JACK'S BICYCLE.
"WELL, boy, I've got the job," and Jack's father grinned and rubbed his hands with supreme satisfaction, as he looked first at Jack and then at his wife across the supper table that Saturday night.
Jack was eating his bread and cheese in a sleepy fashion, for the long walk and ramble in the woods had tired him, and he and Annie had only just got back; but he was alert enough when he heard his father's news. "What job is it, dad?" he asked, eagerly.
"Oh, not a big contract; I couldn't manage that without I know a bit more of figures, and so you must get on to them, my boy, for me. I could tot up a little job like this—for it's just putting a shop front into a private house—and it's a job you can help me at when you have done at your own place. For the man wants it done quickly now he has made up his mind about it, and I may get another when this is finished, if it suits him. I must be up with the lark on Monday morning, and get that workshop ready."
And then there was another rubbing of the hands, and Bond would not have been sorry if his wife had suggested that he should commence clearing it that very night.
But Mrs. Bond hardly knew what to think of this new departure. So long as they lived in Sadler Street, she had been content to live like her neighbours, in a dirty, untidy, thriftless fashion. And it was only because Jack was always talking about the Winns and their nice house, that she decided that she would have something like it when she moved away from the old neighbourhood.
She had made a beginning with the kitchen, and felt very proud of what she had done; but why her husband and Jack should also want to turn over a new leaf us well as herself, she could not quite understand. Though she strongly suspected that it was because there was an old disused workshop at the bottom of the garden, and a gateway at the side of the house leading to it, that had put the idea into their heads. And she did not half like the notion of risking their little bit of money in taking work, instead of keeping it in the bank, and adding to it when he had the chance from his weekly wages.
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Jack's father rubbed his hands with supreme satisfaction.
But she knew her husband too well to dispute with him over this, and so she sat and listened while the three talked. For Annie's arithmetic was brought into requisition in working out quantities, and it was nearly twelve o'clock before they went to bed. And then Jack dreamed of figures, and timber, and nails, and paint, and varnish, in such a confused jumble, that he woke up the next morning wishing more than ever that he had stuck to his lessons when he was at school, instead of wasting his time, as he often had done, and turning every bit of school work into a source of fun for the others to laugh at.
The other boys had thought it clever at the time, and so did he, but he knew now that if he had had more sense, he would have known better than to waste his time in such folly. For he could do nothing without Annie's help to make sure that the simplest sum was right; and upon the accuracy of working these out correctly, would depend whether his father lost money, or made a profit, upon the work he undertook. But out of this grew the steady resolution that, however distasteful it might be for a big fellow like him to go to school again, after he had begun working at a trade, he would go, and give all his attention to the intricacies of arithmetic, until he had mastered it.
He would have begun working at simple sums at once, if he could, but he was to begin helping his father with the carpentering on Monday as soon as he got home. And so his only chance to do this was in the odd minutes he might snatch during the dinner hour; and he resolved to keep a pencil and paper in his pocket, that he might do this whenever he had the chance.
As soon as day dawned, his father was up and clearing out the old shed, repairing the broken window, and making it ready to begin work as soon as the wood should be brought in for him to begin upon.
Jack came home at tea time with shining eyes and glowing cheeks.
"I say, dad, Jackson, my foreman, wants to sell his bicycle. It's a good strong one, will wear for years he says."
"Then what does he want to sell it for?" asked Bond.
"Because it's a bit old-fashioned, and he's been saving up to buy a new one; and if he can sell this soon, so as to get another, he will let it go cheap."
"What does he call cheap? Because I happen to have a pound or two in the bank I can't afford to waste it. And if—"
"But I don't want you to give me the money, dad!" interrupted Jack. "He says if I can pay him ten shillings in a fortnight, and five shillings a week afterwards until it is paid, and you will agree to see it is paid, he can order his new machine at once, and I can have his old one when I pay the ten shillings."
"Well, that sounds fair enough, my boy. But I tell you what, I should like to see the machine myself, and get somebody else to look at it who understands such things. You tell him what I say, lad, and hear what he thinks to it. Now, make haste over your tea, for that bicycle has got to be earned yet, you know, and I have got a bit of work ready for you."
So as soon as tea was over, Jack went to his new work in the old shed. And although it was not very pleasant to begin again when he had already done a fair day's work, still, he set to it with a will.
Fortunately for the two workmen, Mrs. Bond was determined to have a share in the new departure. And, knowing that a man cannot do extra work without extra food, instead of going out to have a gossip with a neighbour, she and Annie busied themselves with cooking a tasty little supper from the bones of the previous day's joint, a few scraps of meat, and some fresh vegetables, and a little pearl barley. So when Jack and his father came in about nine o'clock, expecting to see the customary bread and cheese set out upon the table, they found Annie toasting some bread, and Mrs. Bond turning out a dish of delicious stew.
Her husband looked rather alarmed at first. "I don't say I don't like it, Mary," he said, rather solemnly, "but hot suppers is an extravagance I can't abide."
"It won't cost above a penny more than the bread and cheese, except the extra trouble, and that's mine and Annie's share towards the new board that you want outside."
Jack had thought he was too tired to eat any supper until he smelt the savoury stew. And probably if there had only been the bread and cheese, he would have gone straight to bed without eating anything, and been less able so do his work the next day. But this light, savoury supper tempted him to eat, and when he went to bed, he slept soundly all night, and was ready to get up in the morning and go to work as usual, which could scarcely have been the case if his mother and sister had not taken their share, by providing a savoury hot supper that was nourishing and digestible.
"I feel as fresh as a daisy, dad. Overtime work don't hurt me," said Jack, when his father asked if he felt tired.
"That's all right, my boy. You worked well last night, and I expect mother's supper helped you along. I've been getting on to-day, but I want you to help me a bit each evening this week."
"Why, of course you do. How am I to get my bike if I don't do a bit of overtime work?" asked Jack.
"Ah, about that bicycle. Did you tell your foreman what I said?"
"Yes, and he is going to bring the machine with him to-morrow, and then I can bring it home for you to see, and ask some other opinion about it."
"Well, that looks straightforward, lad. If the thing is all right, you shall have it, on the understanding that you go to the evening class next winter, and work away at the figures, and do what you can to help me with the job I have got, and perhaps another after it."
But Jack shook his head to this proposal. "No, dad, I'll promise about the evening class for the winter, I've made up my mind about that, and I'll stick to it, though you will have to trust me for it. But I'll just take the money I can earn fair and square, and when I've earned half, I'll have the jigger if it's all right. That's the bargain I've made with Jackson to-day, for I'd rather earn it before I get it. He's going to lend it to me sometimes on a Saturday to ride out a little way, and find out about the road to Fairfield. For as soon as ever I can, I want to go and see how Tom Winn is getting on, and—"
"And tell him about the board we are going to have outside," interrupted Annie.
"No, no, we'll wait a bit, and see how we get on first," said Bond, a little anxiously.
"All right, dad, I won't say a word about the board till we find out whether we can put it up, and keep it up," said Jack.
"That's it, my lad; I don't want to make a fool of myself to anybody, and especially to them friends of yours that you think so much of."
"I don't see why you should think them such grand folks. Mrs. Winn was only a dressmaker, I've heard," said Mrs. Bond, a little tartly, for somehow she always did feel a little jealous of her son thinking so much of these strangers.
"You don't know Mrs. Winn, mother, or you would say what everybody else does, that she is every inch a lady."
"What is a lady, Jack?" asked his sister.
Jack scratched his head, for the question was a hard one for him to answer, but at last he said, "Well, I suppose it is to be kind, and say civil things, and always look nice, and have a clean, tidy room."
Jack's father laughed until the tears came into his eyes, and in the midst of it, Jack took up his cap and went back to work. And after he had gone, his father said, "The boy ain't so far wrong neither, for there's many a fine madam with plenty of money, who ain't no lady, and there's many a working lass who would put the fine madam to shame; and so I think our Jack has hit the right nail on the head after all."
Jack brought the big bicycle home in great triumph the next day, and was not a little proud when his mother and sister came to the street door to see him ride it up and down the street.
His father said it looked all right, and seemed to go straight enough, but still he meant to have the opinion of someone who understood the things. And they would push on with the work for an hour, and then knock off a little earlier, so as to take the machine, and have a skilled opinion about it.
Jack was very anxious about this, for he knew some one else had offered to buy the machine; and so if his father was not satisfied with it, the foreman would probably sell it the next day, and all chance of being able to ride over and see Tom Winn sometimes on a Saturday would vanish.
So when after an hour's steady sawing and planing, his father straightened his back, and said, "Now, Jack, we will knock off for to-night, and go and see the bicycle doctor."
Jack was not long throwing off his apron and making himself tidy, ready to go and see the man who seemed to hold his summer happiness in his hands.
To his intense relief, after some close examination, the man pronounced the machine a very good one.
"It's old-fashioned, of course, but it has not been much worn. How much is the owner asking for it; five pounds?"
"No, two," said Jack, quickly.
"Then it's a bargain," said the man; "and as you have good long legs of your own, it will do as well for you as a more fashionable one. Where do you think of riding it?" he asked.
"To Fairfield, as soon as I can ride well enough," said Jack.
"To Fairfield! Well, that's too long a spin for you just at first. Ride it for a month, my lad, before you attempt that journey."
Jack looked disappointed, for he had made up his mind to set out to see Tom the very day the bicycle became his own. But as he walked home with his father, he promised to take the man's advice, and not attempt such a long ride until he had perfect mastery of the machine, which he could not expect to get until he had ridden it a few times.
But he had the satisfaction of asking the owner to call and see his father on his way home from work the next day. And a fortnight later, he had paid the deposit agreed upon, and took the bicycle home, and put it where he could look at it, as he worked beside his father in their own workshop.
Bond's first job was finished, and gave so much satisfaction, that he soon got another from the same man, and it seemed likely that Jack's services would be required every evening for the rest of the summer.
But his father promised that he should go to Fairfield on an early Saturday afternoon; and in the meanwhile Jack was hunting up some information, that he hoped would prove most welcome news to Tom when he did go. It required a little patience and perseverance to make sure that what he had heard was correct; but when he was sure of his facts, he decided that he must go to Fairfield the next Saturday, even if he had to go by train, for the news was too important to be delayed a day longer than was necessary. And when his father knew what it was, and why he was so anxious to see his old friend at once, he would not say a word against him going the very next Saturday afternoon, if it was fine. And if it should prove to be wet, then he had better go by train, although it would be rather an expensive journey, he feared.
But the eagerly anticipated Saturday proved to be almost a perfect summer day, and Jack set off soon after dinner, as proud as a prince, on his bicycle, wondering what Tom and Elsie would say when they heard the news he was taking to them.
THE NEW SCHOOL.
AS soon as Tom had done a little gardening, and seemed strong enough to return to school, Mrs. Winn called to see the schoolmaster about Tom entering the village school. The master himself was not at home, but she saw his wife, and the two had a long talk, during which she learned that they had only one child, a daughter, about Elsie's age, who was afflicted with what seemed like a spinal complaint, but about which the doctors could not agree, except upon one point, and that was that she must lie upon her back for a year or two.
"She frets about it terribly, poor girl," said her mother, with a sigh; "and I sometimes wish we had never come here, though we did it for Mary's sake, and my husband gave up a much better school than this for the sake of being in the country."
"I came here chiefly on my son's account," remarked Mrs. Winn; and then she told her neighbour about Tom's long illness. "I have a daughter, too, about the age of yours, and it would do both girls good, perhaps, if they could meet sometimes; though Elsie is rather shy of strangers, I find."
"My Mary will not see anyone if she can help it, I am sorry to say. I often wish we had a resident clergyman here now; it would be better for the people and everybody about; but as it is, there is no society for her—no one to come in and see her, and—"
"But surely there is a clergyman here; the church is open every Sunday," said Mrs. Winn.
"Oh, yes, one of Mr. Topham's curates comes over from Somerville every Sunday for service, and sometimes during the week, to look in at the school. But Mr. Topham is a bachelor, so that it is very different from having a rector or vicar with a wife and family living in the village. And it falls hard on my poor Mollie, who used to have a good deal of attention from our former vicar's family."
"Ah! And I shall feel the difference, too," said Mrs. Winn, "for without asking about it, I made sure the vicar's wife would help me. You see, I am a dressmaker, and hoped to find customers among the gentry round."
Mrs. Murray shook her head. "I am afraid there is not much dressmaking to be had in this neighbourhood," she said.
"Oh, but I have several dresses to make now from the doctor's wife," interrupted the widow, for she did not want to hear discouraging news as to her future prospects. Tom was so much better, and the house was so nice and comfortable, that she did not wish to think she could have made a mistake in coming here.
"The doctor is very nice, and so is his wife. I really think Mary would be worse than she is, if it was not for them; for Mrs. Perceval comes to see her sometimes, and being the doctor's wife, and such a perfect lady as she is, Mary cannot refuse to see her."
Mrs. Winn hinted that Elsie might perhaps call and sit half an hour with the invalid, although she had very little time to spare for visiting, as she had the cooking and the children to look after.
But Mrs. Murray shook her head at the proposal. "My poor Mollie is too sensitive to see strangers," she said, with another sigh; "she is like a sweet fading flower," she added.
"But don't you think that is all the more reason why she should have a little cheerful society," said Mrs. Winn.
"She could not bear it," said Mrs. Murray, and then she turned the conversation back to its original theme, and spoke of the school, and her husband's work among the boys, and how rough and backward many of them were.
It was not encouraging to Mrs. Winn to hear such an account of the school, for she was afraid Tom would not benefit much by attending it; and the worst of it was, there seemed to be no other within reach.
Of course, Mrs. Murray said her husband was an excellent teacher, and Tom would be sure to do very well. But Mrs. Winn was by no means so sure of it, for he was just the age when he needed to be at a good school, and which his own folly had rendered impossible.
She went home rather dispirited, but she did not say a word to Tom or Elsie about this. And it was arranged that Tom should go to school the following Monday morning.
The boy was not sorry to hear that he was to go back to school, for he had been away from books and lessons for some months now; and fond as he undoubtedly was of gardening, he had had enough of it to satisfy him for the present, and he was well content to hear that he was to go back to his books again.
So the following Monday morning Tom went to school, fully expecting to see a similar assemblage of boys as he had been accustomed to.
But he stopped short at the door of the schoolroom, and looked round, thinking he must surely have made a mistake; for, to his amazement, there were as many girls as boys seated at the desks, and all were talking together in a fashion that astonished him.
But the sight of the new-comer, standing on the mat, hushed half the voices in the room, and this sudden hush attracting the notice of one of the teachers, he stepped forward and asked Tom what he wanted.
"I have come to school," said Tom, looking round for a class that he thought he might enter.
The young teacher looked puzzled, and sent him to the head-master; and presently Tom was directed to join a class at the further end of the room, as lessons were about to begin.
Tom went to his place, feeling a little shy of his new school-fellows, for they all seemed to stare at him so much. His jacket, his stockings, and even his boots seemed to undergo a critical examination by the class, and this culminated in a roar of laughter when Tom gave his name to his new teacher.
"What is there to laugh at?" the young man asked calmly, while Tom grew furiously angry, for he could hear half a dozen voices repeating his name, and mimicking the tone in which he spoke. Whispers about the "new chap" were passed from one to the other as Tom went to his seat.
And when it came to his turn to read, there was a fresh burst of laughter before he had uttered half a dozen words. But Tom read the sentence unmoved, and then he said, "Please, sir, I can read a harder book than this," hoping he might be moved into another class.
"Harder book than this!" muttered two or three. "Hear to him, Charley," said one, in a loud whisper; "new chap wants harder book that we may all get the cane, 'cos we can't read un. I'll tell my brother Bill to wollop un when us gets out."
Tom did not hear this, but his fluent reading was evidently an offence to some of his class-mates. For while they spelled and stumbled through the words, Tom read them out in a half whisper. And when it came to his turn in the reading lesson again, he read his piece in great triumph.
When the lesson came to an end, he said, "Please, sir, hadn't I better go into another class; I was in the Sixth Standard at my other school, and—"
"There, go back to your place, my boy," said the teacher, "and I'll speak to Mr. Murray after school."
But before school was over, Tom learned to his dismay that this was the highest class. And he heard the teacher say that, work as hard as they might, they would never get above half a dozen boys fit for the Sixth Standard.
Tom went home greatly disgusted. He rushed in to where his mother sat sewing, hot and angry.
"I'm not going to that miserable old school again," he said. "Why, it isn't a bit like Mr. Potter's."
"It's the best there is here, my boy; and we shall have to put up with it," said his mother, looking up from her work.
"Tom, I do think you might wipe your feet when you come in," said Elsie, at this point. "Just look what a muddy mess you have made all through the passage."
"The roads are so dirty," complained Tom in turn. "I did try to find a clean place, but it rained all day yesterday, and the mud is an inch thick. Nobody comes to sweep it away, or make the road passable," he added.
"Well, you might have rubbed your boots on the mat. For if any ladies should come to see mother about her work, what would they think to see such a passage?"
Mrs. Winn sighed, but only sewed the faster, for she was beginning to fear that she had made a mistake in coming here, for more reasons than one; and that Elsie would have no chance of feeling hurt that customers had seen a dirty passage when they called.
When Tom had rubbed his boots on the doormat, he went back to his mother. "I really can't go to that beastly old school," he began again; "why, they're half girls, mother."
"Well, it would not hurt you to learn your lessons among girls," said Mrs. Winn. "Elsie is a better scholar than you are, and she is a girl."
Tom winced as he thought of his neglected opportunities at the Board School. "It isn't that they are only girls," he went on, "but they don't seem to have a Seventh Standard class at all, and I don't believe they have got a Sixth. The teacher said the examination was just over, and the biggest boys had left; but I expect they were all big dunces, for the rest are that are left behind; and I am sure I shall never learn anything there."
"But why not? You must try to learn, Tom, and make the most of the time you are there, for there is no telling how long you may be able to stay at school," said Mrs. Winn.
"Try? I'd like to know what's the good of trying to learn in such a row as they make at that place," grumbled Tom.
His mother smiled. "You used to complain that your other master was so particular that you couldn't wink without the teacher hearing."
"Yes. I thought of that to-day when I was trying to do a sum. Why, it was as easy as pie—the sum I mean; but the buzz, buzz, chatter, chatter, that went on all round, sent my wits woolgathering, and I actually took it up wrong; though a Fourth Standard boy would have got it right in the other school."
"You are hard to please, my boy, I am afraid," said his mother. "At the other school you were always complaining that they were so strict during class time that you could not speak a word, and now this school—"
"Mother, did you see it when you went to speak to the master?" interrupted Tom.
"No, my boy. A half-holiday had been given that day, and so I went to Mr. Murray's house."
"Well, the next time you go out, just go round that way, and stand by the window for five minutes, and you'll know then that it's no good trying to learn in such a Bedlam as that is."
"It is a noisy school, mother," said Elsie, who had come to say that dinner was ready.
"Perhaps it is; but Tom used to grumble before that the other school was so quiet," said Mrs. Winn.
"That was because I did not know what a noisy one was like. I didn't know when I was well off, Elsie," he added.
"I wonder whether they have scholarships here," said his sister, who had not given up the hope that her brother might yet distinguish himself in this way.
Toni shook his head. "No chance of that now," he said; "for nobody could ever get a scholarship in this school, if there were fifty to be had for the trying."
"Tom, I don't like to hear you talk like that," said his mother; "as though you had made up your mind to give up at once, without trying to overcome the difficulties that are in the way of your getting a good education now. Why, what is to become of you, if—"
"I can read better than any boy in the school," said Tom, proudly.
"Perhaps you can, you were always fond of reading. But, according to your own account, you could not do the sum that was set you; and yet you ask me to let you leave school, because of the difficulties that are in the way of your learning. I should be a foolish mother if I gave way to you, my boy."
"But I don't want to be a clerk, and stick at a desk all day," muttered Tom. "Old Mother Gunn says I shall make a first-rate gardener; and she'll tell me lots of things her father told her about grafting, and budding, and other things."
"It's very kind of Betsy Gunn, and I am very much obliged to her for helping you as she does. But you must consider this, Tom, that the sort of gardening that would do when her father and grandfather were young, would not do now. If you are to be a gardener, I should like you to be a good one, and learn it, if possible, at one of the agricultural or horticultural colleges; though how it is to be managed, now you have thrown over the chance of getting a scholarship like Elsie's, I don't know."
Tom opened his eyes in blank amazement. "I never thought a scholarship would help me to be a gardener," he said. "Oh, mother, why didn't you tell me this when I had my chance of getting one," and the tears rose to Tom's eyes, though he brushed them away, for fear his mother or Elsie should see them.
"I did not know you so greatly wished to be a gardener until we came here, and I thought it was enough to tell you that father and I would be glad if you could get a scholarship, when it was first talked about. That if you knew it was your duty to try for this, you would do it without much regard to what would follow. That is where you made the mistake, Tom—you did not do your duty for duty's sake; and now you learn, when it is too late, that if you had taken this course, it would have been the means of gratifying your heart's desire."
"Oh, mother, I never knew I was losing such a chance," said Tom, bitterly.
"Poor Tom, I am sorry," said Elsie; "I wish you could have had my scholarship, and then you would not have had to go to this nasty, noisy school."
"It's of no use crying over spilt milk, Elsie," said her mother. "What Tom has to do now is to take care that he does not repeat the mistake he made before, and neglect the duty that lies plainly before him."
"What do you mean, mother?" asked Elsie, who was inclined to think her mother rather hard on Tom in wishing him to go to this noisy school, where he said he could not do any good.
"Why, Tom's duty now is to make the best he can of his present opportunities, as it is impossible to recall the past."
"But what are his opportunities? He don't seem to have any now," said Elsie, who was always ready to take up the cudgels on Tom's behalf, although his neglect of duty had cost them all so dearly.
"Got no opportunities!" repeated Mrs. Winn. "Why, there is this school we are talking about. It may not be so good as the one we left behind us, but still it will be of service to him, if he will only set his mind to learn all they can teach, and patiently overcome the difficulties that are in the way.
"He must make the best of a bad job, as we are all trying to do, for to sit down with his hands before him, or to spend all his time in the garden, would just be wasting it. And by-and-bye, he might have as great cause to regret doing that as he now has for the losing the chance of getting a scholarship, that would help him so much to the attainment of his heart's desire."
"But there is no chance of getting a scholarship now," complained Tom. He was very angry with himself for his past folly, and disposed to be angry with other people.
"I am afraid that opportunity has gone for ever, my boy; but I want you to see that you may be repeating the mistake that cost you this, if you do not take the present opportunity of learning all you can at this village school. Although it may not be so good as the other, or afford you the same opportunities as you had before, do it because it is your duty, if you cannot like it. And in trying to do this, things will grow easier as time goes on. You will get used to the noise in the schoolroom and the ways of the boys."
"Ah! And get like them, too," said Tom, sourly.
"I hope not, my boy," said his mother, quickly. "Jack Bond told me one day you had taught him to behave himself properly, and so I do not see why you should sink to the level of these rude, rough boys!"
"Poor old Jack! I liked him," said Tom. "I wonder what he is doing now—whether they have got to their new home, and how they like it." The mention of his old school-fellow had turned Tom's thoughts into a pleasant channel, and he said, "Wouldn't you like to see Jack again, Elsie?"
"Yes, I shouldn't mind," said Elsie, "for he wasn't so bad when you came to know him, and he was very kind to you."
"Jack was a brick," said Tom, admiringly.
"Yes, but he led you into all the mischief that caused our trouble," said his mother, "and so for his sake, as well as for your own, you ought not to let it go further than you can help, but make the best of this school, hard as it may be."
It was not very palatable advice to give the boy just now, and he could not make up his mind to follow it all at once. But he determined to go to school in the afternoon without further grumbling, though whether he would try to make the best of things when he got there was another matter. If it was only like his old school, he would give all his mind to his lessons, he thought, but the chance of going to a school like that was over for ever, and once more Tom sighed in vain regret over his misused opportunities.
A MEMORABLE FIGHT.
TOM did not go to school in the best of humours that Monday afternoon, but plodded sulkily through his lessons. He did not try to please his teacher by taking any great pains with his task, nor did he try to bear more patiently the rude country curiosity of his school-mates.
When school was over, he dawdled along the road towards home, still thinking rather bitterly of what his mother had said, and how little she understood the difficulties in his way, when he was suddenly confronted with a big stolid-looking boy, who said in an aggressive tone:
"What be you coming here for, and putting the teacher up to getting harder books for the little uns? I've been to that school, I have, though I ain't no scholard now, and I tell you, you aren't going to do just as you like along of us, so take that," and the big bully felled Tom to the ground with one blow of his fist.
"What do you mean by that?" said Tom, springing to his feet again as soon as he could, and following his antagonist, who seemed disposed to walk off when he saw Tom on his feet again.
"Look here! if you want to fight, and ain't a coward as well as a bully, I'm ready for you." And Tom threw off his jacket, while the boys of the village gathered round to see the fun, and cheer their champion.
"Give it him, Bill. Knock the stuffing out of him this time," shouted one boy, whom Tom recognised as a class-mate. And this lad danced with glee when he saw the big boy turn and face Tom.
"If you want a hiding, you can have it," he said, speaking to Tom; and he made another heavy lunge at Tom.
But he was prepared for it this time, and eluded his antagonist in such a fashion that he managed to plant a well-aimed blow the next minute between the other's eyes, which was so unexpected that he struck out wildly and blindly in all directions, while Tom contrived to dodge about in such a nimble manner that his heavier antagonist had very little chance of dealing another blow like the first.
The boys shouted for their champion at first, but Tom's pluck and clever dodging of his attempted blows compelled their admiration, so that before the fight was over, only Bill's little brother was found shouting,—
"Give it him, Bill. Go it again, Bill; give him another like the first!"
The fight was still in progress, though Tom was looking white and exhausted, when one of the teachers came along, and seeing Tom was ready to drop, though still parrying the blows of his foe, and getting one in where he could, he stepped into the midst of the crowd of boys.
"Now, Crane, what does this mean?" he demanded, sharply.
"Please, sir, it's all fair," gasped Tom, and then a deadly whiteness overspread his face, and to the consternation of the crowd, he dropped as he spoke, and lay helpless and motionless at Bill's feet.
Every boy felt sure Tom was dead, and an audible groan went up from the young rustics; and the redoubtable Bill took to his heels, and, roaring like a bull, fled down the village street, closely followed by his brother and the rest of the boys.
The teacher looked at Tom for a minute, as if debating what he had better do, then picked him up in his arms and carried him to the schoolmaster's house.
"Oh, is he dead? Is he dead?" groaned the invalid girl, when the teacher staggered in with his burden. She had been reclining in an easy-chair at the window, and had seen the whole fight. "Put him on the couch there, Mr. Thompson, and go and fetch mother; father hasn't come in from the church yet."
But Mr. Thompson fetched some water as soon as he could put Tom out of his arms, and did what he could to bring the boy to consciousness before running back to the school for Mrs. Murray. She had been there teaching the sewing-class, and looking after some girls who were kept in, while her husband went to the church to see the clergyman on some business connected with the school.
Tom had so far revived by the time his teacher got back with Mrs. Murray, that he was able to open his eyes and look at the girl by the window, and wonder where he could be.
"Are you better, my boy?" said his teacher, as he came in.
Mrs. Murray's first care was for her daughter. "You should not have brought him here, Mr. Thompson," she said, in a reproachful tone; "the shock will be too great for my poor Mollie."
"Never mind me; I am sure he must be ill," said the girl.
"No, no; I am better," said Tom, trying to raise himself; but he turned sick and faint when he attempted to move, and he closed his eyes in great disgust with himself, because he was so much upset by this fight.
In the meanwhile, the news had spread through the village like wild-fire, that big Bill Crane had beat the new chap till he dropped down dead, and this was the tale that gossiping Betsy Gunn carried to the cottage, where Mrs. Winn was setting the last stitches in Miss Perceval's dress.
In a minute the work was thrown down, and the widow, closely followed by Elsie, was on the way to the schoolmaster's house, where Betsy told them Tom had been carried. By the time she got there, the village constable had also arrived to know the exact truth of the matter before going in search of Bill Crane. Others, too, had gathered round, so that there was quite a commotion outside when Mr. Murray and the curate came upon the scene.
"What is it; what is the matter?" asked the schoolmaster, seeing Mrs. Winn's white, scared face as she came up to the door.
"My boy! My boy!" she panted, pushing her way in without ceremony.
Tom heard his mother's voice, and managed to gasp out, "Mother, mother, I am sorry."
The revulsion of feeling on hearing Tom speak, although his voice was faint and husky, was almost too much for the widow, and she sank down upon a chair exclaiming, "Thank God, he is alive!"
Elsie was scarcely less overcome, but she managed to explain that it was Betsy Gunn who had been to tell them that he was dead.
"It was all through that wicked Bill Crane," said Mary, from her place near the window. "It was really only a boy's fight, you know; only your brother fainted, and I was afraid he was dead at first."
Elsie went and kissed Tom to assure herself that he really was alive, and not much hurt, and then she went over to the window to speak to the invalid.
"I am so sorry Tom should have given you such a fright," she said, for she had heard Mrs. Murray telling the curate that this shock would be sure to make Mary worse. "I hope you will not really be ill through it," she added.
"Oh, it does not much matter, a little more or less illness, when one is so useless as I am," said the girl; but she allowed Elsie to hold her thin, white hand in her strong, capable one, and the contact of the warm fingers seemed to please her, and she said, "Let me hold your hand a minute; I like to feel hands like yours—they seem to do me good."
"What a funny fancy," laughed Elsie; but she gave the girl both her hands to hold, and for a minute or two the girls were left to themselves, while the rest were busy around Tom, who was reviving rapidly under the milk and brandy that was being given to him by Mrs. Murray and his mother.
By the time the doctor came upon the scene, the boy was able to sit up, and was preparing to walk home with his mother and sister.
"This should be a lesson to you against fighting," said the curate, as he was leaving.
"But that big fellow knocked him down first," said Mary, who heard the remark. "I think he did quite right to stand up and let Bill Crane know he could not bully everybody."
"Mary, Mary, you must not get so excited over this," said her mother, in some alarm.
But Elsie pressed the thin, nerveless fingers in thanks for the words spoken on Tom's behalf.
And the understanding between the girls was so far established that before Elsie went, Mary asked her to come and see her soon. "I am generally alone in the afternoon, because mother has to go to her sewing-class at the school, so if you could bring your sewing and sit with me for an hour, I should be very glad."
Mrs. Murray made some remark about Mary being kept quiet, but she could not second the girl's invitation. And so Elsie walked home feeling that Tom's fight might have some consequences not altogether unpleasant to herself, whatever they might bring to Tom.
For the present he was simply feeling a little weak and stiff, and he readily promised to go to bed as soon as he got home, and let them bring a meal to him after he had rested for an hour.
Beyond a few bruises, that were nothing to Tom, all the effects of the fight were over by the next morning, so far as Tom's health was concerned. And it would soon have been forgotten by Tom, or thought of only as other schoolboy battles were, but for what followed some weeks later.
Tom was working in the garden one Saturday afternoon about a month afterwards, when he was startled all at once by a well-known whistle, and looking up he saw to his delight and amazement his old friend Jack Bond looking over the wall.
"Oh, Jack, where did you spring from?" exclaimed Tom, in eager welcome. "Jump over, can't you?"
"Never fear but what I could do that, but my horse here won't take the leap."
"Got a horse!" said Tom. "Go to the gate then, and I'll come and let you in, though I don't know what we shall do with your nag."
"I'll stable him in the kitchen," said Jack, with a grin; and Tom ran up the garden to announce to his mother and sister that Jack had come.
Arrived at the front garden gate, Tom saw that the "horse" was a very high bicycle, which Jack proudly displayed to Tom.
"I couldn't have come all this way, you know, if I hadn't managed to buy this; for though we ain't more than ten or twelve miles away from you now, twelve miles there and back is too far for a walk. But with a jolly 'bike' like this, I can do it easy," said Jack.
"It is a fine big 'bike!' Why, it must have cost a little fortune."
"No; I got it cheap, because you see this sort are going out of fashion a bit. You see, I'm learning my father's trade, and can earn a little on my own account by working overtime. So when I found the foreman of our job had this 'bike' to sell, I stuck to it, and paid him a little every week till I'd paid half, and then he let me have it. By that time, I had found out that I could ride over to you on a Saturday afternoon, and get back by dark on this 'jigger,' and so I've come."
"And I'm glad enough to see you; and so come in and see my mother, and Elsie, and the baby."
After the "jigger" had been safely bestowed in the shed, Tom and Jack went into the garden for a confab. "What are you doing, Tom?" was Jack's first question when they were by themselves.
"Doing!" repeated Tom. "Why, I've done nearly all the garden; and you can see how it looks," said Tom, with some pride.
"Ah, yes it looks pretty tidy," said Jack, with a cursory glance round the neatly kept beds; "but look here, Tom, I've learned a thing or two since I've been on my job; and if I could have my time over again at school, I wouldn't play the fool there as I often did. I wonder the master had so much patience with us. But that isn't what I'd come to say. Do you know where my job is? Why, at a horticultural college, where they teach fellows to be first-rate gardeners! Now I thought, when I heard it, this is just the sort of place for Tom Winn, if he could only get here. And—"
Tom groaned. "Don't, Jack; don't tell me again what a fool I've been, I know it well enough."
"We were both fools, old fellow, in those days, and I was the worst, for I persuaded you not to go to that scholarship class, and led you into all the mischief. You've forgiven me, old fellow, I know, but I haven't forgiven myself; and I never shall, unless I can do something to make up for what I cost you that time. Well, now, I can see a chance. Do you go to school, old fellow?"
"Yes; but it's such a measly old school, that I expect if I was to ask about a scholarship they'd think it was something to eat."
"Never mind; where is it?" said Jack, impatiently.
"Why, here, to be sure, in Fairfield," answered Tom.
And then he thought that Jack must certainly have taken leave of his senses, for he threw his cap in the air, and shouted "Hip, hip, hurrah!" with such gusto that Elsie put her head out of the kitchen door to see what had happened.
And Tom said, rather curiously, "Are you subject to fits now, Jack?"
"Oh, it's the jolliest thing I ever heard of," said Jack, clapping Tom on the shoulder. "Why, my boy, if you only stick to your books, and let 'em see what you can do, it's as easy as pie to get a scholarship out of that measly old school."
Tom's eyes opened very wide. "How do you make that out?" he asked.
"Well, you know, I've thought of you, and what you might have done if you had only got a scholarship like your sister did, ever since I knew what we were building, and one day I said to my foreman, I know a bloke that would make a first-rate gardener if he could only come here and work in these gardens. The gardens are there already, you see, and they're just finishing the college, where there is to be lessons and lectures."
"Well, what did he say?" asked Tom, eagerly.
"'Why,' he said, 'your friend can come here, I expect, if he happens to go to one of the right schools. There's a list of 'em given, and I'll find out if you like the names of those who have a right to send a scholar here for a year or two. Somebody left a pot of money to this place on purpose.' Well, old fellow, you might have knocked me down with a feather when he read out the name of Fairfield.
"'That's it,' I said to him; 'and if Tom only goes to school again, we've done the trick.' I wasn't long paying for the rest of my 'bike;' and here I am, and there you are, a scholar of one of the schools who can send a boy to this college."
And Jack indulged in such a string of his old grimaces that Tom laughed as heartily as he had ever done in his life.
"Come in to tea," called Elsie at this point.
But instead of going in at once, Tom called her to come and hear the news.
"I say, Elsie, Jack tells me there is a chance for me to get a scholarship at this school, if I only like to try."
"Then that was what Mary meant the other evening when I was telling her about my scholarship," said Elsie. "She said their school had something like that, only nobody had ever won it, because the boys were slow and dull, and did not like book learning, as they called it. Oh, Tom, go and ask Mr. Murray about it directly after tea," said Elsie, excitedly.
And after some further talk, it was agreed that Jack should go with him and see if his information was correct, before the matter was mentioned to Mrs. Winn, who was not very well just now, and did not seem able to bear much worry.
So after tea, the two boys went out for a walk. And by way of excuse for calling upon the schoolmaster, Elsie gave her brother a book to take to her friend Mary.
"Can I speak to Mr. Murray, please?" said Tom, when Mrs. Murray would have taken the book without asking Tom to come in.
"You'll find him in the church, I think. Thank your sister for the book," she added.
The boys turned into the churchyard, for Jack was too anxious to hear that he had not wholly wrecked his friend's chances in life, to go home without knowing just what Tom might expect if he applied for this scholarship.
Anxiety lent them both courage; and so when they saw the schoolmaster and curate coming down the churchyard path, they stepped forward and met them.
"If you please, sir, is it true that there is a scholarship for our school if anybody can get it?"
"Do you mean for the horticultural college?" said the clergyman.
"Yes, sir. Tom would make a tip-top gardener if he could only get there," said bold Jack. And then he told them how he had spoiled Tom's former chance, and had just heard that one more remained, as he attended Fairfield village school.
"Why, we never thought of you wanting to be a gardener, Winn," said the schoolmaster, with a smile. "Let me see; how long have you been at school, my boy?"
"A little more than a month, sir," said Tom.
"Then he will have been here just about long enough to be nominated as a candidate," said the clergyman. "I am very glad you came to speak about it, for I was about to write and say we had no candidate ready. Now, I can say, we shall claim our right to nominate one; only, if you are not to disgrace us all, you will have to work very hard at your books through the summer."
"Yes, sir; I shall not mind that," said Tom, in a tumult of delight, that he could hardly speak.
"His sister won a scholarship before she came here," said Mr. Murray, "so I daresay, he knows something of what will be required of him. That will do, Winn; you can go and tell your mother I will do the best I can for you."
The boys indulged in a few gambols at their success before they went home, and then Jack suddenly grew grave, and said, "I had well-nigh forgotten something I meant to tell you. Just before we moved, which was a fortnight or three weeks after you had gone, I met Alfred Mearns with a chap who had been asking about you,—where you lived, and where you had gone.
"I didn't like the look of the chap, and so when he asked me to give him your address, I told him to go for a walk, for he wouldn't get me peaching on my friends. He told me a lot of blarney about something to your advantage, like the newspapers have it, but I said he might take that tale to the marines, for he wouldn't get anything out of me. I could see what he was after, for he had money written all over him."
"Money," repeated Tom.
"Why, yes; don't you twig? I expect your mother left a few debts owing at the shops. What else could be expected when you were ill so long, and nobody earning a penny all the time. I know what things are when father has been out of work for a week or too. So the next time I saw Alf, I said, 'If ever you should hear where Tom Winn has gone to live, forget it, for they won't want any of that sort of cattle after them where they are—'"
"But—but I don't think my mother owed anything at the shops," said Tom, thoughtfully.
"It isn't likely she'd let you know about it. Bless you, I know your mother. She's one of the brave sort, who will carry the care herself and let the children have the pleasure. But if you see her worrying, tell her there's nothing to fear, for I never let out a word, though I came to the station to see you off, and so she won't be pestered for money down here."
Tom was puzzled, and felt somewhat hurt that his friend should think it possible that they could leave the neighbourhood without paying their debts.
"My mother would never do such a mean thing, however poor she might be," he said.
"All right, I'm glad of it, old fellow; only I have heard of such things being done, if you haven't. And I thought if your mother had been driven to do it, she shouldn't be bothered about it. Perhaps the fellow wanted to sell her a sewing machine," he added, by way of changing the subject; for he could see that Tom was pained at the bare suggestion of such a thing being done by his mother.
HERBERT MILNER.
"WHY, my boy, what have you got there?"
The question was asked by a lady, who looked up from doing some bright wool work, to gaze in astonishment at her son, as he set down a heavy Gladstone-bag upon the table.
It was a handsomely furnished room; and the lad, who seemed to be about fourteen or fifteen, did not seem much accustomed to carry heavy burdens, although he appeared pleased enough with this one.
"Feel it, mother!" he said, bringing it round to her side that she might lift it.
"But what is it, my dear?" she asked, lifting the well-stuffed bag.
"They're Mr. Ramsay's papers and things, that have been sent home from the office—papers, and letters, and all sorts—for you see, he was ill such a long time, that often when he went to his office he could not do anything, and these have been turned out of his private drawer; and so, of course—"