lives, that I may go to him at once? I only heard about him just lately, and I've come all the way from Venley to find him."
"I'll tell you all I can, but you can't go to him to-day, for he went off to Klondyke more than a year ago, and I've only heard from him once since he went."
Poor Dick! The disappointment following so quickly on success was almost too much. A big lump came in his throat and tears blurred his sight, so that he could scarcely see the ugly rubbish heap and the cinders that lay around.
But he had made resolve that he would not cry, whatever happened, and so he resolutely ordered tears away and again faced his new friend.
"How did you get here, laddie?"
"Walked from Venley—all but forty miles I came by train."
"Well, then, you must walk a bit further and come home with me. Dick Crosby was my good friend, and you have saved the kitten and maybe Nellie herself from ill-usage. It's dinner time, so you are just right. Run, Nellie, there is mother watching at the door."
They were walking now in a wider thoroughfare with better houses on either side. At the door of one a motherly woman stood looking out anxiously, and to her Nellie ran with a joyous shout. "Oh, mother, I've got kitty, and daddy's got a boy out there with such a nice dog, only kitty doesn't like him. She makes her tail like a sweeping brush."
"But where have you been, Nellie? We lost you, and father had to come after you."
"It's all right now, wife. I found her—or rather this little man found her, and helped her too, so I've brought him home to dinner." And in a few words he told the tale, while Pat sent Nellie into shrieks of delight by standing up and begging in his best manner. Doubtless he smelled the savoury Irish stew that was just ready.
And Mrs. Dainton hurried them all in to enjoy it.
Over the pleasant little dinner table Dick's heart was quite won. The room was so clean and pretty, and the hot meal so good after the meagre fare of the last fortnight. And the new friends were so kind and sympathising, it was easy to tell them about the long march from Venley, and all his hopes about the future. Only there was no uncle Dick to help him in his heart's desire to become an engineer, and he would have to fight his own way.
But Mr. Dainton was quite disposed to be a true friend.
"I like your pluck, my boy, and I'll see what I can do, for my old friend's sake, and for your kindness to a little kitten. I may be able to get you into our yard, though you'll have to be content with rough work and very small wages at first. I suppose you haven't a reference or testimonial of any sort?"
Dick suddenly remembered the slip of paper given him by the gentleman on horseback, and he gave it silently into Mr. Dainton's hand.
"Why, this is first-rate, my boy! Couldn't be better. Sir Dale Melville is one of the directors of the line we do so much work for, and it was luck, or something better, that brought you in his way."
"Something better, I should say," Mrs. Dainton remarked softly, and Dick answered her smile with one as bright.
"You're right, wife, it strikes me God has been guiding Dick here right to our door, and I can see he thinks so, too."
"He could stop here, couldn't he mother, till Teddy comes back from grandma's, and have his little room?" said Nellie, eagerly. "Then Pat and Kitty could quite make friends, and have such fun together."
"That's not a bad notion, pet, if mother is willing."
And Mrs. Dainton at once said "Yes," and so Dick found himself with home and food and friends, before he had been an hour in Ironboro'.
How wonderfully God had answered his prayers!
"Hulloa, you young hopeful, what do you mean by sleeping all through dinner, and then waking just as we've cleared the dishes?" And Mr. Dainton stooped to the cradle by the hearth, where a bonny six-month's old baby had wakened with a cry.
"What, fretty, little man? Those teeth do bother you, don't they? And I can't stop to take you now."
"Let me have him!" cried Dick, quickly, holding out his arms. "I've had a lot to do with babies."
And to their great surprise, baby Jack went to him at once with a contented chuckle, and settled down as if he had known him always.
"I like that, now," said the father as he took his cap to go. "He's mostly so shy with strangers."
Mrs. Dainton nodded her head as if to say "He'll do." And before the day was over she was inclined to think they had indeed entertained an angel unawares.
"He's as handy in the house as a woman," she told her husband that night, "and a master-hand with baby. I think we had better keep him, instead of the nurse-girl you've been wanting me to have."
"Too late, wifie. I'm hoping to get him into the starting shed to-morrow or Monday. Anyhow, the loco. manager will see him. We'll keep him here this week and rig him out with clothes, if only for Richard's sake."
"And for Christ's sake," said the mother softly. "It will be a case for 'Inasmuch' I know. He says his teacher used to call him 'Lionheart' and he means to earn the name."
"I rather think he's done that already, judging by the way he stood up to those bullies on the Waste. We'll see if old Mrs. Garth can give him a lodging. He'll be comfortable there, and we can have him round often, and I hope he and Teddy will be chums. I believe he's going to do well."
The next day it was settled, and Dick was seen by the manager and engaged as handy-boy for the cleaning shed. The small wages he would have at first seemed wealth indeed to Dick, though anybody else might have wondered how lodging and food and clothing could be managed on such an income. But Mr. Dainton had a private understanding with the tidy old woman where Dick's uncle had lodged, and she agreed to find board and lodging for what he could afford to pay, if he would carry coal and chop sticks and do errands for her, for a little while every day, now that she was growing old.
It was a good bargain for both, and Dick faithfully kept his share of the compact, spending half-an-hour morning and evening in helping her, while Pat fitted into the little household as if he had belonged there always. It was the proudest moment of Dick's life when he entered the great gates of the engine works on Monday morning.
The crowd of men going in at the summons of the hooter was not so large as on other days. So many of the workmen were keeping Saint Monday after drinking hard on Saturday and Sunday, and of those who came some looked sleepy and muddled as if, they, too, had been having too much.
But Dick was not in a critical mood. Everything looked strange and delightful to the eager boy, and even the dirty work he was ordered to do seemed pleasant because there were engines everywhere, and mysteries of cogs and wheels that he would be able to find out, as the days went by.
The all-pervading smell of oil and grease reminded him of Paddy's boiler-house, and he resolved to spend his first evening in writing to him.
There were three other boys in the shed, all older than himself, and half-a-dozen men, and Dick was fairly bewildered by the orders they gave him.
As a new hand and the youngest it was quite evident he would be expected to fag for all, and long before night his back and legs were very tired.
But Mrs. Garth had a good tea all ready, and Pat, who had been disconsolate all day, nearly wagged off his short tail for joy when he got home.
And then he wrote a letter.
"DEAR PADDY,
"We got to Ironboro' quite safely, after a lot of ups and downs on the road. Pat was nearly lost, so many people wanted to steal, or beg, or buy him, and no wonder.
"My uncle Richard is gone to Klondyke, and I am going to write him a letter.
"His friend, Mr. Dainton, found me, or I found his little girl, and they have been so kind. He is a foreman at Lisle & Co.'s, and he knew uncle ever so well. He has got me a place in their sheds, and I began work to-day.
"Our firm is splendid, I should think six times as big as the tin works, and I am going to try so hard there.
"Ironboro' is very dirty, and there are publics everywhere. The men drink a great deal here, and it is such a pity. Mr. Dainton says they could do well if they liked, because the pay is so good.
"One of the men offered me a drink of beer to-day, but of course I said 'No.' When I told him I never meant to touch it the others laughed, and said they'd soon make me know better. But I mean to be Lionheart still.
"Pat sends his love to you. He has a box for a kennel in Mrs. Garth's wood shed where I lodge.
"Dear Paddy, I know Goddoeshear when we pray, because he brought me here, and made people so kind to me coming along, and gave me friends and work directly. I wish you would come here, too, that Pat and I could see you again. He is so knowing. Everybody likes him. Do come."Your loving friend, DICK."
"I've got slops and overalls just like the other men, to work in, and I'm going to a night school and a technical class, and Mr. Dainton has lent me a big book about engines, with pictures all through.
"I should like to know how baby Lily is at Mrs. Fowley's, if you could find out, and whether they were vexed at my running away. But please don't tell them I am here."DICK."
This letter gave Paddy so much pleasure when it reached him that his first impulse was to take it to the "Brown Bear" and read it to some of his cronies there, just for the joy of sharing it.
But better thoughts came.
"And shure if I hearkened to the good book he was reading that night and what he says here about the drink I should never touch the beer again at all, at all. He said we could all be Lionhearts, and that God wouldn't like to go into them places with me. And he says again here that God does answer when we pray. Maybe if I went round to Dick's teacher and signed the pledge the Almighty would help me to keep it, and then I could save a bit of money and go to Ironboro' too."
Paddy had been sitting by his little fire after tea when the letter came, and he sat on for a long while, staring into the bright coals and seeing in fancy Dick's pleading face again. Suddenly he got down awkwardly upon his knees, and with the letter in his hand prayed his first real prayer.
And that night he signed the pledge and hung up the card over his mantelpiece where all might see it, and the sight of his own name, put to such a promise, was a continual help to him in the fight that lay before him.
Paddy's courage and determination were soon put to the test. He had been a bar favourite so long that his absence was soon noticed, and the men he had so often entertained and treated were loud in their complaints and jeers. The ridicule was hard enough to bear, but the sneers at his stingy ways hurt him most.
For Paddy's warm Irish heart loved to give, and to make pleasure for others, and many a time he had spent his last coin in treating a comrade.
The publicans, too, missed his songs and merry stories, that always led to rounds of applause and renewed treating. The landlord of the "Brown Bear" stood at his door to watch for Paddy, and offers of free drinks and boisterous welcome met him almost every night.
But he had learned to distrust his own strength, and to lean upon the promised help of God. Night and morning he knelt by his chair and prayed for the victory, and with the thought of Lionheart to help him he went out to the battle girded with the strength that never fails.
On the first wage night after signing the pledge he went straight to the Post Office and put a good portion of his money into the Savings Bank, and then went home by a roundabout way to avoid the public-houses. "It's no use to pray 'Lead us not into temptation' and then go right by the Bear's Den when you aren't obloiged to," he said to himself.
He bought a large print New Testament and spelled out a chapter before he went to bed—the chapter which told of the Prodigal going home to the Father's house, and the sweet sense of God's forgiveness for all his wasted years, made him feel so happy that he could not sleep for a long while.
"I'll save me money and go after that boy to Ironboro', for shure; it's to him I owe it all. And maybe we could help one another there, for something tells me he'll still need a friend."
And truly Dick had not been long in the cleaning shed before his trials began. The man who had offered him beer on his first day was Jem Whatman's father, and Dick's quiet refusal had angered him greatly, and his threat to make him know better had not been an idle one.
"We'll have no Band-of-Hopers amongst us jokers, eh mates?" he said with rough wit, a few days afterwards.
"So look here, young 'un, the boss is out of the way, and you take this shilling and nip across to the 'Jolly Founders' and fetch half-a-gallon of fivepenny in this jar. We'll soon see where your teetotalling will be." The other workers in the shed applauded loudly at the prospect of a drink and some fun into the bargain.
But Dick had spent a very serious quarter of an hour on his first day in reading the Rules posted up conspicuously in every workshop, and one of them said, "No intoxicating drinks must be fetched during working hours."
So he looked up bravely and said, "I can't do that, for it would be breaking the rules to fetch beer. Besides, I can't go inside a public-house, at any time.
"Rules be hanged!" said Whatman fiercely. "You are here to do as you're told and not to cheek your betters. Quick! Off with the jar, or it'll be the worse for you."
But Dick stood still, while the thought of Lionheart gave him courage.
"I'll do anything for you that's right, but I can't do that," he said bravely. "I'll never go into a public-house, and the rules are up there as plain as can be." And he pointed to the glazed and somewhat dingy copy of rules and regulations on the wall.
"You young impudence, I'll teach you!" said Whatman in ungovernable rage. "If you don't go this minute I'll give you such a hiding as you'll never forget. I owe you one for interfering with Jem the other day."
But Dick did not move, and his brown eyes met Whatman's angry scowl without shrinking.
Suddenly, Hal Smith, one of the other lads, said, "Here, Whatman, I'll fetch it this time, same as I have before, and we'll make him have a drink, and that will put a stop to his teetotal whining."
Seizing the jar and looking out cautiously to see that the coast was clear, he hurried off, while Whatman, muttering angrily, turned away.
Dick went on with his cleaning of some brass fittings, polishing and rubbing till they shone like gold.
But while his hands worked vigorously his thoughts were away beyond the grimy shed and the troubles of the hour, seeking One who said, "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee."
He needed all his faith a few minutes afterwards, when Hal came back with the foaming jar.
"Now, young sir," said Whatman, with mock politeness, "you'll drink best respects to us in this here cup of beer. Every drop, mind! What, you won't have it? Here, Smith and Perkins, hold his head while I pour it down. He's got to learn manners!"
Dick struggled violently in his captors' hands and almost got free. But the men were too strong for him, and he was held fast.
Clenching his teeth and resolved to choke rather than swallow it he waited till the cup was at his lips, and then, with a sudden jerk of his head, knocked it aside and caused the stream of brown liquid to fall on the dirty floor.
Whatman's answer to this was a violent blow that made blue and green stars dance before the boy's eyes and almost stunned him.
"What is going on here?" said a stern voice in the doorway. Instantly the men closed round the jar, hoping to hide it, but Macleod, the Scotch foreman, was not easily hoodwinked.
"Drinking and fighting too. What do you mean by it?"
"It's this young rascal here," said Whatman. "Cheeking us and drinking our beer."
Dick was too dazed to answer, but there was no need. Macleod had seen the cowardly blow. "Your beer? And how did that jar get here at this time of day? I shall report you, Whatman and Smith; you've had warnings enough, I should say, but one of these times will be the last. And if you put upon this boy again you'll have to reckon with Dainton and me. He's under Dainton's care, anyhow, and you haven't heard the last of this, I can tell you."
For the time Whatman and the other men were silenced, but Dick had a black eye, as the result of the blow, and the reason had to be told when he went to Mr. Dainton's that evening to tea.
For Teddy had come home from his visit to the country, and Dick was eager to see the brother of whom little Nellie talked so much.
He was a fun-loving urchin who never spent a minute more over his lessons than he could possibly help, and was only clever in getting into mischief and, at Dick's age, was far behind him in learning.
In his frequent visits to his grandmother's farm he had been allowed too much of his own way, and his father grumbled and threatened to stop this spoiling, by keeping him at home.
To ride, bare backed, the farm colts and to go fishing and birds' nesting at all hours was far more pleasant than sitting at a school desk and bothering one's head with fractions, and over the tea table he spoke his mind.
"You won't catch me going into the sheds, father, when I leave school. I'm going to be a farmer and ride on horseback all day long."
"You'll be a poor farmer at that rate, Ted," his mother said quietly. "What about feeding stock and ploughing and sowing and reaping?"
"Oh, but I should keep men to do all that," was the lofty reply.
"Yes, but you must at least know how it is all done, if you are to make farming pay. That's why Dick here has to begin at the very bottom and do all sorts of black work before he can be a great engineer and come out at the top of the tree."
"And must he have black eyes as well?" asked Nellie pointedly; "and have his face spoiled?"
"No, little one, that is another matter. Whatman ought to be sent about his business and should be, if I had the management. But a black eye is no disgrace when you get it for resisting evil."
"There's a verse that's just meant for you, Dick," said Mrs. Dainton kindly, "and you ought to learn it by heart. 'Consider Him who endured such contradiction of sinners against Himself, lest ye be weary and faint in your minds.' I'll show it to you after tea."
"And then, as it is a wet night, you can all have a game with Pat in the kitchen before Dick goes to school."
"School at night," asked Teddy in amazement. "And after working all day. Haven't you learned enough?"
"Not half," said Dick, laughing at the comical tone of dismay.
"There's a world-full of things I don't know anything about, especially drawing and hard sums. I want them because they'll help me to be a fitter by and by."
But Teddy whistled in a very unbelieving way, and presently went off to the kitchen, as he explained, to give the poor dog a bone.
And when the others moved a few minutes afterwards, they were startled by a cry from Nellie, who had gone after Teddy.
All her family of five cherished dolls were hanging by their back hair from the hooks on the kitchen dresser, while Pat marched about with her Sunday doll's best velvet hat set rakishly on his head, and a Red Riding Hood cloak on his back!