Reginald CrudenA Tale of City Life

By Talbot Baines Reed________________________________________________________________________I suppose this book is not so much aimed at schoolboys as most of thisauthor's books are, as at the young adult starting out in life. Forthe story here is one almost of warning about the mistakes a young manof good will might make in trying to find employment in a hard time. 

The first job he takes is interesting because it is in a typesettingoffice, which the author knew a great deal about, having inherited asimilar business from his father. 

The second job is, quite unknown to the young hero, rather a shady one. It is obvious to us, the readers, because we are allowed certaininformation that Reginald could not have. 

You would enjoy hearing it, or reading it if you must. NH. ________________________________________________________________________REGINALD CRUDENA TALE OF CITY LIFE

BY TALBOT BAINES REED

CHAPTER ONE. 

AN INTERRUPTED BATHE. 

It was a desperately hot day. There had been no day like it all thesummer. Indeed, Squires, the head gardener at Garden Vale, positivelyasserted that there had been none like it since he had been employed onthe place, which was fourteen years last March. Squires, by the way, never lost an opportunity of reminding himself and the world generallyof the length of his services to the family at Garden Vale; and on thestrength of those fourteen years he gave himself airs as if the placebelonged not to Mr Cruden at all, but to himself. He was the terror ofhis mistress, who scarcely dared to peep into a greenhouse without hisleave, and although he could never exactly obtain from the two younggentlemen the respect to which he considered himself entitled, he stillflattered himself in secret "they couldn't do exactly what they likedwith his garden!"

To-day, however, it was so hot that even Squires, after having expressedthe opinion on the weather above mentioned, withdrew himself into thecoolest recess of his snug lodge and slept sweetly, leaving the younggentlemen, had they been so minded, to take any liberty they liked with"his" garden. 

The young gentlemen, however, were not so minded. 

They had been doing their best to play lawn tennis in the blazing sunwith two of their friends, but it was too hot to run, too hot to hit, and far too hot to score, so the attempt had died away, and three ofthem now reclined on the sloping bank under the laurel hedge, dividingtheir time between lazily gazing up at the dark-blue sky and watchingthe proceedings of the fourth of their party, who still remained in thecourts. 

This last-mentioned youth, who, to judge by his countenance, was brotherto one of those who lolled on the bank, presented a curious contrast tothe general languor of the afternoon. Deserted by his companions in thesport, he was relieving himself of some of his superfluous energy by thenovel diversion of playing tennis with himself. This he accomplished byserving the ball high up in the air and then jumping the net, so as totake it on the other side, following up his return by another leap overthe net, and so on till either he or the ball came to grief. On anordinary day the exertion involved in this pastime would be quite enoughfor any ordinary individual, but on a day like the present, with thethermometer at ninety in the shade, it was a trifle too much even towatch. 

"For goodness' sake shut up, Horrors, " said the elder brother. "Wemight as well be playing ourselves as watch you at that sort of thing. "

The young gentleman addressed as Horrors was at that moment in the midstof one of his aerial flights, and had neither leisure nor breath toanswer. 

"Do you hear?" repeated the other. "If you want to keep warm, goindoors and put on a great-coat, but don't fag us to death with thatfoolery. "

"Eight!" exclaimed the young athlete, scoring the number of times theball had crossed the net, and starting for another jump. "Shut up, Reg, till I've done. "

He soon was done. Even Horace Cruden could not keep it up for ever, andat his tenth bound his foot caught in the net, and he came all fours onto the court. 

"There, now you're happy!" said his brother. "Now you may as well comeand sit here out of the cold. "

Horace picked himself up, laughing. 

"All very well, " said he. "I'm certain I should have done it twelvetimes if you hadn't put me off my jump. Never mind, I'll do it yet. "

"Oh, Horace, " interposed one of the others, beseechingly, "if you loveus, lie down now. I'm quite ill watching you, I assure you. We'll allvow we saw you do it twelve times; we'll put it in the _Times_ if youlike, and say the net was five feet ten; anything, as long as you don'tstart at it again. "

This appeal had the effect of reducing the volatile Horace to a state ofquiescence, and inducing him to come and share the shade with hiscompanions. 

"Never saw such a lazy lot, " said he, lying flat on his back andbalancing his racquet on his finger; "you won't do anything yourselvesand you won't let any one else do anything. Regular dogs in themanger. "

"My dear fellow, " said the fourth of the party in a half drawl, "we'vebeen doing nothing but invite you in to the manger for the last hour, and you wouldn't come. Can't you take a holiday while we've got one?"

"Bad luck to it, " said Reginald; "there's only a week more. "

"I don't see why you need growl, old man, " said the visitor who hadspoken first; "you'll get into the sixth and have a study to yourself, and no mathematics unless you like. "

"Poor Harker, " said Horace, "he's always down on mathematics. Anyhow, Ishan't be sorry to show up at Wilderham again, shall you, Bland?"

"Depends on the set we get, " drawled Bland (whose full name wasBlandford). "I hear there's a crowd of new fellows coming, and I hatenew fellows. "

"A fellow must be new some time or other, " said Horace. "Harker and Iwere new boys once, weren't we, Harker?"

Harker, who had shared the distinction of being tossed with Horace inthe same blanket every night for the first week of his sojourn atWilderham, had not forgotten the fact, and ejaculated, --

"Rather!"

"The mischief is, " continued Blandford, "they get such a shady lot offellows there now. The school's not half as respectable as it was--there are far too many shopkeepers' sons and that sort of--"

"Sort of animal, he'd like to say, " laughed Horace. "Bland can't getover being beaten for the French prize by Barber, the tailor's son. "

Blandford flushed up, and was going to answer when Reginald interposed. 

"Well, and suppose he can't, it's no wonder. I don't see why thosefellows shouldn't have a school for themselves. It's not pleasant tohave the fellow who cuts your waistcoat crowing over you in class. "

Horace began to whistle, as he generally did when the conversation tooka turn that did not please him. 

"Best way to remedy that, " said he, presently, "is not to get beaten byyour tailor's son. "

"Shut up, Horace, " said the elder brother; "what's the use of makingyourself disagreeable? Bland's quite right, and you know you think soyourself. "

"Oh, all serene, " said Horace, cheerfully; "shouldn't have known Ithought so unless you had told me. What do you think, Harker?"

"Well, " said Harker, laughing, "as I am disreputable enough to be theonly son of a widow who has barely enough to live on, and who depends onthe charity of a cousin or some one of the sort for my education, I'mafraid Bland and I would have to go to different schools. "

Every one laughed at this confession, and Reginald said, --

"Oh, but you're different, Harker--besides, it isn't money makes thedifference--"

"The thing is, " interposed Horace, "was your father in the wholesale orretail trade?--that's the difference!"

"I wish you'd shut up, Horace, " said Reginald tartly; "you always spoilany argument with your foolery. "

"Now that's hard lines, " said Horace, "when I thought I was putting thecase beautifully for you. Never mind. What do you say to a bathe inthe river, you fellows?"

"Too much fag to get towels, " said Reginald; "but if you like to go forthem, and don't ask us to look at our watches and see in how manyseconds you run up to the house and back, we'll think about it. "

"Thanks, " said Horace, and started up to the house whistling cheerily. 

"Awfully hot that brother of yours make? a fellow, " said Blandford, watching him disappear. 

"Yes, " said Reginald, yawning, "he is rather flighty, but he'll turn outall right, I hope. "

"Turn out!" said Harker; "why he's all right already, from the crown ofhis head to the sole of his boot. "

"Except, " said Blandford, "for a slight crack in the crown of his head. It's just as well, perhaps, he's not the eldest son, Reg. "

"Well, " said Reginald laughing, "I can hardly fancy Horace the head ofthe family. "

"Must be a rum sensation, " said Harker, "to be an heir and not have tobother your head about how you'll get your bread and butter some day. How many hundred millions of pounds is it you'll come in for, Reg? Iforget. "

"What a humbug you are!" said Reginald; "my father's no better off thana lot of other people. "

"That's a mild way of putting it, anyhow, " said Blandford. 

And here the conversation ended. 

The boys lay basking in the sun waiting for Horace's return. He wasunusually long in coming. 

"Seems to me, " said Blandford, "he's trying how long he can be insteadof how quick--for a variety. "

"Just like him, " said Reginald. 

Five minutes passed away, and ten, and fifteen, and then, just as theboys were thinking of stirring themselves to inquire what had become ofhim, they heard his steps returning rapidly down the gravel walk. 

"Well, " cried Reginald, without sitting up, "have you got them at last?"

Horace's voice startled them all as he cried, --

"Reg! Reg! come quick, quick!"

There was no mistaking either the tones or the white face of the boy whouttered them. 

Reginald was on his feet in an instant, rushing in the direction of thehouse, towards which his brother had already started. 

"What is it, Horace?" he said as he overtook him. 

"Something about father--a telegram, " gasped the other. 

Not another word was spoken as they ran on and reached the hall door. 

The hall door stood open. Just outside on the hot stone steps lay thetowels where Horace had dropped them five minutes ago. Carlo, the dog, lay across the mat, and lazily lifted his head as his master approached. Within stood Mrs Cruden, pale and trembling, with a telegram in herhand, and in the back-ground hovered three or four servants, withmingled curiosity and anxiety on their faces. 

Despite the heat, Reginald shivered as he stood a moment at the door, and then sprang towards the telegram, which his mother gave into hishand. It was from Mr Cruden's coachman, dated from Saint Nathaniel'sHospital. 

"Master was took ill driving from City--brought here, where he is verybad indeed. Doctor says no hope. "

One needs to have received such a message oneself to understand theemotions with which the two brothers read and re-read the pitilesswords. Nothing but their own hard breathing broke the stillness ofthose few minutes, and who knows in that brief space what a lifetimeseemed crowded?

Horace was the first to recover his self-possession. 

"Mother, " said he, and his voice sounded strange and startling in thesilence, "there's a train to the City in five minutes. I'll go bythat. "

And he was off. It was three-quarters of a mile to the station, andthere was no time to parley. Even on an errand like this, many wouldhave abandoned the endeavour as an impossibility, especially in such aheat. But Horace was a good runner, and the feat was nothing uncommonfor him. 

As he flung himself into the train he gave one quick glance round, tosee if Reginald had possibly followed him; but no, he was alone; and asthe whistle shrieked and the train steamed out of the station, Horacefor the first time had a moment to reflect. 

Not half an hour ago he had been lying with his brother and companionson the tennis lawn, utterly unconscious of any impending calamity. Whatages ago that seemed! For a few minutes all appeared so confused andunreal that his mind was a blank, and he seemed even to forget on whaterrand he was bound. 

But Horace was a practical youth, and before that half-hour's journey tothe City was accomplished he was at least collected in mind, andprepared to face the trial that awaited him. 

There was something about the telegram that convinced him it meant morethan it said. Still, a boy's hopefulness will grasp at a straw, and hebattled with his despair. His father was not dead--he would recover--atthe hospital he would have the best medical assistance possible. Thecoachman who sent the telegram would be sure to make things out at theworst. Yes, when he got to Saint Nathaniel's he would find it was afalse alarm, that there was nothing much the matter at all, and when hismother and Reginald arrived by the next train, he would be able to meetthem with reassuring news. It was not more than a ten-minutes' cab-drive from the terminus--the train was just in now; in twelve minutesthis awful suspense would be at an end. 

Such was the hurried rush of thoughts through the poor boy's brainduring that dismal journey. He had sprung from the carriage to a hansomcab almost before the train had pulled up, and in another moment wasclattering over the stones towards the hospital. 

The hopes of a few minutes before oozed away as every street cornerbrought him nearer his destination, and when at last the stately frontof Saint Nathaniel's loomed before him, he wished his journey couldnever end. He gazed with faltering heart up at the ward windows, as ifhe could read his fate there. The place seemed deserted. A few streetboys were playing on the pavement, and at the door of the in-patients'ward a little cluster of visitors were collected round a flower stallbuying sweet mementoes of the country to brighten the bedsides of theirfriends within. No one heeded the pale scared boy as he alighted andwent up the steps. 

A porter opened the door. 

"My father, Mr Cruden, is here; how is he?"

"Is it the gentleman that was brought in in a fit?"

"Yes, in his carriage--is he better?"

"Will you step in and see the doctor?"

The doctor was not in his room when the boy was ushered in, and itseemed an age before he entered. 

"You are Mr Cruden's son?" said he gravely. 

"Yes--is he better?"

"He was brought here about half-past three, insensible, with apoplexy. "

"Is he better now?" asked Horace again, knowing perfectly well what thedreaded answer would be. 

"He is not, my boy, " said the doctor gravely. "We telegraphed to yourmother at once, as you know--but before that telegram could have reachedher your poor father--"

It was enough. Poor Horace closed his ears convulsively against thefatal word, and dropped back on his chair with a gasp. 

The doctor put his hand kindly on the boy's shoulder. 

"Are you here alone?" said he, presently. 

"My mother and brother will be here directly. "

"Your father lies in a private ward. Will you wait till they come, orwill you go up now?"

A struggle passed through the boy's mind. An instinctive horror of asight hitherto unknown struggled hard with the impulse to rush at onceto his father's bedside. At length he said, falteringly, --

"I will go now, please. "

When Mrs Cruden and Reginald arrived half an hour later, they foundHorace where the doctor had left him, on his knees at his father'sbedside. 

CHAPTER TWO. 

A COME-DOWN IN THE WORLD. 

Mr Cruden had the reputation of being one of the most respectable aswell as one of the richest men in his part of the county. And it isfair to say he took far more pride in the former quality than thelatter. Indeed, he made no secret of the fact that he had not alwaysbeen the rich man he was when our story opens. But he was touchy on thesubject of his good family and his title to the name of gentleman, whichhe had taught his sons to value far more than the wealth whichaccompanied it, and which they might some day expect to inherit. 

His choice of a school for them was quite consistent with his views onthis point. Wilderham was not exactly an aristocratic school, but itwas a school where money was thought less of than "good style, " as theboys called it, and where poverty was far less of a disgrace than even aremote connection with a "shop. " The Crudens had always been greatheroes in the eyes of their schoolfellows, for their family wasunimpeachable, and even with others who had greater claims to beconsidered as aristocratic, their ample pocket-money commended them asmost desirable companions. 

Mr Cruden, however, with all his virtues and respectability, was not agood man of business. People said he let himself be imposed upon byothers who knew the value of money far better than he did. His ownbeautiful estate at Garden Vale, Rumour said, was managed at double theexpense it should be; and of his money transactions and speculations inthe City--well, he had need to be the wealthy man he was, said hisfriends, to be able to stand all the fleecing he came in for there!

Nevertheless, no one ever questioned the wealth of the Crudens, least ofall did the Crudens themselves, who took it as much for granted as theatmosphere they breathed in. 

On the day on which our story opens Mr Cruden had driven down into theCity on business. No one knew exactly what the business was, for hekept such matters to himself. It was an ordinary expedition, whichconsisted usually of half a dozen calls on half a dozen stockbrokers orsecretaries of companies, with perhaps an occasional visit to the familylawyer or the family bank. 

To-day, however, it had consisted of but one visit, and that was to thebank. And it was whilst returning thence that Mr Cruden was suddenlyseized with the stroke which ended in his death. Had immediateassistance been at hand the calamity might have been averted, butneither the coachman nor footman was aware of what had happened till thecarriage was some distance on its homeward journey, and a passer-bycaught sight of the senseless figure within. They promptly drove him tothe nearest hospital, and telegraphed the news to Garden Vale; but MrCruden never recovered consciousness, and, as the doctor told Horace, before even the message could have reached its destination he was dead. 

We may draw a veil over the sad scenes of the few days which followed--of the meeting of the widow and her sons at the bedside of the dead, ofthe removal of the loved remains home, of the dismal preparations forthe funeral, and all the dreary details which occupy mourners in thehouse of death. For some time Mrs Cruden, prostrated by the shock ofher bereavement, was unable to leave her room, and the burden of thecare fell on the two inexperienced boys, who had to face it almostsingle-handed. 

For the Crudens had no near relatives in England, and those of theirfriends who might have been of service at such a time feared to intrude, and so stayed away. Blandford and Harker, the boys' two friends who hadbeen visiting at Garden Vale at the time of Mr Cruden's death, had leftas quietly and considerately as possible; and so great was thedistraction of those few sad days that no one even noticed their absencetill letters of condolence arrived from each. 

It was a dreary week, and Reginald, on whom, as the elder son and theheir to the property, the chief responsibility rested, was of the twoleast equal to the emergency. 

"I don't know what I should have done without you, old man, " said he toHorace on the evening before the funeral, when, all the preparationsbeing ended, the two boys strolled dismally down towards the river. "You ought to have been the eldest son. I should never have thought ofhalf the things there were to be done if you hadn't been here. "

"Of course, mother would have known what was to be done, " said Horace, "if she hadn't been laid up. She's to get up this evening. "

"Well, I shall be glad when to-morrow's over, " said Reginald; "it'sawful to have it all hanging over one like this. I can't believe fatherwas alive a week ago, you know. "

"No more can I, " said the other; "and I'm certain we shall not realisehow we miss him for long enough yet. "

They walked on for some distance in silence, each full of his ownreflections. 

Then Horace said, "Mother is sure to want to stay on here, she's so fondof the place. "

"Yes, it's a comfort she won't have to move. By the way, I wonder ifshe will want us to leave Wilderham and stay at home now. "

"I fancy not. Father wanted you to go to Oxford in a couple of years, and she is sure not to change his plan. "

"Well, I must say, " said Reginald, "if I am to settle down as a countrygentleman some day, I shall be glad to have gone through college and allthat sort of thing before. If I go up in two years, I shall havefinished before I'm twenty-three. Hullo, here's mother!"

The boys ran forward to greet Mrs Cruden, who, pale but smiling, camequietly down the garden towards them, and after a fond embrace laid herhands on the arm of each and walked slowly on between them. 

"You two brave boys, " said she, and there was a cheery ring in her voicethat sent comfort into the hearts of both her sons, "how sorry I am tothink of all you have had to go through, while I, like a silly weakwoman, have been lying in bed. "

"Oh, mother, " said Horace, with a face that reflected already thesunshine of hers, "how absurd to talk like that! I don't believe youought to be out here now. "

"Oh yes, I ought. I've done with that, and I am strong enough now tostand beside the boys who have stood so bravely by their mother. "

"We'd be a nice pair of boys if we didn't, eh, Reg?" said Horace. 

Reginald's reply was a pressure of his mother's hand, and with a rainbowof smiles over their sorrowful hearts the three walked on lovinglytogether; the mother with many a brave, cheery word striving to lift hersons above their trouble, not only to hope of earthly comfort, but totrust in that great Father of the fatherless, beside whom all the loveof this world is poor and fleeting. 

At length they turned to go in, and Mrs Cruden said, --

"There is a letter from Mr Richmond, the lawyer, saying he will callthis evening to talk over some business matters. I suppose he will behere by now. "

"Couldn't he have waited till after to-morrow?" said Horace. 

"He particularly asked to come to-night, " said the mother. "At anyrate, I would like you both to be with me while he is here. We must nothave any secrets from one another now. "

"I suppose it's about the will or the estate, " said Reginald. 

"I suppose so. I don't know, " said Mrs Cruden. "Mr Richmond alwaysmanaged your father's business affairs, you know, so he will be able totell us how matters stand. "

They reached the house, and found Mr Richmond had already arrived andwas awaiting them in the library. 

Mr Richmond was a solemn, grave personage, whose profession was writtenon his countenance. His lips were so closely set that it seemed as ifspeaking must be a positive pain to him, his eyes had the knack oflooking past you, as though he was addressing not you but your shadow onthe wall, and he ended every sentence, no matter what its import, with amechanical smile, as though he were at that instant having hisphotograph taken. Why Mr Cruden should have selected Mr Richmond ashis man of business was a matter only known to Mr Cruden himself, forthose who knew the lawyer best did not care for him, and, without beingable to deny that he was an honest man and a well-meaning man, were atleast glad that their affairs were in the hands of some one else. 

He rose and solemnly greeted the widow and her two sons as they entered. 

"I am sorry to intrude at such a time, " said he, "but as your latehusband's adviser, I considered it right to call and make you acquaintedwith his affairs. "

Here Mr Richmond smiled, greatly to Reginald's indignation. 

"Thank you, " said Mrs Cruden; "sit down, please, Mr Richmond. "

Mr Richmond obeyed, dubiously eyeing the two boys as he did so. 

"These are your sons, I presume?" said he to Mrs Cruden. 

"They are, " said she. 

Mr Richmond rose and solemnly shook hands with each of the lads, informing each with a smile as he did so that he was pleased to make hisacquaintance. 

"You wish the young gentlemen to remain, perhaps?" he inquired, as heresumed his seat. 

"To be sure, " said Mrs Cruden, somewhat nettled at the question; "goon, please, Mr Richmond. "

"Certainly, madam, " said the lawyer. "May I ask if you are acquaintedwith the late Mr Cruden's state of affairs?"

"I wish to hear that from you, " said the widow, "and with as littledelay as possible, Mr Richmond. "

"Certainly, madam. Mr Cruden honoured me with his confidence on thesematters, and I believe, next to himself, I knew more about them than anyone else. "

Here Mr Richmond paused and smiled. 

"In fact, " continued he, "I may almost say I knew more about them thanhe did himself, for your excellent husband, Mrs Cruden, was not a goodman of business. "

Reginald could not stand the smile which accompanied this observation, and said, somewhat hotly, --

"Look here, Mr Richmond, if you will say what you've got to say withoutlaughing and speaking disrespectfully of my father, we shall be glad. "

"Certainly, Master Cruden, " said the lawyer, a trifle disconcerted bythis unexpected interruption. Then turning to the widow he continued, --

"The fact is, madam, the late Mr Cruden was, I fear, under theimpression that he was considerably better off than he was. "

Mr Richmond paused as if for a reply, but as no one spoke hecontinued, --

"I am sorry to say this appears to have been the case to a much largerextent than even I imagined. Your late husband, Mrs Cruden, I believespent largely on his estate here, and unfortunately kept no accounts. Ihave frequently entreated him to reckon over his expenditure, but healways replied that it was considerably under his income, and that therewas no need, as long as that was the case, to trouble himself about it. "

A nervous movement among his listeners was the only reply the lawyerreceived to this last announcement, or to the smile which accompaniedit. 

"Mr Cruden _may_ have been correct in his conjecture, madam, although Ifear the contrary. "

"If my father said a thing, " blurted out Reginald at this point, "I seeno reason for doubting his word. "

"None in the least, my dear Master Cruden; but unfortunately your fatherdid not know either what his income was or what his expenditure was. "

"Do _you_ know what they were?" said Reginald, not heeding thedeprecating touch of his mother's hand on his. 

"As far as I understand the state of your father's affairs, " said MrRichmond, undisturbed by the rude tone of his inquisitor, "his incomewas entirely derived from interest in the stock of two Americanrailways, in which he placed implicit confidence, and in one or theother of which he insisted on investing all capital which came to hishand. The total income from these two sources would in my opinion justabout cover Mr Cruden's various expenses of all kinds. "

There was something like a sigh of relief from the listeners as MrRichmond reached this point. But it died away as he proceeded. 

"In his choice of an investment for his capital Mr Cruden consulted noone, I believe, beyond himself. For some time it seemed a fortunateinvestment, and the shares rose in value, but latterly they took a turnfor the worse, and early this year I am sorry to say one of the railwayssuspended payment altogether, and Mr Cruden lost a considerable portionof his fortune thereby. "

"I heard my husband say some months ago that he had made some slightloss in the City, " said Mrs Cruden, "but I imagined from the lightmanner in which he treated it that it was quite trifling, and would bequickly repaired. "

"He did hope that would be the case. Although all his friends urged himto sell out at once, he insisted on holding on, in the hope of therailway recovering itself. "

"And has it recovered?" asked Mrs Cruden, with a tremble in her voice. 

"I regret to say it has not, Mrs Cruden. On the contrary, it wasdeclared bankrupt a few days ago, and what is still more deplorable, ithas involved in its own ruin the other railway in which the remainder ofyour husband's property was invested, so that all the shares which standin his name in both concerns are now worth no more than the paper theyare printed on. "

Mr Richmond came to the point at last with startling abruptness, somuch so that for a moment or two his listeners sat almost petrified bythe bad news, and unable to say a word. The lawyer finished what he hadto say without waiting. 

"Your husband heard this lamentable news, Mrs Cruden, on the occasionof his last visit to the City. The only call he made that day was athis banker's, where he was told all, and there is no reason to doubtthat the shock produced the stroke from which he died. "

"Mr Richmond, " said Mrs Cruden, after a while, like one in a dream, "can this be true? What _does_ it all mean?"

"Alas! madam, " said the lawyer, "it would be no kindness on my part todeny the truth of what I have told you. It means that unless you oryour late husband are possessed of some means of income of which I knownothing, your circumstances are reduced to a very low point. "

"But there must be some mistake, " said Horace. "_Both_ railways can'thave gone wrong; we shall surely save something?"

"I wish I could hold out any hope. I have all the documents at myoffice, and shall be only too glad, Mrs Cruden, to accompany you to thebank for your own satisfaction. "

Mrs Cruden shuddered and struggled bravely to keep down the risingtears. A long pause ensued, every moment of which made the terribletruth clearer to all three of the hearers, and closed every loophole ofhope. 

"What can be done?" said Horace at last. 

"Happily there is Garden Vale, " said Reginald, and there was a chokingin the throat of the heir as he spoke; "we shall have to sell it. "

"The contents of it, you will, Master Cruden, " said the lawyer; "theestate itself is held on lease. "

"Well, the contents of it, " said Reginald, bitterly; "you are not goingto make out they don't belong to us?"

"Certainly not, " said Mr Richmond, on whom the taunt was quite lost;"unless, as I trust is not the case, your father died in debt. "

"Do you mean to say, " said Horace, slowly, like one waking from a dream, "do you mean to say we are ruined, Mr Richmond?"

"I fear it is so, " said the lawyer, "unless Mr Cruden was possessed ofsome means of income with which I was not acquainted. I regret verymuch, Mrs Cruden, having to be the bearer of such bad news, and I canonly say the respect I had for your late husband will make anyassistance I can offer you, by way of advice or otherwise, a pleasure. "And Mr Richmond bowed himself out of the room with a smile. 

It was a relief to be left alone, and Mrs Cruden, despite her weaknessand misery, struggled hard for the sake of her boys to put a brave faceon their trouble. 

"Reg, dear, " said she to her eldest son, who had fairly broken down, andwith his head on his hand was giving vent to his misery, "try to bearit. After all, we are left to one another, and--"

The poor mother could not finish her sentence, but bent down and kissedthe wet cheek of the boy. 

"Of course it means, " said Horace, after a pause, "we shall have to giveup Garden Vale, and leave Wilderham too. And Reg was sure of ascholarship next term. I say, mother, what _are_ we to do?"

"We are all strong enough to do something, dear boy, " said Mrs Cruden. 

"I'll take care _you_ don't have to do anything, mother, " said Reginald, looking up. "I'll work my fingers to the bones before you have to comedown to that. " He spoke with clenched teeth, half savagely. 

"Even if we can sell all the furniture, " continued Horace, taking apractical view of the situation, "it wouldn't give us much to live on. "

"Shut up, Horace!" said Reginald. "What's the use of making the worstof everything? Hasn't mother had quite enough to bear already?"

Horace subsided, and the three sat there in silence until the daylightfaded and the footman brought in the lights and announced that coffeewas ready in the drawing-room. 

There was something like a shock about this interruption. What had theyto do with men-servants and coffee in the drawing-room, they who an houror two ago had supposed themselves wealthy, but now knew that they werelittle better than beggars?

"We shall not want coffee, " said Mrs Cruden, answering for all three. Then when the footman had withdrawn, she said, --

"Boys, I must go to bed. God bless you, and give us all brave hearts, for we shall need them!"

The funeral took place next day. Happily it was of a simple character, and only a few friends were invited, so that it was not thoughtnecessary to alter the arrangements in consequence of Mr Richmond'sannouncement of the evening before. But even the slight expenseinvolved in this melancholy ceremony grated painfully on the minds ofthe boys, who forgot even their dead father in the sense that they wereriding in carriages for which they could not pay, and offering theirguests refreshments which were not theirs to give. The little cemeterywas crowded with friends and acquaintances of the dead--country gentrymost of them, who sought to show their respect for their late neighbourby falling into the long funeral procession and joining the throng atthe graveside. 

It was a severe ordeal for the two boys to find themselves the centresof observation, and to feel that more than half the interest exhibitedin them was on account of their supposed inheritance. 

One bluff squire came up after the funeral and patted Reginald on theback. 

"Never mind, my boy, " said he; "I was left without a father at your age. You'll soon get over it, and your mother will have plenty of friends. Glad to see you up at the Hall any day, and your brother too. You mustjoin our hunt next winter, and keep up the family name. God bless you!"

Reginald shrank from this greeting like a guilty being, and the twodesolate boys were glad to escape further encounters by retreating totheir carriage and ordering the coachman to drive home at once. 

A few days disclosed all that was wanting to make their position quiteclear. Mr Cruden's will confirmed Mr Richmond's statement as to thesource of his income. All his money was invested in shares of the tworuined railways, and all he had to leave besides these was the furnitureand contents of Garden Vale. Even this, when realised, would do littlemore than cover the debts which the next week or two brought to light. It was pitiful the way in which that unrelenting tide of bills flowedin, swamping gradually the last hope of a competency, or even means ofbare existence, for the survivors. 

Neither Mrs Cruden nor her sons had been able to endure a day's delayat Garden Vale after the funeral, but had hurried for shelter to quietlodgings at the seaside, kept by an old servant, where in an agony ofsuspense they awaited the final result of Mr Richmond's investigations. 

It came at last, and, bad as it was, it was a comfort to know the worst. The furniture, carriages, and other contents of Garden Vale hadsufficed to pay all debts of every description, with a balance of about£350 remaining over and above, to represent the entire worldlypossessions of the Cruden family, which only a month ago had ranked withthe wealthiest in the county. 

"So, " said Mrs Cruden, with a shadow of her old smile, as she folded upthe lawyer's letter and put it back in her pocket, "we know the worst atlast, boys. "

"Which is, " said Reginald, bitterly, "we are worth among us themagnificent sum of sixteen pounds per annum. Quite princely!"

"Reg, dear, " said his mother, "let us be thankful that we have anything, and still more that we may start life owing nothing to any one. "

"Start life!" exclaimed Reginald; "I wish we could end it with--"

"Oh, hush, hush, my precious boy!" exclaimed the widow; "you will breakmy heart if you talk like that! Think how many there are to whom thislittle sum would seem a fortune. Why, it may keep a roof over ourheads, at any rate, or help you into situations. "

"Or bury us!" groaned Reginald. 

The mother looked at her eldest son, half in pity, half in reproach, andthen burst into tears. 

Reginald sprang to her side in an instant. 

"What a beast I am!" he exclaimed. "Oh, mother, do forgive me! Ireally didn't think what I was saying. "

"No, dear Reggie, I know you didn't, " said Mrs Cruden, recoveringherself with a desperate effort. "You mustn't mind me, I--I scarcely--know--I--"

It was no use trying. The poor mother broke down completely, and onthat evening it was impossible to talk more about the future. 

Next morning, however, all three were in a calmer mood, and Horace saidat breakfast, "We can't do any good here, mother. Hadn't we better goto London?"

"I think so; and Parker here knows of a small furnished lodging in DullStreet, which she says is cheap. We might try there to begin with. Eh, Reg?"

Reginald winced, and then replied, "Oh, certainly; the sooner we getdown to our right level the better. "

That evening the three Crudens arrived in London. 

CHAPTER THREE. 

NUMBER SIX, DULL STREET. 

Probably no London street ever rejoiced in a more expressive name thanDull Street. It was not a specially dirty street, or a speciallydisreputable street, or a specially dark street. The neighbourhoodmight a hundred years ago have been considered "genteel, " and the houseseven fashionable, and some audacious antiquarians went so far as toassert that the street took its name not from its general appearance atall, but from a worthy London alderman, who in the reign of George theFirst had owned most of the neighbouring property. 

Be that as it may, Dull Street was--and for all I know may still be--oneof the dullest streets in London. A universal seediness pervaded itshouses from roof to cellar; nothing was as it should be anywhere. Thewindow sashes had to be made air-tight by wedges of wood or paper stuckinto the frames; a bell in Dull Street rarely sounded after less thansix pulls; there was scarcely a sitting-room but had a crack in itsgrimy ceiling, or a handle off its ill-hung door, or a strip of wall-paper peeling off its walls. There were more chairs in the furnishedapartments of Dull Street with three legs than there were with four, andthere was scarcely horsehair enough in the twenty-four sofas of itstwenty-four parlours to suffice for an equal quantity of bolsters. 

In short, Dull Street was the shabbiest genteel street in themetropolis, and nothing could make it otherwise. 

A well-built, tastefully-furnished house in the middle of it would havebeen as incongruous as a new patch in an old garment, and no one dreamtof disturbing the traditional aspect of the place by any attempt torepair or beautify it. 

Indeed, the people who lived in Dull Street were as much a part of itsdulness as the houses they inhabited. They were for the most partretired tradesmen, or decayed milliners, or broken-down Governmentclerks, most of whom tried to eke out their little pensions by lettingpart of their lodgings to others as decayed and broken-down asthemselves. 

These interesting colonists, whose one bond of sympathy was a mutualseediness, amused themselves, for the most part, by doing nothing allday long, except perhaps staring out of the window, in the remote hopeof catching sight of a distant cab passing the street corner, orwatching to see how much milk their opposite neighbour took in, orreading the news of the week before last in a borrowed newspaper, ortalking scandal of one neighbour to another. 

"Jemima, my dear, " said a middle-aged lady, who, with her son anddaughter, was the proud occupant of Number 4, Dull Street--"Jemima, mydear, I see to-day the bill is hout of the winder of number six. "

"Never!" replied Jemima, a sharp-looking young woman of twenty, who hadonce in her life spent a month at a ladies' boarding-school, and wastherefore decidedly genteel. "I wonder who's coming. "

"A party of three, so I hear from Miss Moulden's maid, which is niece toMrs Grimley: a widow, "--here the speaker snuffled slightly--"and twochilder--like me. "

"Go on!" said Jemima. "Any more about them, ma?"

"Well, my dear, I do hear as they 'ave come down a bit. "

"Oh, ah! lag!" put in the speaker's son, a lawyer's clerk in the receiptof two pounds a week, to whom this intelligence appeared particularlyamusing; "we know all about that--never heard that sort of tale before, have we, ma? Oh no!" and the speaker emphasised the question by givinghis widowed mother a smart dig in the ribs. 

"For shame, Sam! don't be vulgar!" cried the worthy lady; "how manytimes have I told you?"

"All right, ma, " replied the legal young gentleman; "but it is rather awonner, you know. What were they before they came down?"

"Gentlefolk, so I'm told, " replied the lady, drawing herself up at thevery mention of the name; "and I hintend, and I 'ope my children will dothe same, to treat them as fellow-creatures with hevery consideration. "

"And how old is the babies, ma?" inquired Miss Jemima, whose gentilitysometimes had the advantage of her grammar. 

"The babies!" said the mother; "why, they're young gentlemen, both of'em--old enough to be your sweethearts!"

Sam laughed profusely. 

"Then what did you say they was babies for?" demanded Jemima, pettishly. 

"I never!"

"You did, ma, I heard you! Didn't she, Sam?"

"So you did, ma. Come now, no crackers!" said Sam. 

"I never; I said `childer, '" pleaded the mother. 

"And ain't babies childer?" thundered Miss Jemima. 

"'Ad 'er there, Jim!" chuckled the dutiful Samuel, this time favouringhis sister with a sympathetic nudge. "Better give in, and own you tolda cracker, ma!"

"Shan't!" said the lady, beginning to whimper. "Oh, I wish my poor'Oward was here to protect me! He was a gentleman, and I'm glad hedidn't live to see what a pair of vulgar brats he'd left behind him, that I am!"

"There you go!" said Sam; "taking on at nothing, as per usual! No onewas saying anything to hurt you, old girl. Simmer down, and you'll beall the better for it. There now, dry your eyes; it's all that Jim, she's got such a tongue! Next time I catch you using language to ma, Jim, I'll turn you out of the house! Come, cheer up, ma. "

"Yes, cheer up, ma, " chimed in Jemima; "no one supposes you meant totell fibs; you couldn't help it. "

Amid consolations such as these the poor flurried lady subsided, andregained her former tranquillity of spirit. 

The Shucklefords--such was the name of this amiable family--werecomparatively recent sojourners in Dull Street. They had come there sixyears previously, on the death of Mr Shuckleford, a respectablewharfinger, who had saved up money enough to leave his wife a smallannuity. Shortly before his death he had been promoted to the commandof one of the Thames steamboats plying between Chelsea and LondonBridge, in virtue of which office he had taken to himself--or rather hiswife had claimed for him--the title of "captain, " and with this patentof gentility had held up her head ever since. Her children, followingher good example, were not slow to hold up their heads too, and werefully convinced of their own gentility. Samuel Shuckleford had, as hismother termed it, been "entered for the law" shortly after his father'sdeath, and Miss Jemima Shuckleford, after the month's sojourn at aladies' boarding-school already referred to, had settled down to assisther mother in the housework and maintain the dignity of the family byliving on her income. 

Such were the new next-door neighbours of the Crudens when at last theyarrived, sadly, and with the new world before them, at Number 6, DullStreet. 

Mr Richmond, who, with all his unfortunate manner, had acted a friend'spart all along, had undertaken the task of clearing up affairs at GardenVale, superintending the payment of Mr Cruden's debts, the sale of hisfurniture, and the removal to Dull Street of what little remained to thefamily to remind them of their former comforts. 

It might have been better if in this last respect the boys and theirmother had acted for themselves, for Mr Richmond appeared to have hazynotions as to what the family would most value. The first sight whichmet the boys' eyes as they arrived was their tennis-racquets in a cornerof the room. A very small case of trinkets was on Mrs Cruden'sdressing-table, and not one of the twenty or thirty books arranged onthe top of the sideboard was one which any member of the small householdcared anything about. 

But Mr Richmond had done his best, and being left entirely to his owndevices, was not to be blamed for the few mistakes he had made. He wasthere to receive Mrs Cruden when she arrived, and after conducting thelittle party hurriedly through the three rooms destined for theiraccommodation, considerately retired. 

Until the moment when they were left to themselves in the shabby littleDull Street parlour, not one of the Crudens had understood the changewhich had come over their lot. All had been so sudden, so exciting, sounlooked-for during the last few weeks, that all three of them hadseemed to go through it as through a dream. But the awakening came now, and a rude and cruel one it was. 

The little room, dignified by the name of a parlour, was a dingy, stuffyapartment of the true Dull Street type. The paper was faded and torn, the ceiling was discoloured, the furniture was decrepit, the carpet wasthreadbare, and the cheap engraving on the wall, with its title, "AsHappy as a King, " seemed to brood over the scene like some mockingspirit. 

They passed into Mrs Cruden's bedroom, and the thought of thedelightful snug little boudoir at Garden Vale sent a shiver through themas they glanced at the bare walls, the dilapidated half-tester, thechipped and oddly assorted crockery. 

The boys' room was equally cheerless. One narrow bed, a chair, and asmall washstand, was all the furniture it boasted of, and a few oldcuttings of an antiquated illustrated paper pinned on to the wallafforded its sole decoration. 

A low, dreary whistle escaped from Horace's lips as he surveyed his newquarters, followed almost immediately by an equally dreary laugh. 

"Why, " gasped he, "there's no looking-glass! However is Reg to shave?"

It was an heroic effort, and it succeeded. Mrs Cruden's face lit up atthe sound of her son's voice with its old sunshine, and even Reginaldsmiled grimly. 

"I must let my beard grow, " said he. "But, mother, I say, " and hisvoice quavered as he spoke, "what a miserable room yours is! I can'tbear to think of your being cooped up there. "

"Oh, it's not so bad, " said Mrs Cruden, cheerily. "The pink in thechintz doesn't go well with the scarlet in the wall-paper, certainly, but I dare say I shall sleep soundly in the bed all the same. "

"But such a wretched look-out from the window, mother, and such a _vile_jug and basin!"

Mrs Cruden laughed. 

"Never mind about the jug and basin, " said she, "as long as they holdwater; and as for the look-out--well, as long as I can see my two boys'faces happy, that's the best view I covet. "

"You never think about yourself, " said Reginald, sadly. 

"I say, mother, " said Horace, "suppose we call up the spirits from thevasty deep and ask them to get tea ready. "

This practical suggestion met with general approbation, and the littleparty returned more cheerily to the parlour, where Horace performedmarvellous exploits with the bell-handle, and succeeded, in theincredible time of seven minutes, in bringing up a small slipshod girl, who, after a good deal of staring about her, and a critical survey ofthe pattern of Mrs Cruden's dress, contrived to gather a general ideaof what was required of her. 

It was a queer meal, half ludicrous, half despairing, that first littletea-party in Dull Street. They tried to be gay. Reginald declared thatthe tea his mother poured out was far better than any the footman atGarden Vale used to dispense. Horace tried to make fun of theheterogeneous cups and saucers. Mrs Cruden tried hard to appear asthough she was taking a hearty meal, while she tasted nothing. But itwas a relief when the girl reappeared and cleared the table. 

Then they unpacked their few belongings, and tried to enliven theirdreary lodgings with a few precious mementoes of happier days. Finally, worn out in mind and body, they took shelter in bed, and for a blessedseason forgot all their misery and forebodings in sleep. 

There is no magic equal to that which a night's sleep will sometimeswork. The little party assembled cheerfully at the breakfast-table nextmorning, prepared to face the day bravely. 

A large letter, in Mr Richmond's handwriting, lay on Mrs Cruden'splate. It contained three letters--one from the lawyer himself, and onefor each of the boys from Wilderham. Mr Richmond's letter was briefand business-like. 

"Dear Madam, --Enclosed please find two letters, which I found lying atGarden Vale yesterday. With regard to balance of your late husband'sassets in your favour, I have an opportunity of investing same at anunusually good rate of interest in sound security. Shall be pleased towait on you with particulars. Am also in a position to introduce theyoung gentlemen to a business opening, which, if not at first important, may seem to you a favourable opportunity. On these points I shall havethe honour of waiting on you during to-morrow afternoon, and meanwhilebeg to remain, --

"Your obedient servant, --

"R. Richmond. "

"We ought to make sure what the investment is, " said Reginald, afterhearing the letter read, "before we hand over all our money to him. "

"To be sure, dear, " said Mrs Cruden, who hated the sound of the wordinvestment. 

"I wonder what he proposes for us?" said Horace. "Some clerkship, Isuppose. "

"Perhaps in his own office, " said Reginald. "_What_ an opening thatwould be!"

"Never you mind. The law's very respectable; but I know I'd be no goodfor that. I might manage to serve tea and raisins behind a grocer'scounter, or run errands, or--"

"Or black boots, " suggested Reginald. 

"Black boots! I bet you neither you nor I could black a pair of bootsproperly to save our lives. "

"It seems to me we shall have to try it this very morning, " saidReginald, "for no one has touched mine since last night. "

"But who are your letters from?" said Mrs Cruden. "Are they veryprivate?"

"Not mine, " said Horace. "It's from old Harker. You may read it if youlike, mother. "

Mrs Cruden took the letter and read aloud, --

"Dear Horrors--"

("That's what he calls me, you know, " explained Horace, in aparenthesis. )

"I am so awfully sorry to hear of your new trouble about money matters, and that you will have to leave Garden Vale. I wish I could come overto see you and help you. All the fellows here are awfully cut up aboutit, and lots of them want me to send you messages. I don't know what Ishall do without you this term, old man, you were always a brick to me. Be sure and write to me and tell me everything. As soon as I can getaway for a day I'll come and see you, and I'll write as often as I can. 

"Your affectionate, --

"T. Harker. 

"P. S. --Wilkins, I expect, will be the new monitor in our house. He issure now to get the scholarship Reg was certain of. I wish to goodnessyou were both back here. "

"He might just as well have left out that about the scholarship, " saidReginald; "it's not very cheering news to hear of another fellowstepping into your place like that. "

"I suppose he thought we'd be curious to know, " said Horace. 

"Precious curious!" growled Reginald. 

"But who's your letter from, Reg?" asked Mrs Cruden. 

"Oh, just a line from Bland, " replied he, hastily putting it into hispocket; "he gives no news. "

If truth must be told, Blandford's letter was not a very nice one, andReginald felt it. He did not care to hear it read aloud in contrastwith Harker's warm-hearted letter. Blandford had written, --

"Dear Cruden, --I hope it's not true about your father's money going allwrong. It is a great sell, and fellows here, I know, will be verysorry. Never mind, I suppose there's enough left to make a decent show;and between you and me it would go down awfully well with the fellowshere if you could send your usual subscription to the football club. Harker says you'll have to leave Garden Vale. I'm awfully sorry, as Ialways enjoyed my visits there so much. What are you going to do? Whydon't you try for the army? The exams are not very hard, my brothertold me, and of course it's awfully respectable, if one must work forone's living. I must stop now, or I shall miss tennis. Excuse more. 

"Yours truly, --

"G. Blandford. "

Reginald knew the letter was a cold and selfish one, but it left twothings sticking in his mind which rankled there for a long time. Onewas that, come what would, he would send a guinea to the school footballclub. The other was--was it _quite_ out of the question that he shouldgo into the army?

"Awfully rough on Reg, " said Horace, "being so near that scholarship. It'll be no use to Wilkins, not a bit, and fifty pounds a year would besomething to--"

Horace was going to say "us, " but he pulled up in time and said "Reg. "

"Well, " said Reg, "as things have turned out it might have come inuseful. I wonder if it wouldn't have been wiser, mother, for me to havestayed up this term and made sure of it?"

"I wish you could, Reg; but we have no right to think of it. Besides, you could only have held it if you had gone to college. "

"Oh, of course, " said Reg; "but then it would have paid a good bit of myexpenses there; and I might have gone on from there to the army, youknow, and got my commission. "

Mrs Cruden sighed. What an awakening the boy had still to passthrough!

"We must think of something less grand than that, my poor Reg, " saidshe; "and something we can share all together. I hope Mr Richmond willbe able to hear of some business opening for me, as well as you, for weshall need to put our resources together to get on. "

"Mother, " exclaimed Reginald, overwhelmed with sudden contrition, "whata selfish brute you must think me! You don't think I'd let you workwhile I had a nerve left. I'll do anything--so will Horace, but you_shall not_, mother, you _shall not_. "

Mrs Cruden did not argue the point just then, and in due time MrRichmond arrived to give a new direction to their thoughts. 

The investment he proposed seemed a good one. But, in fact, the littlefamily knew so little about business generally, and money matters inparticular, that had it been the worst security possible they would havehardly been the wiser. 

This point settled, Mr Richmond turned to his proposals for the boys. 

"As I said in my letter, Mrs Cruden, " said he, "the opening is only amodest one. A company has lately been formed to print and publish anevening paper in the city, and as solicitor to the company I had anopportunity of mentioning your sons to the manager. He is willing totake them, provided they are willing to work. The pay will begin ateighteen shillings a week, but I hope they will soon make their valuefelt, and command a better position. They are young yet. "

"What shall we have to do?" asked Horace. 

"That I cannot exactly say, " said the lawyer; "but I believe the managerwould expect you to learn the printer's business from the beginning. "

"What would the hours be?" asked Mrs Cruden. 

"Well, as it is an evening paper, there will fortunately be no latenight work. I believe seven in the morning to eight at night were thehours the manager mentioned. "

"And--and, " faltered the poor mother, who was beginning to realise theboys' lot better than they did themselves--"and what sort of companionsare they likely to have, Mr Richmond?"

"I believe the manager is succeeding in getting respectable men asworkmen. I hope so. "

"Workmen!" exclaimed Reginald, suddenly. "Do you mean we are to beworkmen, Mr Richmond? Just like any fellows in the street. Couldn'tyou find anything better than that for us?"

"My dear Master Cruden, I am very sorry for you, and would gladly seeyou in a better position. But it is not a case where we can choose. This opening has offered itself. Of course, you are not bound to acceptit, but my advice is, take what you can get in these hard times. "

"Oh, of course, we're paupers, I--forgot, " said Reg, bitterly, "andbeggars mayn't be choosers. Anything you like, mother, " added he, meeting Mrs Cruden's sorrowful look with forced gaiety. "I'll sweep acrossing if you like, Mr Richmond, or black your office-boy's boots, --anything to get a living. "

Poor boy! He broke down before he could finish the sentence, and hisflourish ended in something very like a sob. 

Horace was hardly less miserable, but he said less. Evidently, as Reghimself had said, beggars could not be choosers, and when presently MrRichmond left, and the little family talked the matter over late intothe afternoon, it was finally decided that the offer of the manager ofthe _Rocket_ Newspaper Company, Limited, should be accepted, and thatthe boys should make their new start in life on the Monday morningfollowing. 

CHAPTER FOUR. 

THE "ROCKET" NEWSPAPER COMPANY, LIMITED. 

The reader may imagine that the walk our two heroes took Citywards thatMonday morning was not a very cheerful one. It seemed like walking outof one life into another. Behind, like a dream, were the joyous, merrydays spent at Garden Vale and Wilderham, with no care for the future, and no want for the present. Before them, still more like a dream, laythe prospect of their new work, with all its anxiety, and drudgery, andweariness, and the miserable eighteen shillings a week it promised them;and, equally wretched at the present moment, there was the vision oftheir desolate mother, alone in the Dull Street lodgings, where they hadjust left her, unable at the last to hide the misery with which she sawher two boys start out into the pitiless world. 

The boys walked for some time in silence; then Horace said, --

"Old man, I hope, whatever they do, they'll let us be together at thisplace. "

"We needn't expect any such luck, " said Reginald. "It wouldn't be halfso bad if they would. "

"You know, " said Horace, "I can't help hoping they'll take us as clerks, at least. They must know we're educated, and more fit for that sort ofwork than--"

"Than doing common labourer's work, " said Reg. "Rather! If they'd putus to some of the literary work, you know, Horace--editing, orcorrecting, or reporting, or that sort of thing, I could stand that. There are plenty of swells who began like that. I'm pretty well up inclassics, you know, and--well, they might be rather glad to have someone who was. "

Horace sighed. 

"Richmond spoke as if we were to be taken on as ordinary workmen. "

"Oh, Richmond's an ass, " said Reg, full of his new idea; "he knowsnothing about it. I tell you, Horace, they wouldn't be such idiots asto waste our education when they could make use of it. Richmond onlyknows the manager, but the editor is the chief man, after all. "

By this time they had reached Fleet Street, and their attention wasabsorbed in finding the by-street in which was situated the scene oftheir coming labours. They found it at last, and with beating heartssaw before them a building surmounted by a board, bearing in charactersof gold the legend, _Rocket_ Newspaper Company, Limited. 

The boys stood a moment outside, and the courage which had been slowlyrising during the walk evaporated in an instant. Ugly and grimy as thebuilding was, it seemed to them like some fairy castle before which theyshrank into insignificance. A board inscribed, "Work-people'sEntrance, " with a hand on it pointing to a narrow side court, confrontedthem, and mechanically they turned that way. Reginald did for a momenthesitate as he passed the editor's door, but it was no use. The twoboys turned slowly into the court, where, amid the din of machinery, anda stifling smell of ink and rollers, they found the narrow passage whichconducted them to their destination. 

A man at a desk half way down the passage intercepted their progress. 

"Now, then, young fellows, what is it?"

"We want to see the manager, please, " said Horace. 

"No use to-day, my lad. No boys wanted; we're full up. "

"We want to see the manager, " said Reginald, offended at the man's tone, and not disposed to humour it. 

"Tell you we want no boys; can't you see the notice up outside?"

"Look here!" said Reginald, firing up, and heedless of his brother'sdeprecating look; "we don't want any of your cheek. Tell the managerwe're here, will you, and look sharp?"

The timekeeper stared at the boy in amazement for a moment, and thenbroke out with, --

"Take your hook, do you hear, you--or I'll warm you. "

"It's a mistake, " put in Horace, hurriedly. "Mr Richmond said we wereto come here to see the manager at nine o'clock. "

"And couldn't you have said so at first?" growled the man, with his handstill on his ruler, and glaring at Reginald, "without giving yourselvesairs as if you were gentry? Go on in, and don't stand gaping there. "

"For goodness' sake, Reg, " whispered Horace, as they knocked at themanager's door, "don't flare up like that, you'll spoil all our chance. "

Reg said nothing, but he breathed hard, and his face was angry still. 

"Come in!" cried a sharp voice, in answer to their knock. 

They obeyed, and found a man standing with a pen in his mouth at a desk, searching through a file of papers. He went on with his work till hefound what he wanted, apparently quite unconscious of the boys'presence. Then he rang a bell for an overseer, whistled down a tube fora clerk, and shouted out of the door for a messenger, and gave orders toeach. Then he sent for some one else, and gave him a scolding that madethe unlucky recipient's hair stand on end; then he received a visit froma friend, with whom he chatted and joked for a pleasant quarter of anhour; then he took up the morning paper and skimmed through it, whistling to himself as he did so; then he rang another bell and toldthe errand-boy who answered it to bring him in at one o'clock sharp alarge boiled beef underdone, with carrots and turnips, and a pint of "s. And b. " (whatever that might mean). Then he suddenly became aware ofthe fact that he had visitors, and turned inquiringly to the two boys. 

"Mr Richmond--" began Horace, in answer to his look. 

But the manager cut him short. 

"Oh, ah! yes, " he said. "Nuisance! Go to the composing-room and askfor Mr Durfy. "

Saying which he sat down again at his desk, and became absorbed in hispapers. 

It was hardly a flattering reception, and gave our heroes very littlechance of showing off their classical proficiency. They had at leastexpected, as Mr Richmond's nominees, rather more than a half glancefrom the manager; and to be thus summarily turned over to a Mr Durfybefore they had as much as opened their mouths was decidedlyunpromising. 

Reginald did make one feeble effort to prolong the interview, and toimpress the manager at the same time. 

"Excuse me, " said he, in his politest tones, "would you mind directingus to the composing-room? My brother and I don't know the geography ofthe place yet. "

"Eh? Composing-room? Get a boy to show you. Plenty outside. "

It was no go, evidently; and they turned dismally from the room. 

The errand-boy was coming up the passage as they emerged--the sameerrand-boy they had seen half an hour ago in the manager's room; but, astheir classical friends would say--

"Quantum mutatus ab illo Hectore!"

His two arms were strung with the handles of frothing tin cans from theelbow to the wrist. He carried two tin cans in his mouth. His apronwas loaded to bursting with bread, fish, cheese, potatoes, and otheredibles; the necks of bottles protruded from all his pocket's, --from thebosom of his jacket and from the fob of his breeches, --and round hisneck hung a ponderous chain of onions. In short, the errand-boy wasbusy; and our heroes, even with their short experience of business life, saw that there was little hope of extracting information from him underpresent circumstances. 

So they let him pass, and waited for another. They had not to waitlong, for the passage appeared to be a regular highway for the juniormembers of the staff of the _Rocket_ Newspaper Company, Limited. Butthough several boys came, it was some time before one appeared whoseconvenience it suited to conduct our heroes to the presence of MrDurfy. Just, however, as their patience was getting exhausted, andReginald was making up his mind to shake the dust of the place from hisfeet, a boy appeared and offered to escort them to the composing-room. 

They followed him up several flights of a rickety staircase, and downsome labyrinthine passages to a large room where some forty or fifty menwere busy setting up type. At the far end of this room, at a smalltable, crowded with "proofs, " sat a red-faced individual whom the boypointed out as "Duffy. "

"Well, now, what do _you_ want?" asked he, as the brothers approached. 

"The manager said we were to ask for Mr Durfy, " said Reginald. 

"I wish to goodness he'd keep you down there; he knows I'm crowded outwith boys. He always serves me that way, and I'll tell him so one ofthese days. "

This last speech, though apparently addressed to the boys, was really asoliloquy on Mr Durfy's part; but for all that it failed to enchant hisaudience. They had not, in their most sanguine moments, expected much, but this was even rather less than they had counted on. 

Mr Durfy mused for some time, then, turning to Reginald, he said, --

"Do you know your letters?"

Here was a question to put to the captain of the fifth at Wilderham!

"I believe I do, " said Reginald, with a touch of scorn in his voicewhich was quite lost on the practical Mr Durfy. 

"What do you mean by believe? Do you, or do you not?"

"Of course I do. "

"Then why couldn't you say so at once? Take this bit of copy and set itup at that case there. And you, young fellow, take these proofs to thesub-editor's room, and say I've not had the last sheet of the copy ofthe railway accident yet, and I'm standing for it. Cut away. "

Horace went off. 

"After all, " thought he to himself, "what's the use of being particular?I suppose I'm what they call a `printer's devil'; nothing like startingmodestly! Here goes for my lords the sub-editors, and the last page ofthe railway accident. "

And he spent a festive ten-minutes hunting out the sub-editor's domains, and possessing himself of the missing copy. 

With Reginald, however, it fared otherwise. A fellow may be head of thefifth at a public school, and yet not know his letters in a printing-office, and after five or ten-minutes' hopeless endeavour to comprehendthe geography of a typecase, he was obliged to acknowledge himselfbeaten and apprise Mr Durfy of the fact. 

"I'm sorry I misunderstood you, " said he, putting the copy down on thetable. "I'm not used to printing. "

"No, " said Mr Durfy, scornfully, "I guessed not. You're too stuck-upfor us, I can tell you. Here, Barber. "

An unhealthy-looking young man answered to the name. 

"Take this chap here to the back case-room, and see he sweeps it out anddusts the cases. See if that'll suit your abilities, my dandy"; andwithout waiting to hear Reginald's explanations or remonstrances, MrDurfy walked off, leaving the unlucky boy in the hands of Mr Barber. 

"Now, then, stir your stumps, Mr Dandy, " said the latter. "It'll takeyou all your time to get that shop straight, I can tell you, so you'dbetter pull up your boots. Got a broom?"

"No, " muttered Reg, through his teeth, "I've not got a broom. "

"Go and get that one, then, out of the corner there. "

Reginald flushed crimson, and hesitated a moment. 

"Do you 'ear? Are you deaf? Get that one there. "

Reginald got it, and trailing it behind him dismally, followed his guideto the back case-room. It was a small room, which apparently had knownneither broom nor water for years. The floor was thick with dirt, andthe cases ranged in the racks against the walls were coated with dust. 

"There you are, " said Mr Barber. "Open the window, do you 'ear? anddon't let none of the dust get out into the composing-room, or there'llbe a row. Come and tell me when you've done the floor, and I'll showyou 'ow to do them cases. Rattle along, do you 'ear? or you won't getit done to-day;" and Mr Barber, who had had his day of sweeping out theshops, departed, slamming the door behind him. 

Things had come to a crisis with Reginald Cruden early in his businesscareer. 

He had _come_ into the City that morning prepared to face a good deal. He had not counted on much sympathy or consideration from his newemployers; he had even vaguely made up his mind he would have to roughit at first; but to be shut up in a dirty room with a broom in his handby a cad who could not even talk grammar was a humiliation on which hehad never once calculated. 

Tossing the broom unceremoniously into a corner, he opened the door andwalked out of the room. Barber was already out of sight, chucklinginwardly over the delicious task he had been privileged to set to hisdandy subordinate, and none of the men working near knew or cared whatthis pale, handsome new boy did either in or out of the back case-room. 

Reginald walked through them to the passage outside, not much caringwhere he went or whom he met. If he were to meet Mr Barber, or MrDurfy, or the manager himself, so much the better. As it happened, hemet Horace, looking comparatively cheerful, with some papers in hishand. 

"Hullo, Reg, " said he; "have they promoted you to a `printer's devil'too? Fancy what Bland would say if he saw us! Never mind, there's fourhours gone, and in about another six we shall be home with motheragain. "

"I shall be home before then, " said Reg. "I'm going now. I can't standit, Horace. "

Horace stared at his brother in consternation. 

"Oh, Reg, old man, you mustn't; really you mustn't. Do let's sticktogether, however miserable it is. It's sure to seem worse at first. "

"It's all very well for you, Horace, doing messenger work. You haven'tbeen set to sweep out a room. "

Horace whistled. 

"Whew! that _is_ a drop too much! But, " he added, taking his brother'sarm, "don't cut it yet, old man, for mother's sake, don't. I'll comeand help you do it if I can. Why couldn't they have given it me to do, and let you go the messages!"

Reginald said nothing, but let his brother lead him back slowly to thebig room presided over by Mr Durfy. 

"Where is it?" Horace inquired of him at the door. 

"That little room in the corner. "

"All right. I'll come if I possibly can. Do try it, old man, won'tyou?"

"I'll try it, " said Reginald, with something very like a groan as heopened the door and walked grimly back to the back case-room. 

Horace, full of fear and trembling on his brother's account, hurriedwith his copy to Mr Durfy, and waited impatiently till that grandeecondescended to relieve him of it. 

"Is there anything else?" he inquired, as he gave it up. 

"Anything else? Yes, plenty; but don't come bothering me now. "

Horace waited for no more elaborate statement of Mr Durfy's wishes, butthankfully withdrew, and made straight for Reginald. 

He found him half hidden, half choked by the dust of his own raising, ashe drew his broom in a spiritless way across the black dry floor. 

He paused in his occupation as Horace entered, and for a moment, as thetwo stood face to face coughing and sneezing, a sense of the ludicrousovercame them, and they finished up their duet with a laugh. 

"I say, " said Horace, as soon as he could get words, "I fancy a littlewater would be an improvement here. "

"Where are we to get it from?" said Reg. 

"I suppose there must be some about. Shall I go and see?"

"We might tip one of those fellows outside a sixpence to go and get ussome. "

"Hold hard, old man!" said Horace, laughing again. "We're not so flushof sixpences as all that. I guess if we want any water we shall have toget it ourselves. I'll be back directly. "

Poor Reg, spirited up for a while by his brother's courage, proceededmore gingerly with his sweeping, much amazed in the midst of his miseryto discover how many walks in life there are beyond the capacity even ofthe captain of the fifth of a public school. 

He was not, however, destined on the present occasion to perfect himselfin the one that was then engaging his attention. Horace had scarcelydisappeared in quest of water when the door opened, and no less apersonage than the manager himself entered the room. 

He was evidently prepared neither for the dust nor the duster, andstarted back for a moment, as though he were under the impression thatthe clouds filling the apartment were clouds of smoke, and Reginald wasanother Guy Fawkes caught in the act. He recovered himself shortly, however, and demanded sharply, --

"What are you doing here, making all this mess?"

"I'm trying to carry out Mr Durfy's instructions, " replied Reginald, leaning on his broom, and not at all displeased at the interruption. 

"Durfy's instructions? What do you mean, sir?"

"Mr Durfy's--"

"That will do. Here you, " said the manager, opening the door, andspeaking to the nearest workman, "tell Mr Durfy to step here. "

Mr Durfy appeared in a very brief space. 

"Durfy, " said the manager, wrathfully, "what do you mean by having thisroom in such a filthy mess? Aren't your instructions to have it sweptout once a week? When was it swept last?"

"Some little time ago. We've been so busy in our department, sir, that--"

"Yes, I know; you always say that. I'm sick of hearing it. Don't letme find this sort of thing again. Send some one at once to sweep itout; this lad doesn't know how to hold a broom. Take care it's done byfour o'clock, and ready for use. Pheugh! it's enough to choke one. "

And the manager went off in a rage, coughing. 

Satisfactory as this was, in a certain sense, for Reginald, it was not aflattering way of ending his difficulties, nor did the spirit in whichMr Durfy accepted his chief's reprimand at all tend to restore him tocheerfulness. 

"Bah, you miserable idiot, you! Give up that broom, and get out ofthis, or I'll chuck you out. "

"I don't think you will, " said Reginald, coolly dropping the broom andfacing his enemy. 

He was happier at that moment than he had been for a long time. Hecould imagine himself back at Wilderham, with the school bully shoutingat him, and his spirits rose within him accordingly. 

"What do you say? you hugger-mugger puppy you--you--"

Mr Durfy's adjectives frequently had the merit of being more forciblethan appropriate, and on the present occasion, what with the dust andhis own rage, the one he wanted stuck in his throat altogether. 

"I said I don't think you will, " repeated Reginald. 

Mr Durfy looked at his man and hesitated. Reginald stood five footnine, and his shoulders were square and broad, besides, he was as coolas a cucumber, and didn't even trouble to take his hands out of hispockets. All this Mr Durfy took in, and did not relish; but he mustnot cave in too precipitately, so he replied, with a sneer, --

"Think! A lot you know about thinking! Can't even hold a broom. Clearout of here, I tell you, double quick; do you hear?"

Reginald's spirits fell. It was clear from Mr Durfy's tone he was notgoing to attempt to "chuck him out, " and nothing therefore could begained by remaining. 

He turned scornfully on his heel, knowing that he had made one enemy, atany rate, during his short connection with his new business. 

And if he had known all, he could have counted two; for Mr Durfy, finding himself in a mood to wreak his wrath on some one, summoned theill-favoured Barber to sweep out the back case-room, and gave his ordersso viciously that Barber felt distinctly aggrieved, and jumping to theconclusion that Reginald had somehow contrived to turn the tables onhim, he registered a secret vow, there and then, that he would on thefirst opportunity, and on all subsequent opportunities, be square withthat luckless youth. 

Caring very little about who hated him or who liked him, Reginaldwandered forth, to intercept the faithful Horace with the nowunnecessary water; and the two boys, finding very little to occupy themduring the rest of the day, remained in comparative seclusion until theseven o'clock bell rang, when they walked home, possibly wiser, andcertainly sadder, for their first day with the _Rocket_ NewspaperCompany, Limited. 

CHAPTER FIVE. 

THE CRUDENS AT HOME. 

If anything could have made up to the two boys for the hardships andmiseries of the day, it was the sight of their mother's bright face asshe awaited them that evening at the door of Number 6, Dull Street. Ifthe day had been a sad and lonely one for Mrs Cruden, she was not thewoman to betray the secret to her sons; and, indeed, the happiness ofseeing them back was enough to drive away all other care for the timebeing. 

Shabby as the lodgings were, and lacking in all the comforts andluxuries of former days, the little family felt that evening, as theygathered round the tea-table and unburdened their hearts to one another, more of the true meaning of the word "home" than they had ever donebefore. 

"Now, dear boys, " said Mrs Cruden, when the meal was over, and theydrew their chairs to the open window, "I'm longing to hear your day'sadventures. How did you get on? Was it as bad as you expected?"

"It wasn't particularly jolly, " said Reginald, shrugging hisshoulders--"nothing like Wilderham, was it, Horrors?"

"Well, it was a different sort of fun, certainly, " said Horace. "Yousee, mother, our education has been rather neglected in some things, sowe didn't get on as well as we might have done. "

"Do you mean in the literary work?" said Mrs Cruden. "I'm quite sureyou'll get into it with a little practice. "

"But it's not the literary work, unluckily, " said Reginald. 

"Ah! you mean clerk's work. You aren't as quick at figures, perhaps, asyou might be?"

"That's not exactly it, " said Horace. "The fact is, mother, we'reneither in the literary not the clerical department. I'm a `printer'sdevil'!"

"Oh, Horace! what _do_ you mean?" said the horrified mother. 

"Oh, I'm most innocently employed. I run messages; I fetch and carryfor a gentleman called Durfy. He gives me some parliamentary news tocarry to one place, and some police news to carry to another place--and, by-the-way, they read very much alike--and when I'm not runningbackwards or forwards I have to sit on a stool and watch him, and beready to jump up and wag my tail the moment he whistles. It's a fact, mother! Think of getting eighteen shillings a week for that! It's afraud!"

Mrs Cruden could hardly tell whether to laugh or cry. 

"My poor boy!" she murmured; then, turning to Reginald, she said, "Andwhat do you do, Reg?"

"Oh, I sweep rooms, " said Reg, solemnly; "but they've got such ashocking bad broom there that I can't make it act. If you could give mea new broom-head, mother, and put me up to a dodge or two about workingout corners, I might rise in my profession!"

There was a tell-tale quaver in the speaker's voice which made thisjaunty speech a very sad one to the mother's ears. It was all she coulddo to conceal her misery, and when Horace came to the rescue with a racyaccount of the day's proceedings, told in his liveliest manner, she wasglad to turn her head and hide from her boys the trouble in her face. 

However, she soon recovered herself, and by the time Horace's story wasdone she was ready to join her smiles with those which the history haddrawn even from Reginald's serious countenance. 

"After all, " said she, presently, "we must be thankful for what we have. Some one was saying the other day there never was a time when so manyyoung fellows were out of work and thankful to get anything to do. Andit's very likely too, Reg, that just now, when they seem rather inconfusion at the office, they really haven't time to see about what yourregular work is to be. Wait a little, and they're sure to find out yourvalue. "

"They seem to have done that already as far as sweeping is concerned. The manager said I didn't know how to hold a broom. I was quiteoffended, " said Reginald. 

"You are a dear brave pair of boys!" said the mother, warmly; "and I amprouder of you in your humble work than if you were kings!"

"Hullo, " said Horace, "there's some one coming up our stairs!"

Sure enough there was, and more than one person, as it happened. Therewas a knock at the door, followed straightway by the entrance of anelderly lady, accompanied by a young lady and a young gentleman, whosailed into the room, much to the amazement and consternation of itsoccupants. 

"Mrs Cruden, I believe?" said the elderly lady, in her politest tones. 

"Yes, " replied the owner of that name. 

"Let me hintroduce myself--Mrs Captain Shuckleford, my son anddaughter--neighbours of yours, Mrs Cruden, and wishing to be friendly. We're sorry to hear of your trouble; very trying it is. My 'usband, Mrs Cruden, has gone too. "

"Pray take a seat, " said Mrs Cruden. "Reg, will you put chairs?"

Reg obeyed, with a groan. 

"These are your boys, are they?" said the visitor, eyeing the youths. "Will you come and shake 'ands with me, Reggie? What a dear, good-looking boy he is, Mrs Cruden! And 'ow do you do, too, my man?" saidshe, addressing Horace. "Pretty well? And what do they call you?"

"My name is Horace, " said "my man, " blushing very decidedly, andretreating precipitately to a far corner of the room. 

"Ah, dear me! And my 'usband's name, Mrs Cruden, was 'Oward. I never'ear the name without affliction. "

This was very awkward, for as the unfortunate widow could not fail tohear her own voice, it was necessary for consistency's sake that sheshould show some emotion, which she proceeded to do, when her daughterhurriedly interposed in an audible whisper, "Ma, don't make a goose ofyourself! Behave yourself, do!"

"So I am be'aving myself, Jemima, " replied the outraged parent, "and Idon't need lessons from you. "

"It's very kind of you to call in, " said Mrs Cruden, feeling it time tosay something; "do you live near here?"

"We live next door, at number four, " said Miss Jemima; "put thathandkerchief away, ma. "

"What next, I wonder! if my 'andkerchief's not my hown, I'd like to knowwhat is? Yes, Mrs Cruden. We heard you were coming, and we wish totreat you with consideration, knowing your circumstances. It's all onegentlefolk can do to another. Yes, and I 'ope the boys will be goodfriends. Sam, talk to the boys. "

Sam needed no such maternal encouragement, as it happened, and hadalready swaggered up to Horace with a familiar air. 

"Jolly weather, ain't it?"

"Yes, " said Horace, looking round wildly for any avenue of escape, butfinding none. 

"Pretty hot in your shop, ain't it?" said the lawyer's clerk. 

"Yes, " again said Horace, with a peculiar tingling sensation in his toeswhich his visitor little dreamed of. 

Horace was not naturally a short-tempered youth, but there was somethingin the tone of this self-satisfied lawyer's clerk which raised hisdander. 

"Not much of a berth, is it?" pursued the catechist. 

"No, " said Horace. 

"Not a very chirrupy screw, so I'm told--eh?"

This was rather too much. Either Horace must escape by flight, whichwould be ignominious, or he must knock his visitor down, which would berude, or he must grin and bear it. The middle course was what he mostinclined to, but failing that, he decided on the latter. 

So he shook his head and waited patiently for the next question. 

"What do you do, eh? dirty work, ain't it?"

"Yes, isn't yours?" said Horace, in a tone that rather surprised thelimb of the law. 

"Mine? No. What makes you ask that?" he inquired. 

"Only because I thought I'd like to know, " said Horace artlessly. 

Mr Shuckleford looked perplexed. He didn't understand exactly whatHorace meant, and yet, whatever it was, it put him off the thread of hisdiscourse for a time. So he changed the subject. 

"I once thought of going into business myself, " he said; "but theyseemed to think I'd do better at the law. Same time, don't think I'm anailer on business chaps. I know one or two very respectable chaps inbusiness. "

"Do you?" replied Horace, with a touch of satire in his voice which wasquite lost on the complacent Sam. 

"Yes. Why, in our club--do you know our club?"

"No, " said Horace. 

"Oh--I must take you one evening--yes, in our club we've a good manybusiness chaps--well-behaved chaps, too. "

Horace hardly looked as overwhelmed by this announcement as his visitorexpected. 

"Would you like to join?"

"No, thank you. "

"Eh? you're afraid of being black-balled, I suppose? No fear, I canwork it with them. I can walk round any of them, I let you know; theywouldn't do it, especially when they knew I'd a fancy for you, my boy. "

If Horace was grateful for this expression of favour, he managed toconceal his feelings wonderfully well. At the same time he had senseenough to see that, vulgar and conceited as Samuel Shuckleford was, hemeant to be friendly, and inwardly gave him credit accordingly. 

He did his best to be civil, and to listen to all the bumptious talk ofhis visitor patiently, and Sam rattled away greatly to his ownsatisfaction, fully believing he was impressing his hearer with a senseof his importance, and cheering his heart by the promise of his favoursand protection. 

With the unlucky Reginald, meanwhile, it fared far less comfortably. 

"Jemima, my dear, " said Mrs Shuckleford, who in all her domesticconfidences to Mrs Cruden kept a sharp eye on her family--"Jemima, mydear, I think Reggie would like to show you his album!"

An electric shock could not have startled and confused our hero more. It was bad enough to hear himself called "Reggie, " but that was nothingto the assumption that he was pining to make himself agreeable to MissJemima--he to whom any lady except his mother was a cause oftrepidation, and to whom a female like Miss Jemima was nothing short ofan ogress!

"I've not got an album, " he gasped, with an appealing look towards hismother. 

But before Mrs Cruden could interpose to rescue him, the ladylike MissJemima, who had already regarded the good-looking shy youth withapproval, entered the lists on her own account, and moving her chair atrifle in his direction, said, in a confidential whisper, --

"Ma thinks we're not a very sociable couple, that's what it is. "

A couple! He and Jemima a couple! Reginald was ready to faint, andlooked towards the open window as if he meditated a headlong escape thatway. As to any other way of escape, that was impossible, for he wasfairly cornered between the enemy and the wall, and unless he were tocut his way through the one or the other, he must sit where he was. 

"I hope you don't mind talking to me, Mr Reggie, " continued the younglady, when Reginald gave no symptom of having heard the lastobservation. "We shall have to be friends, you know, now we areneighbours. So you haven't got an album?"

This abrupt question drove poor Reginald still further into the corner. What business was it of hers whether he had got an album or not? Whatright had she to pester him with questions like that in his own house?In fact, what right had she and her mother and her brother to come thereat all? Those were the thoughts that passed through his mind, and asthey did so indignation got the better of good manners and everythingelse. 

"Find out, " he said. 

He could have bitten his tongue off the moment he had spoken. ForReginald was a gentleman, and the sound of these rude words in his ownvoice startled him into a sense of shame and confusion tenfold worsethan any Miss Shuckleford had succeeded in producing. 

"I beg your pardon, " he gasped hurriedly. "I--I didn't mean to berude. "

Now was the hour of Miss Jemima's triumph. She had the unhappy youth ather mercy, and she took full advantage of her power. She forgave him, and made him sit and listen to her and answer her questions for as longas she chose; and if ever he showed signs of mutiny, the slightest hint, such as "You'll be telling me to mind my own business again, " was enoughto reduce him to instant subjection. 

It was a bad quarter of an hour for Reginald, and the climax arrivedwhen presently Mrs Shuckleford looked towards them and said across theroom, --

"Now I wonder what you two young people are talking about in that snugcorner. Oh, never mind, if it's secrets! Nice it is, Mrs Cruden, tosee young people such good friends so soon. We must be going now, children, " she added. "We shall soon see our friends in our own 'ouse, I 'ope. "

A tender leave-taking ensued. For a while, as the retreating footstepsof the visitors gradually died away on the stairs, the little familystood motionless, as though the slightest sound might recall them. Butwhen at last the street-door slammed below, Reginald flung himself intoa chair and groaned. 

"Mother, we can't stay here. We must leave to-morrow!"

Horace could not help laughing. 

"Why, Reg, " he said, "you seemed to be enjoying yourself no end. "

"Shut up, Horace, it's nothing to laugh about. "

"My dear boy, " said Mrs Cruden, "you think far more about it than youneed. After all, they seem kindly disposed persons, and I don't thinkwe should be unfriendly. "

"That's all very well, " said Reg, "if there was no Jemima in thequestion. "

"I should say it's all very well, " said Horace, "if there was no Sam inthe question; though I dare say he means to be friendly. But didn't youand Jemima hit it, then, Reg? I quite thought you did. "

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" repeated Reg, this time half angrily. "I don't see, mother, " he added, "however poor we are, we are called onto associate with a lot like that. "

"They have not polished manners, certainly, " said Mrs Cruden; "but I dothink they are good-natured, and that's a great thing. "

"I should think so, " said Horace. "What do you think? Samuel wants topropose me for his club, which seems to be a very select affair. "

"All I know is, " said Reginald, "nothing will induce me to go into theirhouse. It may be rude, but I'm certain I'd be still more rude if I didgo. "

"Well, " said Horace, "I vote we take a walk, as it's a fine evening. Ifeel a trifle warm after it all. What do you say?"

They said Yes, and in the empty streets that evening the mother and hertwo sons walked happy in one another's company, and trying each in hisor her own way to gain courage for the days of trial that were tofollow. 

The brothers had a short consultation that night as they went to bed, _not_ on the subject of their next door neighbours. 

"Horrors, " said Reg, "what's to be done about the _Rocket_? I can'tstop there. "

"It's awful, " said Horace; "but what else can we do? If we cut it, there's mother left a beggar. "

"Couldn't we get into something else?"

"What? Who'd take us? There are thousands of fellows wanting work asit is. "

"But surely we're better than most of them. We're gentlemen and welleducated. "

"So much the worse, it seems, " said Horace. "What good is it to us whenwe're put to sweep rooms and carry messages?"

"Do you mean to say you intend to stick to that sort of thing all yourlife?" asked Reg. 

"Till I can find something better, " said Horace. "After all, old man, it's honest work, and not very fagging, and it's eighteen shillings aweek. "

"Anyhow, I think we might let Richmond know what a nice berth he's letus in for. Why, his office-boy's better off. "

"Yes, and if we knew as much about book-keeping and agreement stamps andcopying presses as his office-boy does, we might be as well off. What'sthe good of knowing how many ships fought at Salamis, when we don't evenknow how many ounces you can send by post for twopence? At least, Idon't. Good-night, old man. "

And Horace, really scarcely less miserable at heart than his brother, buried his nose in the Dull Street pillow and tried to go to sleep. 

CHAPTER SIX. 

REGINALD'S PROSPECTS DEVELOP. 

It was in anything but exuberant spirits that the two Crudens presentedthemselves on the following morning at the workman's entrance of the_Rocket_ Newspaper Company, Limited. The bell was beginning to sound asthey did so, and their enemy the timekeeper looked as though he wouldfain discover a pretext for pouncing on them and giving them a specimenof his importance. But even his ingenuity failed in this respect, andas Horace passed him with a good-humoured nod, he had, much against hiswill, to nod back, and forego his amiable intentions. 

The brothers naturally turned their steps to the room presided over byMr Durfy. That magnate had not yet arrived, much to their relief, andthey consoled themselves in his absence by standing at the tablewatching their fellow-workmen as they crowded in and proceeded with moreor less alacrity to settle down to their day's work. 

Among those who displayed no unseemly haste in applying themselves totheir tasks was Barber, who, with the dust of the back case-room stillin his mind, and equally on his countenance, considered the presentopportunity of squaring up accounts with Reginald too good to beneglected. For reasons best known to himself, Mr Barber determinedthat his victim's flagellation should be moral rather than physical. Hewould have liked to punch Reginald's head, or, better still, to haveknocked Reginald's and Horace's heads together. But he saw reasons fordenying himself that pleasure, and fell back on the more etherealweapons of his own wit. 

"Hullo, puddin' 'ead, " he began, "'ow's your pa and your ma to-day?Find the Old Bailey a 'ealthy place, don't they?"

Reginald favoured the speaker by way of answer with a stare of mingledscorn and wrath, which greatly elevated that gentleman's spirits. 

"'Ow long is it they've got? Seven years, ain't it? My eye, they won'tknow you when they come out, you'll be so growed. "

The wrath slowly faded from Reginald's face, as the speaker proceeded, leaving only the scorn to testify to the interest he took in thisintellectual display. 

Horace, delighted to see there was no prospect of a "flare-up, " smiled, and began almost to enjoy himself. 

"I say, " continued Barber, just a little disappointed to find that hisexquisite humour was not as electrical in its effect as it would havebeen on any one less dense than the Crudens, "'ow is it you ain't got aclean collar on to-day, and no scent on your 'andkerchers--eh?"

This was getting feeble. Even Mr Barber felt it, for he continued, ina more lively tone, --

"Glad we ain't got many of your sickening sort 'ere; snivelling school-boy brats, that's what you are, tired of pickin' pockets, and thinkyou're goin' to show us your manners. Yah! if you wasn't such a dirtyugly pair of puppy dogs I'd stick you under the pump--so I would. "

Reginald yawned, and walked off to watch a compositor picking up typeout of a case. Horace, on the other hand, appeared to be deeplyinterested in Mr Barber's eloquent observations, and inquired quiteartlessly, but with a twinkle in his eye, --"Is the pump near here? Iwas looking for it everywhere yesterday. "

It was Mr Barber's turn to stare. He had not expected this, and he didnot like it, especially when one or two of the men and boys near, whohad failed to be convulsed by his wit, laughed at Horace's question. 

After all, moral flagellation does not always answer, and when one ofthe victims yawns and the other asks a matter-of-fact questions it isdisconcerting even to an accomplished operator. However, Barbergallantly determined on one more effort. 

"Ugh--trying to be funny, are you, Mr Snubnose? Best try and be honestif you can, you and your mealy-mug brother. It'll be 'ard work, I know, to keep your 'ands in your own pockets, but you'd best do it, do you'ear--pair of psalm-singin' twopenny-ha'penny puppy dogs!"

This picturesque peroration certainly deserved some recognition, andmight possibly have received it, had not Mr Durfy's entrance at thatparticular moment sent the idlers back suddenly to their cases. 

Reginald, either heedless of or unconcerned at the new arrival, remainedlistlessly watching the operations of the compositor near him, an act ofaudacity which highly exasperated the overseer, and furnished the key-note for the day's entertainment. 

For Mr Durfy, to use an expressive term, had "got out of bed the wrongside" this morning. For the matter of that, after the blowing-up aboutthe back case-room, he had got into it the wrong side last night, sothat he was doubly perturbed in spirit, and a short conversation he hadjust had with the manager below had not tended to compose him. 

"Durfy, " said that brusque official, as the overseer passed his opendoor, "come in. What about those two lads I sent up to you yesterday?Are they any good?"

"Not a bit, " growled Mr Durfy; "fools both of them. "

"Which is the bigger fool?"

"The old one. "

"Then keep him for yourself--put him to composing, and send the otherone down here. Send him at once, Durfy, do you hear?"

With this considerately worded injunction in his ears it is hardly to bewondered at that Mr Durfy was not all smiles as he entered the domainwhich owned his sway. 

His eye naturally lit on Reginald as the most suitable object on whichto relieve his feelings. 

"Now, then, there, " he called out. "What do you mean by interferingwith the men in their work?"

"I'm not interfering with anybody, " said Reginald, looking up withglowing cheeks, "I'm watching this man. "

"Come out of it, do you hear me? Why don't you go about your own work?"

"I've been waiting here ten-minutes for you. "

"Look here, " said Mr Durfy, his tones getting lower as his passionrose; "if you think we're going to keep you here to give us any of yourimpudence you're mistaken; so I can tell you. It's bad enough to have abig fool put into the place for charity, without any of your nonsense. If I had my way I'd give you your beggarly eighteen shillings a week tokeep you away. Go to your work. "

Reginald's eyes blazed out for a moment on the speaker in a way whichmade Horace, who heard and saw all, tremble. But he overcame himselfwith a mighty effort, and said, --

"Where?"

Mr Durfy glanced round the room. 

"Young Gedge!" he called out. 

A boy answered the summons. 

"Clear that rack between you and Barber, and put up a pair of cases forthis fool here, and look after him. Off you go! and off _you_ go, "added he, rounding on Reginald, "and if we don't make it hot for youamong us I'm precious mistaken. "

It was a proud moment certainly for the cock of the fifth at Wilderhamto find himself following meekly at the heels of a youngster like Gedge, who had been commissioned to put him to work and look after him. ButReginald was too sick at heart and disgusted to care what became ofhimself, as long as Mr Durfy's odious voice ceased to torment his ears. The only thing he did care about was what was to become of Horace. Washe to be put in charge of some one too, or was he to remain a printer'sdevil?

Mr Durfy soon answered that question. 

"What are you standing there for?" demanded he, turning round on theyounger brother as soon as he had disposed of the elder. "Go down tothe manager's room at once; you're not wanted here. "

So they were to be separated! There was only time to exchange oneglance of mutual commiseration and then Horace slowly left the room withsad forebodings, more on his brother's account than his own, and feelingthat as far as helping one another was concerned they might as well bedoomed to serve their time at opposite ends of London. 

Gedge, under whose imposing auspices Reginald was to begin histypographical career, was a diminutive youth who, to all outwardappearances, was somewhere about the tender age of fourteen, instead of, as was really the case, being almost as old as Reginald himself. He wasfacetiously styled "Magog" by his shopmates, in allusion to his smallstature, which required the assistance of a good-sized box under hisfeet to enable him to reach his "upper case. " His face was not anunpleasant one, and his voice, which still retained its boyish treble, was an agreeable contrast to that of most of the "gentlemen of the case"in Mr Durfy's department. 

For all that, Reginald considered himself much outraged by being put incharge of this chit of a child, and glowered down on him much as amastiff might glower on a terrier who presumed to do the honour of hisback yard for his benefit. 

However, the terrier in this case was not at all disheartened by hisreception, and said cheerily as he began to clear the frame, --

"You don't seem to fancy it, I say. I don't wonder. Never mind, Ishan't lick you unless you make me. "

"Thanks, " said Reginald, drily, but scarcely able to conceal a smile atthis magnanimous declaration. 

"Magog" worked busily away, putting away cases in the rack, dusting theframe down with his apron, and whistling softly to himself. 

"Thanks for helping me, " said he, after a time, as Reginald still stoodby doing nothing. "I could never have done it all by myself. "

Reginald blushed a little at this broad hint, and proceeded to lift downa case. But he nearly upset it in doing so, greatly to his companion'shorror. 

"You'd better rest, " he said, "you'll be fagged out. Here, let me doit. There you are. Now we're ready to start you. I've a good mind togo and get old Tacker to ring up the big bell and let them know you'rejust going to begin. "

Reginald could hardly be offended at this good-natured banter, and, asGedge was after all a decent-looking boy, and aspirated his "h's, " anddid not smell of onions, he began to think that if he were doomed todrudge in this place he might have been saddled with a more offensivecompanion. 

"It's a pity to put Tacker to the trouble, young 'un, " said he; "he'llprobably ring when I'm going to leave off, and that'll do as well. "

"That's not bad for you, " said Gedge, approvingly; "not half bad. Go onlike that, and you'll make a joke in about a fortnight. "

"Look here, " said Reginald, smiling at last. "I shall either have topunch your head or begin work. You'd better decide which you'd likebest. "

"Well, as Durfy is looking this way, " said Gedge, "I suppose you'dbetter begin work. Stick that pair of empty cases up there--the onewith the big holes below and the other one above. You needn't stickthem upside down, though, unless you particularly want to; they lookquite as well the right way. Now, then, you'd better watch me fillthem, and see what boxes the sorts go in. No larks, now. Here goes forthe `m's. '"

So saying, Mr "Magog" proceeded to fill up one box with types of theletter "m, " and another box some distance off with "a's, " and anotherwith "b's, " and so on, till presently the lower of the two cases wasnearly full. Reginald watched him with something like admiration, inwardly wondering if he would ever be able to find his way about thislabyrinth of boxes, and strongly of opinion that only muffs likeprinters would think of arranging the alphabet in such an absurdlyhaphazard manner. The lower case being full up, Gedge meekly suggestedthat as he was yet several feet from his full size, they might as welllift the upper case down while it was being filled. Which done, thesame process was repeated, only with more apparent regularity, and thecase having been finally tilted up on the frame above the lower case, the operator turned round with a pleased expression, and said, --

"What do you think of that?"

"Why, I think it's very ridiculous not to put the `capital J' next tothe `capital I, '" said Reginald. 

Gedge laughed. 

"Go and tell Durfy that; he'd like to hear it. "

Reginald, however, denied himself the pleasure of entertaining Mr Durfyon this occasion, and occupied himself with picking up the types andinspecting them, and trying to learn the geography of his cases. 

"Now, " said "Magog, " mounting his box, and taking his composing-stick inhis hand, "keep your eye on me, young fellow, and you'll know all aboutit. "

And he proceeded to "set-up" a paragraph for the newspaper from amanuscript in front of him at a speed which bewildered Reginald andbaffled any attempt on his part to follow the movements of theoperator's hand among the boxes. He watched for several minutes insilence until Gedge, considering he had exhibited his agilitysufficiently, halted in his work, and with a passing shade across hisface turned to his companion and said, --

"I say, isn't this a beastly place?"

There was something in his voice and manner which struck Reginald. Itwas unlike a common workman, and still more unlike a boy of Gedge's sizeand age. 

"It is beastly, " he said. 

"I'm awfully sorry for you, you know, " continued Gedge, in a half-whisper, and going on with his work at the same time, "because I guessit's not what you're used to. "

"I'm not used to it, " said Reginald. 

"Nor was I when I came. My old screw of an uncle took it into his headto apprentice me here because he'd been an apprentice once, and didn'tsee why I should start higher up the ladder than he did. Are you anapprentice?"

"No, not that I know of, " said Reginald, not knowing exactly what hewas. 

"Lucky beggar! I'm booked here for nobody knows how much longer. I'dhave cut it long ago if I could. I say, what's your name?"

"Cruden. "

"Well, Cruden, I'm precious glad you've turned up. It'll make all thedifference to me. I was getting as big a cad as any of those fellowsthere, for you're bound to be sociable. But you're a nicer sort, andit's a good job for me, I can tell you. "

Apart from the flattery of these words, there was a touch of earnestnessin the boy's voice which struck a sympathetic chord in Reginald'snature, and drew him mysteriously to this new hour-old acquaintance. Hetold him of his own hard fortunes, and by what means he had come down tohis present position. Gedge listened to it all eagerly. 

"Were you really captain of the fifth at your school?" said he, almostreverentially. "I say! what an awful drop this must be! You must feelas if you'd sooner be dead. "

"I do sometimes, " said Reginald. 

"I know I would, " replied Gedge, solemnly, "if I was you. Was thatother fellow your brother, then?"

"Yes. "

Gedge mused a bit, and then laughed quietly. 

"How beautifully you two shut up Barber between you just now, " he said;"it's the first snub he's had since I've been here, and all the fellowsswear by him. I say, Cruden, it's a merciful thing for me you've come. I was bound to go to the dogs if I'd gone on as I was much longer. "

Reginald brightened. It pleased him just now to think any one was gladto see him, and the spontaneous way in which this boy had come under hiswing won him over completely. 

"We must manage to stick together, " he said. "Horace, you know, isworking in another part of the office. It's awfully hard lines, for weset our minds on being together. But it can't be helped; and I'm glad, any way, you're here, young 'un. "

The young 'un beamed gratefully by way of response. 

The paragraph by this time was nearly set-up, and the conversation wasinterrupted by the critical operation of lifting the "matter" from thestick and transferring it to a "galley, " a feat which the experienced"Magog" accomplished very deftly, and greatly to the amazement of hiscompanion. Just as it was over, and Reginald was laughingly hoping hewould not soon be expected to arrive at such a pitch of dexterity, MrDurfy walked up. 

"So that's what you call doing your work, is it? playing the fool, andgetting in another man's way. Is that all you've done?"

Reginald glared at him, and answered, --

"I'm not playing the fool. "

"Hold your tongue and don't answer me, you miserable puppy! Let me seewhat you have done. "

"I've been learning the boxes in the case, " said Reginald. 

Mr Durfy sneered. 

"You have, have you? That's what you've been doing the last hour, Isuppose. Since you've been so industrious, pick me out a lower-case`x, ' do you hear?"

Reginald made a vague dive at one of the boxes, but not the right one, for he produced a `z. '

"Ah, I thought so, " said Mr Durfy, with a sneer that made Reginald longto cram the type into his mouth. "Now let's try a capital `J. '"

As it happened, Reginald knew where the capital "J" was, but he made noattempt to reach it, and answered, --

"If you want a capital `J, ' Mr Durfy, you can help yourself. "

"Magog" nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard this audacious reply, and scarcely ventured to look round to notice the effect of it on MrDurfy. The effect was on the whole not bad. For a moment the overseerwas dumbfounded and could not speak. But a glance at the resolute paleboy in front of him checked him in his impulse to use some other retortbut the tongue. As soon as words came he snarled, --

"Ho! is it that you mean, my beauty? All right, we'll see who's masterhere; and if I am, I'm sorry for you. "

And he turned on his heel and went. 

"You've done it now, " said "Magog, " in an agitated whisper--"done itclean. "

"Done what?" asked Reginald. 

"Done it with Durfy. He will make it hot for you, and no mistake. Never mind, if the worst comes to the worst you can cut. But hold on aslong as you can. He'll make you go some time or another. "

"He won't make me go till I choose, " replied Reginald. "I'll stick hereto disappoint him, if I do nothing else. "

The reader may have made up his mind already that Reginald was a fool. I'm afraid he was. But do not judge him harshly yet, for his troublesare only beginning. 

CHAPTER SEVEN. 

AN EXCITING END TO A DULL DAY. 

Horace meanwhile had wended his way with some trepidation and curiosityto the manager's sanctum. He felt uncomfortable in being separated fromReginald at all, especially when the latter was left single-handed insuch an uncongenial atmosphere as that breathed by Mr Durfy and Barber. He could only hope for the best, and, meanwhile, what fate was in storefor himself?

He knocked at the manager's door doubtfully and obeyed the summons toenter. 

Brusque man as the manager was, there was nothing disagreeable about hisface as he looked up and said, "Oh--you're the youngster Mr Richmondput in here?"

"Yes, sir, my brother and I are. "

"Yes, and I hear you're both fools. Is that the case?"

"Reginald isn't, whatever I am, " said Horace, boldly. 

"Isn't he? I'm told he's the bigger fool of the two. Never mind that, though--"

"I assure you, " began Horace, but the manager stopped him. 

"Yes, yes. I know all about that. Now, listen to me. I dare sayyou're both well-meaning boys, and Mr Richmond is interested in you. So I've promised to make room for you here, though it's not convenient, and the wages you are to get are out of all proportion to your value--sofar. "

Horace was glad at least that the manager dropped in those last twowords. 

"If your brother is clever and picks up his work soon and doesn't givehimself airs he'll get on faster than you. I can't put you at case, butthey want a lad in the sub-editor's room. Do you know where that is?"

"Yes, sir, " said Horace, "I took some proofs there yesterday. But, sir--"

"Well, what?" said the manager, sharply. 

"Is there no possibility of Reginald and me being together?" falteredthe boy. 

"Yes--outside if you're discontented, " said the manager. 

It was evidently no use, and Horace walked dismally to the door. 

The manager looked after him. 

"Take my advice, " said he, rather more kindly than he had hithertospoken; "make the best of what you've got, young fellow, and it'll bebetter still in time. Shut the door after you. "

The sub-editor's room--or rooms, for there was an inner and an outersanctum--was in a remote dark corner of the building, so dark that gaswas generally burning in it all day long, giving its occupants generallythe washed-out pallid appearance of men who do not know when day ends ornight begins. The chief sub-editor was a young, bald-headed, spectacledman of meek appearance, who received Horace in a resigned way, andreferred him to the clerks in the outer room, who would show him how hecould make himself useful. 

Feeling that, so far as he was concerned, he had fallen on his feet, andsecretly wishing poor Reginald was in his shoes, Horace obeyed andretired to the outer room. 

The occupants of that apartment were two young gentlemen of fromeighteen to twenty years of age, who, it was evident at a glance, werenot brothers. One was short and fair and chubby, the other was lank andlean and cadaverous; one was sorrowful and lugubrious in countenance;the other seemed to be spending his time in trying hard not to smile, and not succeeding. The only thing they did appear to share in commonwas hard work, and in this they were so fully engrossed that Horace hadto stand a full minute at the table before they had leisure to look upand notice him. 

"The gentleman in there, " said Horace, addressing the lugubrious youthas being the more imposing of the two, "said if I came to you you couldset me to work. "

The sad one gave a sort of groan and said, --

"Ah, he was right there. It _is_ work. "

"I say, " said the other youth, looking up, "don't frighten the kid, Booms; you'll make him run away. "

"I wish _I_ could run away, " said Booms, in an audible soliloquy. 

"So you can if you like, you old crocodile. I say, young 'un, have yougot a chair?"

Horace had to confess he had not a chair about him. 

"That's a go; we've only two here. We shall have to take turns on them. Booms will stand first, won't you, Booms?"

"Oh, of course, " said Booms, rising and pushing his chair towardsHorace. 

"Thanks, " said Horace, "but I'd sooner stand, really. "

"No, no, " said Booms, resignedly; "I'm to stand, Waterford says so. "

"Sit down, young 'un, " said Waterford, "and don't mind him. He won'tsay so, but he's awfully glad to stand up for a bit and stretch hislegs. Now, do you see this lot of morning papers--you'll see a lot ofparagraphs marked at the side with a blue pencil. You've got to cutthem out. Mind you don't miss any. Sure you understand?"

Horace expressed himself equal to this enormous task, and set to workbusily with his scissors. 

If he had had no one but himself to consider he would have feltcomparatively happy. He found himself in a department of work which heliked, and which, though at first not very exciting, promised some dayto become interesting. His chief was a gentleman not likely tointerfere with him as long as he did his work steadily, and hiscompanions were not only friendly but entertaining. If only Reginaldcould have a seat at this table too, Horace felt he could face thefuture cheerily. How, he wondered, was the poor fellow getting on thatmoment in his distant uncongenial work?

"You're not obliged to read all the paragraphs, you know, " saidWaterford, as Horace's hand slackened amid these musings. "It's a closeshave to get done as it is, and he's marked a frightful lot thismorning. "

He was right. All the cuttings had to be taken out and pasted on sheetsbefore twelve o'clock, and it took the three of them, hard at work withscissors and paste, to get the task accomplished. They talked verylittle, and joked still less; but when it was all done, like threehonest men, they felt pleased with themselves, and decidedly amiabletowards one another. 

"Now Booms is going out for the grub, aren't you, Booms? He'll get somefor you too, young 'un, if you like. "

"No, thanks; I'd be very glad, but I promised to have dinner with mybrother--he's a compositor here. "

"Lucky man!" groaned Booms. "Think of having nothing to do but pick uptypes instead of slaving like this every day!"

"See the sausages are hot this time, won't you, Booms? And look alive, there's a dear fellow. "

Booms retired sadly. 

"Good-natured chap, Booms, " said Waterford; "rather a risk of imposingon him if one isn't careful. He's an awfully decent fellow, but it's asad pity he's such a masher. "

"A what?" asked Horace. 

"A masher. He mayn't look it, but he goes it rather strong in that lineafter hours. He doesn't mean it, poor soul; but he's mixed up with someof our reporters, and tries to go the pace with them. I don't care forthat sort of thing myself, but if you do, he's just your man. Youwouldn't think it to look at him, would you?"

"Certainly not, " replied Horace, much impressed by this confidence andthe revelation it afforded. 

As Booms re-entered shortly afterwards, looking very gloomy, burdenedwith two plates, two mugs, and a sheaf of knives and forks under hisarm, he certainly did not give one the impression of a very rakishcharacter, and Horace could scarcely refrain from smiling as he tried topicture him in his after-hours character. 

He left the couple to their sausages, and went out, in the vain hope offinding Reginald somewhere. But there was no sign of workmen anywhere, and, to his disgust, he ascertained from a passing boy that thecompositors' dinner-hour did not begin till he was due back at his work. Everything seemed to conspire to sever the two brothers, and Horacedejectedly took a solitary and frugal repast. He determined, at allhazards, to wait a minute after the bell summoning him back to work hadceased pealing, and was rewarded by a hasty glimpse of his brother, andthe exchange of a few hurried sentences. It was better than nothing, and he rushed back to his room just in time to save his reputation forpunctuality. 

The afternoon passed scarcely less busily than the morning. They sat--and Booms had contrived to raise a third chair somewhere--with a pile ofwork in front of them which at first seemed hopeless to expect toovertake. 

There were effusions to "decline with thanks, " and others to enter in abook and send up to the composing-room; there were some letters to writeand others to answer; there were reporters' notes to string together andtelegrams to transcribe. And all the while a dropping fire of proofsand revises and messages was kept up at them from without, which theyhad to carry to their chief and deal with according to his orders. 

Horace, being inexperienced, was only able to take up the simplerportions of this miscellaneous work, but these kept him busy, "hammerand tongs, " with scarcely time to sneeze till well on in the afternoon. 

The _Rocket_, unlike most evening papers, waited till the evening beforeit appeared, and did not go to press till five o'clock. After that itissued later editions once an hour till eight o'clock, and on specialoccasions even as late as ten. 

The great rush of the day, therefore, as Horace soon discovered, wasover at five o'clock, but between that hour and seven there was alwaysplenty to do in connection with the late editions and the followingday's work. At seven o'clock every one left except a sub-editor and oneof the clerks, and one or two compositors, to see after the eighto'clock and any possible later edition. 

"As soon as you get your hand in, young 'un, you'll have to take yourturn at late work. Booms and I take every other night now. "

Horace could say nothing against this arrangement, though it meant moreseparation from Reginald. At present, however, his hand not being in, he had nothing to keep him after the seven o'clock bell, and he eagerlyescaped at its first sound to look for Reginald. 

Not, however, till he had witnessed a strange sight. 

About a quarter to seven Booms, whose early evening it was, showed signsof uneasiness. He glanced sorrowfully once or twice at the clock, thenat Horace, then at Waterford. Then he got up and put his papers away. Finally he mused on a washhand basin in a corner of the room, and saiddolefully, --

"I must dress, I think, Waterford. "

"All serene, " said Waterford, briskly, "the young 'un and I will finishup here. " Then nudging Horace, he added in a whisper, "He's going torig up now. Don't pretend to notice him, that's all. "

Booms proceeded to divest himself of his office coat and waistcoat andcollar, and to roll up the sleeves of his flannel shirt, preparatory toan energetic wash. He then opened a small box in a corner of the room, from which he produced, first a clothes-brush, with which he carefullyremoved all traces of dust from his nether garments; after that came apair of light-coloured "pats, " which he fitted on to his boots; thencame a bottle of hair-oil, and afterwards a highly-starched "dicky, " orshirt-front, with a stud in it, which by a complicated series of stringsthe owner contrived to fasten round his neck so as to concealeffectually the flannel shirt-front underneath. Once more he dived, andthis time the magic box yielded up what seemed to Horace's uninitiatedeyes to be a broad strip of stiff cardboard, but which turned out to bea collar of fearful and wonderful proportions, which, when onceadjusted, fully explained the wisdom displayed by the wearer in notdeferring the brushing of his trousers and the donning of his "pats" toa later stage of the proceedings. For nothing, not even a pickpocket athis gilt watch-chain with its pendant "charms, " could lower his chin aquarter of an inch till bed-time. But more was yet to come. There werecuffs to put on, which left one to guess what had become of Mr Booms'sknuckles, and a light jaunty necktie to embellish the "dicky. " Then, with a plaintive sigh, he produced a blue figured waistcoat, and afterit a coat shaped like the coat of a robin to cover all. Finally thereappeared a hat, broad-brimmed, low-crowned, and dazzling in itsglossiness, a pair of gay dogskin gloves, a crutch walking-stick, a pinksilk handkerchief, and then this joint work of art and nature wascomplete!

"All right?" said he, in melancholy tones, as he set his hat a little onone side of his head, and, with his stick under his arm, began with hisgloves. 

Waterford got up and walked slowly and critically round him, giving afew touches here and there, and brushing a little stray dust from hiscollar. 

"All right, dear boy. Mind how you go, and--"

"Oh!" groaned Booms, in tones of dire distress, "I knew I should forgetsomething. Would you mind, Waterford?"

"What is it?"

"My glass--it's in the box, and--and I should have got it out before Iput the collar on. Thanks; I should have been lost without it. Oh! ifI _had_ forgotten it!"

With this awful reflection in his mind he bade a sorrowful good-nightand walked off, with his head very erect, his elbows high up, and onehand fondling the nearly-neglected eyeglass. 

"Pretty, isn't it?" said Waterford, as he disappeared. 

"It is--rot, " said Horace, emphatically. "Why ever don't you laugh himout of it?"

"My dear boy, you might as well try to laugh the hair off his head. I've tried it a dozen times. After all, the poor dear fellow means noharm. "

"But what does he do now?"

"Oh, don't ask me. According to his own account he's the fastest manabout town--goes to all the shows, hobnobs with all the swells, smokesfurious cigars, and generally `mashes. ' But my private notion is hemoons about the streets with the handle of his stick in his mouth andlooks in a few shop windows, and gets half a dozen oysters for supper, and then goes home to bed. You see he couldn't well get into muchmischief with that collar on. If he went in for turn-downs I'd beafraid of him. "

The bell cut further conversation short, and in another minute Horaceand Reginald were walking arm-in-arm in the street outside. 

There was much to talk about, much to lament over, and a little torejoice over. Horace felt half guilty as he told his brother of hisgood fortune, and the easy quarters into which he had fallen. ButReginald was in too defiant a mood to share these regrets as much as hewould have done at any other time. As long as Durfy wanted to get ridof him, so long was he determined to stay where he was, and meanwhile inyoung Gedge he had some one to look after, which would make the drudgeryof his daily work tolerable. 

Horace did not altogether like it, but he knew it was no use arguingthen on the subject. They mutually agreed to put the best face oneverything before their mother. She was there to meet them at the door, and it rejoiced her heart to hear their brave talk and the cheery storyof their day's adventures. All day long her heart had gone out to themin yearnings of prayer and hope and love, and it repaid her a hundred-fold, this hour of happy meeting, with the sunlight of their faces andthe music of their voices filling her soul. 

As soon as supper was over Reginald suggested a precipitate retreat intothe streets, for fear of another neighbourly incursion. Mrs Crudenlaughingly yielded, and the trio had a long walk, heedless where theywent, so long as they were together. They wandered as far as OxfordStreet, looking into what shops were open, and interested still more inthe ever-changing stream of people who even at ten o'clock at nightcrowded the pavements. They met no one they knew, not even Booms. Butit mattered little to them that no one noticed them. They had oneanother, and there was a sense of security and comfort in that whichbefore these last few weeks they had never dreamed of. 

They were about to turn out of Oxford Street on their homeward journeywhen a loud shout close by arrested their attention. Looking round, they saw a boy with disordered dress and unsteady gait attempting tocross the road just as a hansom cab was bearing down at full speed onthe place where he stood. They only saw his back, but it was evident hewas either ill or dazed, for he stood stupidly where he was, with theperil in full-view, but somehow helpless to avoid it. The cabmanshouted and pulled at his horse's head. But to the horrified onlookersit was only too clear that nothing could stop his career in time. Hewas already within a yard or two of the luckless boy when Reginald madea sudden dash into the road, charging at him with a violence that senthim staggering forward two paces and then brought him to the earth. Reginald fell too, on the top of him, and as the cab dashed past it justgrazed the sole of his boot where he lay. 

It was all the work of a moment--the shout, the vision of the boy, andthe rescue--so sudden, indeed, that Mrs Cruden had barely time toclutch Horace by the arm before Reginald lay prone in the middle of theroad. In another moment Horace was beside his brother, helping him upout of the mud. 

"Are you hurt, old man?"

"Not a bit, " said Reginald, very pale and breathless, but rising to hisfeet without help. "Look out--there's a crowd--take mother home, andI'll come on as soon as I've seen this fellow safe. I'm not damaged abit. "

With this assurance Horace darted back to his mother in time toextricate her from the crowd which, whatever happens, is sure to collectin the streets of London at a minute's warning. 

"He's all right, " said Horace--"not hurt a bit. Come on, mother, out ofthis; he'll probably catch us up before we're home. I say, " said he, and his voice trembled with excitement and brotherly pride as he spoke, "wasn't it splendid?"

Mrs Cruden would fain have stayed near, but the crowd made itimpossible to be of any use. So she let Horace lead her home, trembling, but with a heart full of thankfulness and pride and love forher young hero. 

Reginald, meanwhile, with the coolness of an old football captain, proceeded to pick up his man, and appealed to the crowd to stand backand give the fellow room. 

The boy lay half-stunned with his fall, his face covered with mud, butto Reginald's delight he was able to move and with a little help standon his feet. As he did so the light from the lamp of the cab fell onhis face, and caused Reginald to utter an exclamation of surprise andhorror. 

"Young Gedge!"

The boy looked at him for a moment in a stupid bewildered way, and thengave a short startled cry. 

"Are you hurt?" said Reginald, putting his arm round him. 

"No--I--I don't think--let's get away. "

Reginald called to the crowd to stand back and let them out, an orderwhich the crowd obeyed surlily and with a disappointed grunt. Not evena broken leg! not even the cabman's number taken down! One or two whohad seen the accident patted Reginald on the back as he went by, but hehurried past them as quickly as he could, and presently stood in theseclusion of a by-street, still supporting his companion on his arm. 

"Are you hurt?" he inquired again. 

"No, " said Gedge; "I can walk. "

The two stood facing one another for a moment in silence, breathlessstill, and trembling with the excitement of the last few minutes. 

"Oh, Cruden!" cried the boy at last, seizing Reginald's arm, "what willyou think of me? I was--I--I'd been drinking--I'm sober now, but--"

Reginald cut him short gently but firmly. 

"I know, " said he. "You'd better go home now, young 'un. "

Gedge made no answer, but walked on, with his arm still in that of hisprotector. 

Reginald saw him into an omnibus, and then returned sadly andthoughtfully homeward. 

"Humph!" said he to himself, as he reached Dull Street, "I suppose Ishall have to stick on at the _Rocket_ after all. "

CHAPTER EIGHT. 

MR. DURFY GIVES REGINALD A TESTIMONIAL. 

Reginald Cruden was a young man who took life hard and seriously. Hewas not brilliant--indeed, he was not clever. He lacked both the goodsense and the good-humour which would have enabled him, like Horace, toaccept and make the best of his present lot. He felt aggrieved by thefamily calamity, and just enough ashamed of his poverty to make himtouchy and intractable to a degree which, as we have seen already, amounted sometimes almost to stupidity. 

Still Reginald was honest. He made no pretence of enjoying life when hedid not enjoy it. He disliked Mr Durfy, and therefore he flared up ifMr Durfy so much as looked at him. He liked young Gedge, and thereforeit was impossible to leave the youngster to his fate and let him ruinhimself without an effort at rescue. 

It is one thing to snatch a heedless one from under the hoofs of a cab-horse and another to pick him up from the slippery path of vice and sethim firmly on his feet. Reginald had thought nothing of the one, but helooked forward with considerable trepidation to meeting the boy nextmorning and attempting the other. 

Gedge was there when he arrived, working very busily, and looking rathertroubled. He flushed up as Reginald approached, and put down hiscomposing-stick to shake hands with him. Reginald looked and felt by along way the more uncomfortable and guilty of the two, and he was atleast thankful that Gedge spared him the trouble of beginning. 

"Oh! Cruden, " said the boy, "I know exactly what you're going to say. You're going to tell me you're deceived in me, and that I'm a young fooland going to the dogs as hard as I can. I don't wonder you think so. "

"I wasn't going to say that, " said Reginald. "I was going to ask youhow you were. "

"Oh, I'm all right; but I know you're going to lecture me, Cruden, andI'm sure you may. There's nothing you can say I don't deserve. I onlywish I could make you believe I'll never be such a fool again. I'vebeen making resolutions all night, and now you've come here I'm sure Ishall be able to break it off. If you will only stand by me, Cruden! Iowe you such a lot. If you only knew how grateful I was!"

"Perhaps we'd better not talk about it now, " said Reginald, feeling veryuncomfortable and rather disconcerted at this glib flow of penitence. 

But young Gedge was full of it yet, and went on, --

"I'm going to turn over a new leaf this very day, Cruden. I've told theerrand-boy he's not to get me any beer, and I'm determined next timethat beast Durfy asks me to go--"

"What!" exclaimed Reginald; "was it with him you used to go?"

"Yes. I know you'll think all the worse of me for it, after theblackguard way he's got on to you. You see, before you came I didn'tlike--that is, I couldn't well refuse him; he'd have made it so hot forme here. I fancy he found out I had some pocket-money of my own, for hegenerally picked on me to come and have drinks with him, and of course Ihad to pay. Why, only last night--look out, here he comes!"

Sure enough he was, and in his usual amiable frame of mind. 

"Oh, there you are, are you?" he said to Reginald, with a sneer. "Doyou know where the lower-case `x' is now, eh?"

Reginald, swelling with the indignation Gedge's story had roused in him, turned his back and made no answer. 

Nothing, as he might have known by this time, could have irritated MrDurfy more. 

"Look here, young gentleman, " said the latter, coming close up toReginald's side and hissing the words very disagreeably in his ear, "when I ask a question in this shop I expect to get an answer; mindthat. And what's more, I'll have one, or you leave this place in fiveminutes. Come, now, give me a lower-case `x. '"

Reginald hesitated a moment. Suppose Mr Durfy had it in him to be asgood as his word. What then about young Gedge?

He picked up an "x" sullenly, and tossed it at the overseer's feet. 

"That's not giving it to me, " said the latter, with a sneer of triumphalready on his face. "Pick it up directly, do you hear? and give it tome. "

Reginald stood and glared first at Mr Durfy, then at the type. 

Yesterday he would have defiantly told him to pick it up himself, caringlittle what the cost might be. But things had changed since then. Humiliating as it was to own it, he could not afford to be turned off. His pride could not afford it, his care for young Gedge could not affordit, the slender family purse could not afford it. Why ever did he notthink of it all before, and spare himself this double indignity?

With a groan which represented as much inward misery and humiliation ascould well be compressed into a single action, he stooped down andpicked up the type and handed it to Mr Durfy. 

It was well for him he did not raise his eyes to see the smile withwhich that gentleman received it. 

"Next time it'll save you trouble to do what you're told at once, MrPuppy, " he said. "Get on with your work, and don't let me catch youidling your time any more. "

And he walked off crowned with victory and as happy in his mind as if hehad just heard of the decease of his enemy the manager. 

It was a bad beginning to the day for Reginald. He had come to workthat morning in a virtuous frame of mind, determined, if possible, to dohis duty peaceably and to hold out a helping hand to young Gedge. Itwas hard enough now to think of anything but his own indignities and thewretch to whom he owed them. 

He turned to his work almost viciously, and for an hour buried himselfin it, without saying a word or lifting his eyes from his case. Thenyoung Gedge, stealing a nervous glance at his face, ventured to say, --

"I say, Cruden, I wish I could stand things like you. I don't know whatI should have done if that blackguard had treated me like that. "

"What's the use?" said Reginald. "He wants to get rid of me, and I'mnot going to let him. "

"I'm jolly glad of it for my sake. I wish I could pay him out for you. "

"So you can. "

"How?"

"Next time he wants you to go and drink, say No, " said Reginald. 

"Upon my word I will, " said Gedge; "and I don't care how hot he makes itfor me, if you stick by me, Cruden. "

"You know I'll stick by you, young 'un, " said Reginald; "but that won'tdo you much good, unless you stick by yourself. Suppose Durfy managedto get rid of me after all--"

"Then I should go to--to the dogs, " said Gedge, emphatically. 

"You're a greater fool than I took you for, then, " said Reginald. "Ifyou only knew, " he added more gently, "what a job it is to do what'sright myself, and how often I don't do it, you'd see it's no useexpecting me to be good for you and myself both. "

"What on earth am I to do, then? I'm certain I can't keep squaremyself; I never could. Who's to look after me if you don't?"

Like a brave man, Reginald, shy and reserved as he was, told him. 

I need not repeat what was said that morning over the type cases. Itwas not a sermon, nor a catechism; only a few stammering laboured wordsspoken by a boy who felt himself half a hypocrite as he said them, andwho yet, for the affection he bore his friend, had the courage to gothrough with a task which cost him twenty times the effort of rescuingthe boy yesterday from his bodily peril. 

Little good, you will say, such a sermon from such a perverse, bad-humoured preacher as Reginald Cruden, could do! Very likely, reader;but, after all, who are you or I to say so? Had any one told Reginald aweek ago what would be taking place to-day, he would have coloured upindignantly and hoped he was not quite such a prig as all that. As itwas, when it was all over, it was with no self-satisfied smile or inwardgratulation that he returned to his work, but rather with the nervousuncomfortable misgivings of one who says to himself, --

"After all I may have done more harm than good. "

By the end of a fortnight Reginald, greatly to Mr Durfy'sdissatisfaction, was an accomplished compositor. He could set-up almostas quickly as Gedge, and his "proofs" showed far fewer corrections. Moreover, as he was punctual in his hours, and diligent at his work, itwas extremely difficult for the overseer or any one else to find anypretext for abusing him. 

It is true, Mr Barber, who had not yet given up the idea of assertinghis moral and intellectual superiority, continued by the ingeniousdevice of "squabbling" his case, and tampering with the screw of hiscomposing-stick, and other such pleasing jokes not unknown to printers, to disconcert the new beginner on one or two occasions. But ever sinceReginald one morning, catching him in the act of mixing up his e's withhis a's, had carried him by the collar of his coat and the belt of hisbreeches to the water tank and dipped his head therein three times withno interval for refreshment between, Mr Barber had moderated hisattentions and become less exuberant in his humour. 

With the exception of Gedge, now his fast ally, Reginald's other fellow-workmen concerned themselves very little with his proceedings. One ortwo, indeed, noticing his proficiency, hinted to him that he was a foolto work for the wages he was getting, and some went so far as to say hehad no right to do so, and had better join the "chapel" to save trouble. 

What the "chapel" was Reginald did not trouble even to inquire, andreplied curtly that it was no business of any one else what his wageswere. 

"Wasn't it?" said the deputation. "What was to become of them iffellows did their work for half wages, they should like to know?"

"Are you going off, or must I make you?" demanded Reginald, feeling hehad had enough of it. 

And the deputation, remembering Barber's head and the water tank, withdrew, very much perplexed what to do to uphold the dignity of the"chapel. "

They decided to keep their "eye" on him, and as they were able to dothis at a distance, Reginald had no objection at all to their decision. 

He meanwhile was keeping his eye on Gedge and Mr Durfy, and about afortnight after his arrival at the _Rocket_, a passage of arms occurredwhich, slight as it was, had a serious influence on the future of allthree parties concerned. 

The seven o'clock bell had rung, and this being one of Horace's lateevenings, Reginald proposed to Gedge to stroll home with him and calland see Mrs Cruden. 

The boy accepted readily, and the two were starting off arm in arm whenMr Durfy confronted them. Reginald, who had never met his adversarybeyond the precincts of the _Rocket_ before, did not for a momentrecognise the vulgar, loudly dressed little man, sucking his big cigarand wearing his pot hat ostentatiously on one side; but when he did heturned contemptuously aside and said, --

"Come on, young 'un. "

"Come on, young 'un!" echoed Mr Durfy, taking his cigar from his mouthand flicking the ashes in Reginald's direction, "that's just what I wasgoing to say. Young Gedge, you're coming with me to-night. I've gotorders for the Alhambra, my boy, and supper afterwards. "

"Thank you, " said Gedge, rather uncomfortably, "it's very kind of you, Mr Durfy, but I've promised Cruden to go with him. "

"Promised Cruden! What do you mean? Cruden'll keep till to-morrow; theorders won't. "

"I'm afraid I can't, " said Gedge. 

"Afraid! I tell you I don't mean to stand here all night begging you. Just come along and no more nonsense. We'll have a night of it. "

"You must excuse me, " said the boy, torn between Reginald on the onehand and the fear of offending Durfy on the other. 

The latter began to take in the position of affairs, and his temperevaporated accordingly. 

"I won't excuse you; that's all about it, " he said; "let go thatsnivelling lout's arm and do what you're told. Let the boy alone, doyou hear?" added he, addressing Reginald, "and take yourself off. Comealong, Gedge. "

"Gedge is not going with you, " said Reginald, keeping the boy's arm inhis; "he's coming with me, aren't you, young 'un?"

The boy pressed his arm gratefully, but made no reply. 

This was all Mr Durfy wanted to fill up the vials of his wrath. 

"You miserable young hound you, " said he, with an oath; "let go the boythis moment, or I'll turn you out of the place--and him too. "

Reginald made no reply. His face was pale, but he kept the boy's armstill fast in his own. 

"Going with you, indeed?" shouted Mr Durfy; "going with you, is he? tolearn how to cant and sing psalms! Not if I know it--or if he does, youand he and your brother and your old fool of a mother--"

Mr Durfy never got to the end of that sentence. A blow straight fromthe shoulder of the Wilderham captain sent him sprawling on the pavementbefore the word was well out of his mouth. 

It had come now. It had been bound to come sooner or later, andReginald, as he drew the boy's arm once more under his own, felt almosta sense of relief as he stood and watched Mr Durfy slowly pick himselfup and collect his scattered wardrobe. 

It was some time before the operation was complete, and even then MrDurfy's powers of speech had not returned. With a malignant scowl hestepped up to his enemy and hissed the one menace, --

"All right!" and then walked away. 

Reginald waited till he had disappeared round the corner, and then, turning to his companion, took a long breath and said, --

"Come along, young 'un; it can't be helped. "

The reader must forgive me if I ask him to leave the two lads to walk toDull Street by themselves, while he accompanies me in the wake of theoutraged and mud-stained Mr Durfy. 

That gentleman was far more wounded in his mind than in his person. Hemay have been knocked down before in his life, but he had never, as faras he could recollect, been quite so summarily routed by a boy half hisage earning only eighteen shillings a week! And the conviction thatsome people would think he had only got his deserts in what he hadsuffered, pained him very much indeed. 

He did not go to the Alhambra. His clothes were too dirty, and hisspirits were far too low. He did, in the thriftiness of his soul, attempt to sell his orders in the crowd at the theatre door. But no onerose to the bait, so he had to put them back in his pocket on the chanceof being able to "doctor up" the date and crush in with them some otherday. Then he mooned listlessly up and down the streets for an hour tillhis clothes were dry, and then turned into a public-house to get a brushdown and while away another hour. 

Still the vision of Reginald standing where he had last seen him withyoung Gedge at his side haunted him and spoiled his pleasure. Hewandered forth again, feeling quite lonely, and wishing some one orsomething would turn up to comfort him. Nor was he disappointed. 

"The very chap, " said a voice suddenly at his side when he was beginningto despair of any diversion. 

"So it is. How are you, my man? We were talking of you not two minutesago. "

Durfy pulled up and found himself confronted by two gentlemen, one aboutforty and the other a fashionable young man of twenty-five. 

"How are you, Mr Medlock?" said he to the elder in as familiar a toneas he could assume; "glad to see you, sir. How are you, too, MrShanklin, pretty well?"

"Pretty fair, " said Mr Shanklin. "Come and have a drink, Durfy. Youlook all in the blues. Gone in love, I suppose, eh? or been speculatingon the Stock Exchange? You shouldn't, you know, a respectable man likeyou. "

"He looks as if he'd been speculating in mud, " said Mr Medlock, pointing to the unfortunate overseer's collar and hat, which still boretraces of his recent calamity. "Never mind; we'll wash it off in theBodega. Come along. "

Durfy felt rather shy at first in his grand company, especially with theconsciousness of his muddy collar. But after about half an hour in theBodega he recovered his self-possession, and felt himself at home. 

"By the way, " said Mr Medlock, filling up his visitor's glass, "lasttime we saw you you did us nicely over that tip for the Park Races, myboy! If Alf and I hadn't been hedged close up, we should have lost apot of money. "

"I'm very sorry, " said Durfy. "You see, another telegram came after theone I showed you, that I never saw; that's how it happened. I reallydid my best for you. "

"But it's a bad job, if we pay you to get hold of the _Rocket's_telegrams and then lose our money over it, " said Mr Medlock. "Nevermind this time, but you'd better look a little sharper, my boy. There'sthe Brummagem Cup next week, you know, and we shall want to know thelatest scratches on the night before. It'll be worth a fiver to you ifyou work it well, Durfy. Fill up your glass. "

Mr Durfy obeyed, glad enough to turn the conversation from themiscarriage of his last attempt to filch his employers' telegrams forthe benefit of his betting friends' and his own pocket. 

"By the way, " said Mr Shanklin, presently, "Moses and I have got alittle Company on hand just now, Durfy. What do you think of that?"

"A company?" said Mr Durfy; "I'll wager it's not a limited one, ifyou're at the bottom of it! What's your little game now?"

"It's a little idea of Alf's, " said Mr Medlock, whose Christian namewas Moses, "and it ought to come off too. This is something the way ofit. Suppose you were a young greenhorn, Durfy--which I'm afraid youaren't--and saw an advertisement in the _Rocket_ saying you could maketwo hundred and fifty pounds a year easy without interfering with yourbusiness, eh? what would you do?"

"If I was a greenhorn, " said Durfy, "I'd answer the advertisement andenclose a stamped envelope for a reply. "

"To be sure you would! And the reply would be, we'd like to have a lookat you, and if you looked as green as we took you for, we'd ask for adeposit, and then allow you to sell wines and cigars and that sort offancy goods to your friends. You'd sell a dozen of port at sixtyshillings, do you see? half the cash down and half on delivery. We'dsend your friend a dozen at twelve and six, and if he didn't shell outthe other thirty bob on delivery, we'd still have the thirty bob he paiddown to cover our loss. Do you twig?"

Durfy laughed. "Do you dream all these things, " he said, "or how do youever think of them?"

"Genius, my boy; genius, " said Mr Medlock. "Of course, " he added, "itcouldn't run for long, but we might give it a turn for a month or two. "

"The worst of it is, " put in Mr Shanklin, "it's a ticklish sort ofbusiness that some people are uncommon sharp at smelling out; one has tobe very careful. There's the advertisement, for instance. You'll haveto smuggle it into the _Rocket_, my boy. It wouldn't do for thegovernors to see it; they'd be up to it. But they'd never see it afterit was in, and the _Rocket's_ just the paper for us. "

"I'll try and manage that, " said Durfy. "You give it me, and I'll stickit in with a batch of others somehow. "

"Alf thinks we'd better do the thing from Liverpool, " continued MrMedlock, "and all we want is a good secretary--a nice, green, innocent, stupid, honest young fellow--that's what we want. If we could pick upone of that sort, there's no doubt of the thing working. "

Mr Durfy started and coloured up, and then looked first at Mr Medlockand then at Mr Shanklin. 

"What's the matter? Do you think _you'd_ suit the place?" asked theformer, with a laugh. 

"No; but I know who will!"

"You do! Who?"

"A young puppy under me at the _Rocket_?" said Durfy, excitedly; "thevery man to a T!" And he thereupon launched into a description ofReginald's character in a way which showed that not only was he a shrewdobserver of human nature in his way, but, when it served his purpose, could see the good even in a man he hated. 

"I tell you, " said he, "he's born for you, if you can only get him! Andif you don't think so after what I've said, perhaps you'll believe mewhen I tell you, on the quiet, he knocked me down in the gutter thisvery evening because I wanted to carry off a young convert of his tomake a night of it at the Alhambra. There, what do you think of that?I wouldn't tell tales of myself like that for fun, I can tell you!"

"There's no mistake about that being the sort of chap we want, " said MrMedlock. 

"If only we can get hold of him, " said Mr Shanklin. 

"Leave that to me, " said Mr Durfy; "only if he comes to you never say aword about me, or he'll shy off. "

Whereupon these three guileless friends finished their glasses andseparated in great good spirits and mutual admiration. 

CHAPTER NINE. 

SAMUEL SHUCKLEFORD COMES OF AGE. 

Reginald, meanwhile, blissfully unconscious of the arrangements whichwere being made for him, spent as comfortable an evening as he could inthe conviction that to-morrow would witness his dismissal from the_Rocket_, and see him a waif on the great ocean of London life. To hismother, and even to young Gedge, he said nothing of his misgivings, butto Horace, as the two lay awake that night, he made a clean breast ofall. 

"You'll call me a fool, I suppose, " he said; "but how could I help it?"

"A fool! Why, Reg, I know I should have done the same. But for allthat, it _is_ unlucky. "

"It is. Even eighteen shillings a week is better than nothing, " saidReginald, with a groan. "Poor mother was saying only yesterday we werejust paying for our keep, and nothing more. What will she do now?"

"Oh, you'll get into something, I'm certain, " said Horace; "andmeanwhile--"

"Meanwhile I'll do anything rather than live on you and mother, Horrors;I've made up my mind to that. Why, " continued he, "you wouldn't believewhat a sneak I've been already. You know what Bland said about thefootball club in his letter? No, I didn't show it to you. He said itwould go down awfully well if I sent the fellows my usual subscription. I couldn't bear not to do it after that, and I--I sold my tennis-bat forfive shillings, and took another five shillings out of my last twoweeks' wages, and sent them half a sov. The other day. "

Horace gave an involuntary whistle of dismay, but added, quickly, --

"I hope the fellows will be grateful for it, old man; they ought to be. Never mind, I'm certain we shall pull through it some day. We must hopefor the best, anyhow. "

And with a brotherly grip of the hand they turned over and went tosleep. 

Reginald presented himself at the _Rocket_ next morning in an unusualstate of trepidation. He had half made up his mind to march straight tothe manager's room and tell him boldly what had happened, and take hisdischarge from him. But Horace dissuaded him. 

"After all, " he said, "Durfy may think better of it. "

"Upon my word I hardly know whether I want him to, " said Reginald, "except for young Gedge's sake and mother's. Anyhow, I'll wait and see, if you like. "

Mr Durfy was there when he arrived, bearing no traces of last night's_fracas_, except a scowl and a sneer, which deepened as he caught sightof his adversary. Reginald passed close to his table, in order to givehim an opportunity of coming to the point at once; but to his surprisethe overseer took no apparent notice of him, and allowed him to go tohis place and begin work as usual. 

"I'd sooner see him tearing his hair than grinning like that, " saidyoung Gedge, in a whisper. "You may be sure there's something in thewind. "

Whatever it was, Mr Durfy kept his own counsel, and though Reginaldlooked up now and then and caught him scowling viciously in hisdirection, he made no attempt at hostilities, and rather appeared toignore him altogether. 

Even when he was giving out the "copy" he sent Reginald his by a boy, instead of, as was usually his practice, calling him up to the table toreceive it. Reginald's copy on this occasion consisted of a number ofadvertisements, a class of work not nearly as easy and far lessinteresting than the paragraphs of news which generally fell to hisshare. However, he attacked them boldly, and, unattractive as theywere, contrived to get some occupation from them for his mind as well ashis hand. 

Here, for instance, was some one who wanted "a groom, young, good-looking, and used to horses. " How would that suit him? And why need hebe good-looking? And what was the use of saying he must be used tohorses? Who ever heard of a groom that wasn't? The man who put in thatadvertisement was a muff. Here was another of a different sort:

"J. S. Come back to your afflicted mother and all shall be forgiven. "

Heigho! suppose "J. S. " had got a mother like Mrs Cruden, what a brutehe must be to cut away. What had he been doing to her? robbing her? orbullying her? or what? Reginald worked himself into a state of wrathover the prodigal, and very nearly persuaded himself to leave out thepromise of forgiveness altogether. 

"If the young gentleman who dropped an envelope in the Putney omnibus onthe evening of the 6th instant will apply to B, at 16, Grip Street, hemay hear of something to his advantage. "

How some people were born to luck! Think of making your fortune bydropping an envelope in a Putney omnibus. How gladly he would pave thefloor of every omnibus he rode in with envelopes if only he couldthereby hear anything to his advantage! He had a great mind to strollround by Number 16, Grip Street that evening to see who this mysterious"B" could be. 

"To intelligent young men in business. --Add £50 a year to your incomewithout any risk or hindrance whatever to ordinary work. --Applyconfidentially to Omega, 13, Shy Street, Liverpool, with stamp forreply. None but respectable intelligent young men need apply. "

Hullo! Reginald laid down his composing-stick and read theadvertisement over again: and after that he read it again, word by word, most carefully. £50 a year! Why, that was as much again as his presentincome, and without risk or interfering with his present work too!Well, his present work might be his past work to-morrow; but even so, with £50 a year he would be no worse off, and of course he could getsomething else to do as well by way of ordinary work. If only he couldbring in £100 a year to the meagre family store! What little luxuriesmight it not procure for his mother! What a difference it might make inthat dreary, poky Dull Street parlour, where she sat all day! Or ifthey decided not to spend it, but save it up, think of a pound a weekready against a rainy day! Reginald used to have loose enough ideas ofthe value of money; but the last few weeks had taught him lessons, andone of them was that a pound a week could work wonders. 

"Apply confidentially. " Yes, of course, or else any duffer might snatchat the prize. It was considerate, too, to put it that way, for ofcourse it would be awkward for any one in a situation to apply unless hecould do it confidentially--and quite right too to enclose a stamp for areply. No one who wasn't in earnest would do so, and thus it would keepout fellows who applied out of mere idle curiosity. "None butrespectable intelligent young men need apply. " Humph! Reginald'sconscience told him he was respectable, and he hoped he was alsomoderately intelligent, though opinions might differ on that point. "Omega"--that sounded well! The man knew Greek--possibly he was aclassical scholar, and therefore sure to be a gentleman. Oh, what acontrast to the cad Durfy! "Liverpool. " Ah, there was the onedrawback; and yet of course it did not follow the £50 a year was to beearned in Liverpool, otherwise how could it fail to interfere withordinary business? Besides, why should he advertise in the _Rocket_unless he meant to get applications from Londoners?

Altogether Reginald was pleased with the advertisement. He liked theway it was put, and the conditions it imposed, and, indeed, was so muchtaken up with the study of it that he almost forgot to set it up intype. 

"Whatever are you dreaming about?" said young Gedge. "You've stood likethat for a quarter of an hour at least. You'll have Durfy after you ifyou don't mind. "

The name startled Reginald into industry, and he set the advertisementup very clearly and carefully, and re-read it once or twice in the typebefore he could make up his mind to go on to the next. 

The thought of it haunted him all day. Should he tell Horace, or Gedge, or his mother of it? Should he go and give Durfy notice then and there?No, he would reply to it before he told any one; and then, if theanswer _was_ unsatisfactory--which he could not think possible--then noone would be the wiser or the worse for it. 

The day flew on leaden wings. Gedge put his friend's silence down toanxiety as to the consequences of yesterday's adventure and did and saidwhat he could to express his sympathy. Mr Durfy alone, sitting at histable, and directing sharp glances every now and then in his direction, could guess the real meaning of his pre-occupation, and chuckled tohimself as he saw it. 

Reginald spent threepence on his way home that evening--one in procuringa copy of the _Rocket_, and two on a couple of postage-stamps. Armedwith these he walked rapidly home with Horace, giving him in an absentsort of way a chronicle of the day's doings, but breathing not a word tohim or his mother subsequently about the advertisement. 

After supper he excused himself from joining in the usual walk by sayinghe had a letter to write, and for the first time in his life feltrelieved to see his mother and brother go and leave him behind them. 

Then he pulled out the newspaper and eagerly read the advertisement oncemore in print. There it was, not a bit changed! Lots of fellows hadseen it by this time, and some of them very likely were at this momentanswering it. They shouldn't get the start of him, though!

He sat down and wrote--

"Sir, --Having seen your advertisement in the _Rocket_, I beg to applyfor particulars. I am respectable and fairly intelligent, and am atpresent employed as compositor in the _Rocket_ newspaper-office. Ishall be glad to increase my income. I am 18 years of age, and beg toenclose stamp for a reply to this address. 

"Yours truly, --

"Reginald Cruden. "

He was not altogether pleased with this letter, but it would have to do. If he had had any idea what the advertiser wanted intelligent young menfor, he might have been able to state his qualifications better. Butwhat was the use of saying "I think I shall suit you, " when possibly hemight not suit after all?

He addressed the letter carefully, and wrote "private and confidential"on the envelope; and then walked out to post it, just in time, afterdoing so, to meet his mother and Horace returning from their excursion. 

"Well, Reg, have you written your letter?" said his mother, cheerily. "Was it to some old schoolfellow?"

"No, mother, " said Reginald, in a tone which meant, "I would rather youdid not ask me. " And Mrs Cruden did not ask. 

"I think, " said she, as they stopped at their door--"I almost think, boys, we ought to return the Shucklefords' call. It's only nineo'clock. We might go in for a few minutes. I know you don't care aboutit; but we must not be rude, you know. What do you think, Reg?"

Reg sighed and groaned and said, "If we must we must"; and so, insteadof going in at their own door, they knocked at the next. 

The tinkle of a piano upstairs, and the sound of Sam's voice, audibleeven in the street, announced only too unmistakably that the family wasat home, and a collection of pot hats and shawls in the hall betrayedthe appalling fact, when it was _too_ late to retreat, that theShucklefords had visitors! Mrs Shuckleford came out and received themwith open arms. 

"'Ow 'appy I am to see you and the boys, " said she. "I suppose you sawthe extra lights and came in. Very neighbourly it was. We thoughtabout sending you an invite, but didn't like while you was in black foryour 'usband. But it's all the same now you're here. Very 'appy to seeyou. Jemima, my dear, come and tell Mrs Cruden and the boys you're'appy to see them; Sam too--it's Sam's majority, Mrs Cruden; twenty-onehe is to-day, and his pa all over--oh, 'ow 'appy I am you've come. "

"We had no idea you had friends, " said Mrs Cruden, nervously. "We'llcall again, please. "

"No you don't, Mrs Cruden, " said the effusive Mrs Shuckleford; "'ereyou are, and 'ere you stays--I am so 'appy to see you. You and I can'ave a cosy chat in the corner while the young folk enjoy theirselves. Jemima, put a chair for Mrs C. Alongside o' mine; and, Sam, take theboys and see they have some one to talk to 'em. "

The dutiful Sam, who appeared entirely to share his mother's jubilationat the arrival of these new visitors, obeyed the order with alacrity. 

"Come on, young fellows, " said he; "just in time for shouting proverbs. You go and sit down by Miss Tomkins, Horace, her in the green frock; andyou had better go next Jemima, Cruden. When I say `three and away'you've got to shout. Anything'll do, so long as you make a noise. "

"No, they must shout their right word, " said Miss Tomkins, a vivacious-looking young person of thirty. 

"Come close, " said she to Horace, "and I'll whisper what you've got toshout. Whisper, `Dog, ' that's your word. "

Horace seated himself dreamily where he was told, and received theconfidential communication of his partner with pathetic resignation. Heonly wished the signal to shout might soon arrive. As for Reginald, when he felt himself once more in the clutches of the captivatingJemima, and heard her whisper in his ear the mysterious monosyllable"love, " his heart became as ice within him, and he sat like a statue inhis chair, looking straight before him. Oh, how he hoped "Omega" wouldgive him some occupation for his evenings that would save him from thissort of thing!

"Now call them in, " said Sam. 

A signal was accordingly given at the door, and in marched a young lady, really a pleasant, sensible-looking young person, accompanied by amagnificently-attired young gentleman, who, to Horace's amazement, proved to be no other than the melancholy Booms. 

There was, however, no time just now for an exchange of greetings. 

Mr Booms and his partner were placed standing in the middle of thefloor, and the rest of the company were seated in a crescent round them. There was a pause, and you might have heard a pin drop as Samuel slowlylifted his hand and said in a stage whisper, --

"Now then, mind what you're at. When I say `away. ' One, two, three, and a--"

At the last syllable there arose a sudden and terrific shout which sentMrs Cruden nearly into a fit, and made the loosely-hung windows rattleas if an infernal machine had just exploded on the premises. 

The shout was immediately followed by a loud chorus of laughter, andcries of, --

"Well, have you guessed it?"

"Yes, I know what it is, " said the pleasant young lady. "Do you know, Mr Booms?"

"No, " he said, sadly; "how could I guess? What is it, Miss Crisp?"

"Why, `Love me, _love_ my dog, ' isn't it?"

"Right. Well guessed!" cried every one; and amid the generalfelicitation that ensued the successful proverb-guessers were made roomfor in the magic circle, and Horace had a chance of exchanging "How d'yedo?" with Mr Booms. 

"Who'd have thought of meeting you here?" said he, in a whisper. 

"I didn't expect to meet you, " said the melancholy one. "I say, Cruden, please don't mention--_her_. "

"Her? Whom?" said Horace, bewildered. 

Booms's reply was a mournful inclination of the head in the direction ofMiss Crisp. 

"Oh, I see. All right, old man. You're a lucky fellow, I think. Shelooks a jolly sort of girl. "

"Lucky! Jolly! Oh, Cruden, " ejaculated his depressed friend. 

"Why, what's wrong?" said Horace. "Don't you think she's nice?"

"She is; but Shuckleford, Cruden, is not. "

"Hullo, you two, " said the voice of the gentleman in question at thismoment; "you seem jolly thick. Oh, of course, shopmates; I forgot; bothin the news line. Eh? Now, who's for musical chairs? Don't all speakat once. "

"I shall have to play the piano now, Mr Reginald, " said Miss Jemima, making a last effort to get a word out of her silent companion. "I'mafraid you're not enjoying yourself a bit. "

Reginald rose instinctively as she did, and offered her his arm. He washalf dreaming as he did so, and fancying himself back at Garden Vale. It was to his credit that when he discovered what he was doing he didnot withdraw his arm, but conducted his partner gallantly to the piano, and said, --

"I'm afraid I'm a bad hand at games. "

"Musical chairs is great fun, " said Miss Jemima. "I wish I could playit and the piano both. You have to run round and round, and then, whenthe music stops, you flop down on the nearest chair, and there's alwaysone left out, and the last one wins the game. Do try it. "

Reginald gave a scared glance at the chairs being arranged back to backin a long line down the room, and said, --

"May I play the piano instead? and then you can join in the game. "

"What! do _you_ play the piano?" exclaimed the young lady, forgettingher dignity and clapping her hands. "Oh, my eye, what a novelty! Ma, Mr Reginald's going to play for musical chairs! Sam, do you hear? MrCruden plays the piano! Isn't it fun?"

Reginald flung himself with a sigh down on the cracked music-stool. Music was his one passion, and the last few months had been bitter tohim for want of it. He would go out of his way even to hear a streetpiano, and the brightest moments of his Sundays were often those spentwithin sound of the roll of the organ. 

It was like a snatch of the old life to find his fingers once more laidcaressingly on the notes of a piano; and as he touched them and began toplay, the Shucklefords, the _Rocket_, "Omega, " all faded from histhoughts, and he was lost in his music. 

What a piano it was! Tinny and cracked and out of tune. The music wasin the boy's soul, and it mattered comparatively little. He began withWeber's "last waltz, " and dreamed off from it into a gavotte ofCorelli's, and from that into something else, calling up favourite afterfavourite to suit the passing moods of his spirit, and feeling happierthan he had felt for months. 

But Weber's "last waltz" and Corelli's gavottes are not the music onewould naturally select for musical chairs; and when the strains continueuninterrupted for five or ten-minutes, during the whole of which timethe company is perambulating round and round an array of empty chairs, the effect is somewhat monotonous. Mrs Shuckleford's guests trottedround good-humouredly for some time, then they got a little tired, thena little impatient, and finally Samuel, as he passed close behind themusic-stool, gave the performer a dig in the back, which had the desiredeffect of stopping the music suddenly. Whereupon everybody flopped downon the seat nearest within reach. Some found vacancies at once, othershad to scamper frantically round in search of them, and finally, as thechairs were one fewer in number than the company, one luckless playerwas left out to enjoy the fun of those who remained in. 

"All right, " said Samuel, when the first round was decided, and a chairwithdrawn in anticipation of the next; "I only nudged you to stop a bitsooner, Cruden. The game will last till midnight if you give us suchlong doses. "

Doses! Reginald turned again to the piano and tried once more to losehimself in its comforting music. He played a short German air of onlyfour lines, which ended in a plaintive, wailing cadence. Again themoment the music ceased he heard the scuffling and scampering andlaughter behind him, and shouts of, --

"Polly's out! Polly's out!"

"I say, " said Shuckleford, as they stood ready for the next round, "giveus a jingle, Cruden; `Pop goes the Weasel, ' or something of that sort. That last was like the tune the cow died of. And stop short in themiddle of a line, anyhow. "

Reginald rose from the piano with flushed cheeks, and said, --"I'm afraidI'm not used to this sort of music. Perhaps Miss Shuckleford--"

"Yes, Jim, you play. You know the way. You change places with Jim, Cruden, and come and run round. "

But Reginald declined the invitation with thanks, and took up a comicpaper, in which he attempted to bury himself, while Miss Shucklefordhammered out the latest polka on the piano, stopping abruptly andfrequently enough to finish half a dozen rounds in the time it had takenhim to dispose of two. 

Fresh games followed, and to all except the Crudens the evening passedmerrily and happily. Even Horace felt the infection of the prevalentgood-humour, and threw off the reserve he had at first been tempted towear in an effort to make himself generally agreeable. Mrs Cruden, cooped up in a corner with her loquacious hostess, did her best too notto be a damper on the general festivity. But Reginald made no effort tobe other than he felt himself. He could not have done it if he hadtried. But as scarcely any one seemed afflicted on his account, evenhis unsociability failed to make Samuel Shuckleford's majority partyanything but a brilliant success. 

In due time supper appeared to crown the evening's delights. And aftersupper a gentleman got up and proposed a toast, which of course was thehealth of the hero of the occasion. 

Samuel replied in a facetious County Court address, in which heexpressed himself "jolly pleased to see so many friends around him, andhoping they'd all enjoyed their evening, and that if there were any ofthem still to come of age--(laughter)--they'd have as high an old timeof it as he had had to-night. He was sure ma and Jim said ditto to allhe said. And before he sat down he was very glad to see their new next-door neighbours. (Hear, hear. ) They'd had their troubles, but theycould reckon on friends in that room. The young fellows were bound toget on if they stuck to their shop, and he'd like to drink the health ofthem and their ma. " (Cheers. )

The health was drunk. Mrs Cruden looked at Reginald, Horace looked atReginald, but Reginald looked straight before him and bit his lips andbreathed hard. Whereupon Horace rose and said, --

"We think it very kind of you to drink our healths; and I am sure we aremuch obliged to you all for doing so. "

Which said, the Shucklefords' party broke up, and the Crudens went home. 

CHAPTER TEN. 

"WILL YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOUR?" SAID THE SPIDER TO THE FLY. 

The two days which followed the despatch of the letter to "Omega" werelong and anxious ones for Reginald Cruden. It would have been a greatrelief to him had he felt free to talk the matter over with Horace; butsomehow that word "confidential" in the advertisement deterred him. Forall that, he made a point of leaving the paper containing it in hisbrother's way, if by any chance the invitation to an additional £50 ayear might meet his eye. Had it done so, it is doubtful whetherReginald would have been pleased, for he knew that if it came toselecting one of the two, Horace would probably pass for quite asrespectable and considerably more intelligent a young man than himself. Still, he had no right to stand in his brother's way if fate ordainedthat he too should be attracted by the advertisement. He therefore leftthe paper lying conspicuously about with the advertisement sheet turnedtoward the beholder. 

Horace, however, had too much of the _Rocket_ in his business hours tocrave for a further perusal of it during his leisure. He kicked itunceremoniously out of his way the first time he encountered it; andwhen Reginald saw it next it was in a mangled condition under the stairsin the suspicious company of the servant-girl's cinder-shovel. 

On the second morning, when he arrived at his work, a letter lay on hiscase with the Liverpool postmark, addressed R. Cruden, Esquire, _Rocket_ Office, London. In his excitement and haste to learn itscontents it never occurred to him to notice the unexpected complimentconveyed in the word "Esquire"; and he might have remained for ever inblissful ignorance of the fact, had not his left-hand neighbour, thesatirical Mr Barber, considered the occasion a good one for a fewflashes of wit. 

"'Ullo, Esquire, 'ow are you, Esquire? There is somebody knows you, then. Liverpool, too! That's where all the chaps who rob the till goto. R. Cruden, Esquire--my eye! What's the use of putting any morethan `London' on the envelope--such a well-known character as you?Stuck-up idiot!"

To this address Reginald attended sufficiently to discover that it wasnot worth listening to; after which he did not even hear the concludingpassages of his neighbour's declamation, being absorbed in far moreinteresting inquiries. He tore the envelope open and hurriedly read--

"Sir, --Your favour is to hand, and in reply we beg to say we shall beglad to arrange an interview. One of our directors will be in town onMonday next, and can see you between one and two o'clock at Weaver'sHotel. Be good enough to treat this and all further communications asstrictly confidential. --We are, Sir, yours faithfully, --

"The Select Agency Corporation. 

"P. S. --Ask at Weaver's Hotel for Mr Medlock. 

"Liverpool. "

The welcome contents of this short note fairly staggered him. If thetone of the advertisement had been encouraging, that of this letter waspositively convincing. It was concise, business-like, grammatical andcourteous. Since his trouble Reginald had never been addressed by anyone in the terms of respect conveyed in this communication. Furthermore, the appointment being between one and two--the dinner-hour--he would be able to keep it without difficulty or observation, particularly as Weaver's Hotel was not a stone's throw from the _Rocket_office. Then again, the fact of his letter being from a "corporation"gratified and encouraged him. A Select Agency Corporation was not thesort of company to do things meanly or inconsiderately. They weredoubtless a select body of men themselves, and they required theservices of select servants; and it was perfectly reasonable that in anaffair like this, which _might_ lead to nothing, strict mutualconfidence should be observed. Supposing in the end he should seereason to decline to connect himself with the Corporation (Reginaldliked to think this possible, though he felt sure it was not probable), why, if he had said much about it previously, it _might_ be to theprejudice of the Corporation! Finally, he thought the name "Medlock"agreeable, and was generally highly gratified with the letter, andwished devoutly Monday would come round quickly. 

The one drawback to his satisfaction was that he was still as far asever from knowing in what direction his respectable and intelligentservices were likely to be required. Monday came at last. When he wentup on the Saturday to receive his wages he had fully expected to learnMr Durfy's intentions with regard to him, and was duly surprised whenthat gentleman actually handed him his money without a word, and withthe faintest suspicion of a smile. 

"He's got a nailer on you, old man, and no mistake, " said Gedge, dolefully. "I'd advise you to keep your eye open for a new berth, ifyou get the chance; and, I say, if you can only hear of one for two!"

This last appeal went to Reginald's heart, and he inwardly resolved, ifMr Medlock turned out to be as amiable a man as he took him for, to putin a word on Gedge's behalf as well as his own at the coming interview. 

The dinner-bell that Monday tolled solemnly in Reginald's ears as he puton a clean collar and brushed his hair previously to embarking on hisjourney to Weaver's Hotel. What change might not have taken place inhis lot before that same bell summoned him once more to work? He leftthe _Rocket_ a needy youth of £47 10 shillings a year. Was he to returnto it passing rich of £97 10 shillings?

Weaver's Hotel was a respectable quiet resort for country visitors inLondon, and Reginald, as he stood in its homely entrance hall, feltsecretly glad that the Corporation selected a place like this for itsLondon headquarters rather than one of the more showy but lessrespectable hotels or restaurants with which the neighbourhood abounded. 

Mr Medlock was in his room, the waiter said, and Mr Cruden was to stepup. He did step up, and was ushered into a little sitting-room, where amiddle-aged gentleman stood before the fire-place reading the paper andsoftly humming to himself as he did so. 

"Mr Cruden, sir, " said the waiter. 

"Ah! Mr Cruden, good morning. Take a seat. John, I shall be readyfor lunch in about ten-minutes. "

Reginald, with the agitating conviction that his fate would be sealedone way or another in ten-minutes, obeyed, and darted a nervous glanceat his new acquaintance. 

He rather liked the looks of him. He looked a comfortable, well-to-dogentleman, with rather a handsome face, and a manner by no meansdisheartening. Mr Medlock in turn indulged in a careful survey of theboy as he sat shyly before him trying to look self-possessed, but notman of the world enough to conceal his anxiety or excitement. 

"Let me see, " said Mr Medlock, putting his hands in his pocket andleaning against the mantel-piece, "you replied to the advertisement, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir, " said Reginald. 

"And what made you think you would suit us?"

"Well, sir, " stammered Reginald, "you wanted respectable intelligentyoung men--and--and I thought I--that is, I hoped I might answer thatdescription. "

Mr Medlock took one hand out of his pocket and stroked his chin. 

"Have you been in the printing trade long?"

"Only a few weeks, sir. "

"What were you doing before that?"

Reginald flushed. 

"I was at school, sir--at Wilderham. "

"Wilderham? Why, that's a school for gentlemen's sons. "

"My father was a gentleman, sir, " said the boy, proudly. 

"He's dead then?" said Mr Medlock. "That is sad. But did he leavenothing behind him?"

"He died suddenly, sir, " said Reginald, speaking with an effort, "andleft scarcely anything. "

"Did he die in debt? You must excuse these questions, Mr Cruden, "added the gentleman, with an amiable smile; "it is necessary to ask themor I would spare you the trouble. "

"He did die in debt, " said Reginald, "but we were able to pay off everypenny he owed. "

"And left nothing for yourself when it was done? Very honourable, mylad; it will always be a satisfaction to you. "

"It is, sir, " said Reginald, cheering up. 

"You naturally would be glad to improve your income. How much do youget where you are?"

"Eighteen shillings a week. "

Mr Medlock whistled softly. 

"Eighteen shillings; that's very little, very poor pay, " said he. "Ishould have thought, with your education, you could have got more thanthat. "

It pleased Reginald to have his education recognised in this delicateway. 

"We had to be thankful for what we could get, " said he; "there are somany fellows out of work. "

"Very true, very true, " said Mr Medlock, shaking his head impressively, "we had no less than 450 replies to our advertisement. "

Reginald gave a gasp. What chance had he among 450 competitors?

Mr Medlock took a turn or two up and down the room, meditating withhimself and keeping his eye all the time on the boy. 

"Yes, " said he, "450--a lot, isn't it? Very sad to think of it. "

"Very sad, " said Reginald, feeling called upon to say something. 

"Now, " said Mr Medlock, coming to a halt in his walk in front of theboy, "I suppose you guess I wouldn't have asked you to call here if Iand my fellow-directors hadn't been pleased with your letter. "

Reginald looked pleased and said nothing. 

"And now I've seen you and heard what you've got to say, I think you'renot a bad young fellow; but--"

Mr Medlock paused, and Reginald's face changed to one of keen anxiety. 

"I'm afraid, Mr Cruden, you're not altogether the sort we want. "

The boy's face fell sadly. 

"I would do my best, " he said, as bravely as he could, "if you'd try me. I don't know what the work is yet, but I'm ready to do anything I can. "

"Humph!" said Mr Medlock. "What we advertise for is sharp agents, tosell goods on commission among their friends. Now, do you think youcould sell £500 worth of wine and cigars and that sort of thing everyyear among your friends? You'd need to do that to make £50 a year, youknow. You understand? Could you go round to your old neighbours andcrack up our goods, and book their orders and that sort of thing? Idon't think you could, myself. It strikes me you are too much of agentleman. "

Reginald sat silent for a moment, with the colour coming and going inhis cheeks; then he looked up and said, slowly--

"I'm afraid I could not do that, sir--I didn't know you wanted that. "

So saying he took up his hat and rose to go. 

Mr Medlock watched him with a smile, if not of sympathy, at any rate ofapproval, and when he rose motioned him back to his seat. 

"Not so fast, my man; I like your spirit, and we may hit it yet. "

Reginald resumed his seat with a new interest in his anxious face. 

"You wouldn't suit us as a drummer--that is, " said Mr Medlock, hastilycorrecting himself, "as a tout--an agent; but you might suit us inanother way. We're looking out for a gentlemanly young fellow forsecretary--to superintend the concern for the directors, and be themedium of communication between them and the agents. We want aneducated young man, and one we can depend upon. As to the work, that'spicked up in a week easily. Now, suppose--suppose when I go back toLiverpool I were to recommend you for a post like that, what would yousay?"

Reginald was almost too overwhelmed for words; he could only stammer, --

"Oh, sir, how kind of you!"

"The directors would appoint any one I recommended, " continued MrMedlock, looking down with satisfaction on the boy's eagerness; "you'reyoung, of course, but you seem to be honest, that's the great thing. "

"I think I can promise that, " said Reginald, proudly. 

"The salary would begin at £150 a year, but we should improve it if youturned out well. And you would, of course, occupy the Company's houseat Liverpool. We should not ask for a premium in your case, but youwould have to put £50 into the shares of the Corporation to qualify you, and of course you would get interest on that. Now, " said he, asReginald began to speak, "don't be in a hurry. Take your time and thinkit well over. If you say `Yes, ' you may consider the thing settled, andif you say `No'--well, we shall be able to find some one else. Ah, herecomes lunch--stop and have some with me--bring another plate, waiter. "

Reginald felt too bewildered to know what to think or say. He asecretary of a company with £150 a year! It was nearly intoxicating. And for the post spontaneously offered to him in the almost flatteringway it had been--this was more gratifying still. In his wildest dreamsjust now he never pictured himself sitting down as secretary to theSelect Agency Corporation to lunch with one of its leading directors!

Mr Medlock said no more about "business", but made himself generallyagreeable, asking Reginald about his father and the old days, inquiringas to his mother and brother, and all about his friends andacquaintances in London. 

Reginald felt he could talk freely to this friend, and he did so. Heconfided to him all about Mr Durfy's tyranny, about his brother's workat the _Rocket_, and even went so far as to drop out a hint in youngGedge's favour. He told him all about Wilderham and his schoolfellowsthere, about the books he liked, about the way he spent his evenings, about Dull Street--in fact, he felt as if he had known Mr Medlock foryears and could talk to him accordingly. 

"I declare, " said that gentleman, pulling out his watch, after thispleasant talk had been going on a long time, "it's five minutes pasttwo. I'm afraid you'll be late. "

Reginald started up. 

"So I shall, I'd no idea it was so late. I'm afraid I had better go, sir. "

"Well, write me a letter to Liverpool to-morrow, or Wednesday at thelatest, as we must fill up the place soon. Think it well over. Good-bye, my man. I hope I shall see you again before long. By the way, ofcourse, you won't talk about all this out of doors. "

"Oh, no, " said Reginald, "I haven't even mentioned it yet at home. "

Mr Medlock laughed. 

"Well, if you come to Liverpool you'll have to tell them something aboutit. See, here's a list of our directors, your mother may recognise someof the names. But beyond your mother and brother don't talk about ityet, as the Corporation is only just starting. "

Reginald heartily concurred in this caution, and promised to act on it, and then after a friendly farewell hastened back to the _Rocket_ office. The clock pointed nearly a quarter past two when he entered. 

He was not the sort of fellow to slink in when no one was looking. Infact, he had such a detestation of that sort of thing that he went tothe other extreme, and marched ostentatiously past Mr Durfy's table, asthough to challenge his observation. 

If that was his intention he was not disappointed. 

"Oh, " said the overseer, with a return of the old sneer, which had beendormant ever since the night Reginald had knocked him down. "You _have_come, have you? And you know the hour, do you?"

"Yes, it's a quarter past two, " said Reginald. 

"Is it?" sneered Mr Durfy, in his most offensive way. 

"Yes, it is, " replied the boy, hotly. 

What did he care for Durfy now? To-morrow in all probability he wouldhave the satisfaction of walking up to that table and saying, "MrDurfy, I leave here on Saturday, " meanwhile he was not disposed to standany of his insolence. 

But he hardly expected what was coming next. 

"Very well, then you can just put your hat on your head and go back theway you came, sir. "

"What do you mean?" said Reginald, in startled tones. 

"Mean? what I say!" shouted Durfy. "You're dismissed, kicked out, andthe sooner you go the better. "

So this was the dignified leave-taking to which he had secretly lookedforward! Kicked out! and kicked out by Durfy! Reginald's toes tingledat the very thought. 

"You've no right to dismiss me for being a few minutes late, " said he. 

It was Durfy's turn now to be dignified. He went on writing, and didhis best to affect oblivion of his enemy's presence. 

Reginald, too indignant to know the folly of such an outburst, brokeout, --

"I shall not take my dismissal from you. I shall stay here as long as Ichoose, and when I go I'll go of my own accord, you cad, you--"

Mr Durfy still went on writing with a cheerful smile on hiscountenance. 

"Do you hear?" said Reginald, almost shouting the words. "I'm not goingto please you. I shall go to please myself. I give _you_ notice, andthank Heaven I've done with you. "

Durfy looked up with a laugh. 

"Go and make that noise outside, " he said. "We can do without you here. Gedge, my man, put those cases beside you back into the rack, and goand tell the porter he's wanted. "

The mention of Gedge's name cowed Reginald in an instant, and in thesudden revulsion of feeling which ensued he was glad enough to escapefrom the room before fairly breaking down under a crushing sense ofinjury, mortification, and helplessness. Gedge was at the door as hewent out. 

"Oh, Cruden, " he whispered, "what will become of me now? Wait for meoutside at seven o'clock; please do. "

That afternoon Reginald paced the streets more like a hunted beast thana human being. All the bad side of his nature--his pride, his conceit, his selfishness--was stirred within him under a bitter sense of shameand indignity. He forgot how much his own intractable temper and stupidself-importance had contributed to his fall, and could think of nothingbut Durfy's triumph and the evil fate which at the very moment, when hewas able to snap his fingers in the tyrant's face, had driven him forthin disgrace with the tyrant's fingers snapped in his face. He had notspirit or resolution enough to wait to see Gedge or any one thatevening, but slunk away, hating the sight of everybody, and wishing onlyhe could lose himself and forget that such a wretch as Reginald Crudenexisted. 

Ah! Reginald. It's a long race to escape from oneself. Men have triedit before now with better reason than you, and failed. Wait till youhave something worse to run from, my honest, foolish friend. Face roundlike a man, and stand up to your pursuer. You have hit out straightfrom the shoulder before to-day. Do it again now. One smart round willfinish the business, for this false Reginald is a poor creature afterall, and you can knock him out of time and over the ropes with one handif you like. Try it, and save your running powers for an uglier foemansome other day!

Reginald did fight it out with himself as he walked mile after mile thatafternoon through the London streets, and by the time he reached home inthe evening he was himself again. 

He met his mother's tears and Horace's dismal looks with a smile oftriumph. 

"So you've heard all about it, have you?" said he. 

"Oh, Reginald, " said his mother, in deep distress, "how grieved I am foryou!"

"You needn't be, mother, " said Reginald, "for I've got another situationfar better and worth three times as much. "

And then he told them, as far as he felt justified in doing so, of theadvertisement and what it had led to, finishing up with a glowingdescription of Mr Medlock, whom he only regretted he had not had thecourage to ask up to tea that very evening. 

But there was a cloud on the bright horizon which his mother and Horacewere quicker to observe than he. 

"But, Reg, " said the latter, "surely it means you'd have to go toLiverpool?"

"Yes; I'm afraid it does. That's the one drawback. "

"But surely you won't accept it, then?" said the younger brother. 

Reginald looked up. Horace's tone, if not imperious, had not beensympathetic, and it jarred on him in the fulness of his projects toencounter an obstacle. 

"Why not?" he replied. "It's all very well for you, in your snug berth, but I must get a living, mustn't I?"

"I should have thought something might turn up in London, " persistedHorace. 

"Things don't turn up as we want them, " said Reginald, tartly. "Lookhere, Horace, you surely don't suppose I prefer to go to Liverpool tostaying here?"

"Of course not, " said Horace, beginning to whistle softly to himself. It was a bad omen, and Mrs Cruden knew it. 

"Come, " said she, cheerily, "we must make the best of it. These names, Reg, in the list of directors Mr Medlock gave you, seem all veryrespectable. "

"Do you know any of them?" asked Reginald. "Mr Medlock thought youmight. "

"I know one or two by name, " replied she. "There's the Bishop of S--, Isee, and Major Wakeman, who I suppose is the officer who has been doingso well in India. There's a Member of Parliament, too, I see. It seemsa good set of directors. "

"Of course they aren't likely all to turn up at board meetings, " saidReginald, with an explanatory air. 

"I don't see myself what business a bishop has with a Select AgencyCorporation, " said Horace, determined not to see matters in a favourablelight. 

"My dear fellow, " said Reginald, trying hard to keep his temper, "Ican't help whether you see it or not. By the way, mother, about the £50to invest. I think Mr Richmond--"

Mrs Cruden started. 

"This exciting news, " said she, "drove it out of my head for the moment. Boys, I am very sorry to say I had a note to-day stating that MrRichmond was taken ill while in France, and is dead. He was one of ourfew old friends, and it is a very sad blow. "

She was right. The Crudens never stood in greater need of a wise friendthan they did now. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

REGINALD TAKES HIS FATE INTO HIS OWN HANDS. 

The next day Reginald wrote and accepted the invitation of the directorsof the Select Agency Corporation. He flattered himself he was actingdeliberately, and after fully weighing the pros and cons of thequestion. True, he still knew very little about his new duties, and hadyet to make the acquaintance of the Bishop of S-- and the otherdirectors. But, on the other hand, he had seen Mr Medlock, and heardwhat he had to say, and was quite satisfied in his own mind thateverything was all right. And, greatest argument of all, he had noother place to go to, and £150 a year was a salary not to be thrown awaywhen put into one's hands. 

Still, he felt a trifle uncomfortable about the necessity of going toLiverpool and breaking up the old home. Of course, he could not helphimself, and Horace had no right to insinuate otherwise. All the same, it was a pity, and if there had not been the compensating certainty ofbeing able to send up regular contributions to the family purse, whichwould help his mother to not a few comforts hitherto denied, he wouldhave been more troubled still about it. 

"What will you do about the £50?" said Horace next day, forcing himselfto appear interested in what he inwardly disapproved. 

"Oh, " said Reginald, "I'd intended to ask Richmond to lend it me. It'snot exactly a loan either; it would be the same as his investing in thecompany in my name. The money would be safe, and he'd get his interestinto the bargain. But of course I can't go to him now. "

"No; and I don't know whom else you could ask, " said Horace. 

"They might let me put in a pound a week out of my salary, " saidReginald. "That would still leave me two pounds a week, and of that Icould send home at least twenty-five shillings. "

Horace mused. 

"It seems to me rather queer to expect you to put the money in, " saidhe. 

"It may be queer, but it's their rule, Mr Medlock says. "

"And whatever does the Corporation do? It's precious hazy to my mind. "

"I can't tell you anything about it now, " said Reginald; "the concern isonly just started, and I have promised to treat all Mr Medlock told meas confidential. But I'm quite satisfied in my mind, and you may betoo, Horace. "

Horace did not feel encouraged to pursue the discussion after this, andwent off alone to work in low spirits, and feeling unusually dismal. 

"By the way, " said Reginald, as he started, "bring young Gedge home withyou. I meant to see him last night, but forgot. "

Reginald spent the day uneasily for himself and his mother in trying tofeel absolutely satisfied with the decision he had come to, and inspeculating on his future work. Towards afternoon, weary of being allday in the house, he went out for a stroll. It was a beautiful day, andthe prospect of a walk in the park by daylight was a tempting one. 

As he was passing down Piccadilly, he became aware of some oneapproaching him whom he knew, and whom, in another moment, he recognisedas Blandford. 

There was some excuse certainly for not taking in his old schoolfellow'sidentity all at once, for the boy he had known at Wilderham only a fewmonths ago had suddenly blossomed forth into a man, and had exchangedthe airy bearing of a school-boy for the half-languid swagger of a manabout town. 

"Hullo, Bland, old man!" exclaimed Reginald, lighting up jubilantly atthe sight of an old familiar face, "how are you? Who would have thoughtof seeing you?"

Blandford was surprised too, and for a moment critically surveyed theboy in front of him before he replied. 

"Ah, Cruden, that you? I shouldn't have known you. "

Reginald's face fell. He became suddenly aware, and for the first timein his life, that his clothes were shabby, and that his boots were inholes. 

"I shouldn't have known you, " he replied; "you look so much older thanwhen I saw you last. "

"So I am; but, I say, " added Bland, reddening as an acquaintance passedand nodded to him, "I'm rather in a hurry, Cruden, just now. If you'renot engaged this evening, come and dine with me at seven at the Shades, and we can have a talk. Good-bye. "

And he went on hurriedly, leaving Reginald with an uncomfortablesuspicion that if he--Reginald--had been more smartly dressed, and hadworn gloves and a tall hat, the interview would have been more cordialand less hasty. 

However, the longing he felt for the old happy days that were pastdecided him to appear at the Shades at the hour appointed, although itmeant absence from home on one of his few remaining evenings, and, stillmore, a further desertion of young Gedge. 

He repented of his resolution almost as soon as he had made it. Whatwas to be gained by assuming a false position for an evening, and tryingto delude himself into the notion that he was the equal of his oldcomrade? Did not his clothes, his empty pockets, the smart of Durfy'stongue, and even the letter now on its way to Mr Medlock, all disproveit? And yet, three months ago, he was a better man all round thanBlandford, who had been glad to claim his friendship and accept hisfather's hospitality. Reginald rebelled against the idea that they twocould still be anything to one another than the friends they had oncebeen; but all the while the old school saw came back into his mind--thatimposition sentence he had in his day written out hundreds of timeswithout once thinking of its meaning: _Tempora mutantur et nos mutamurin illis_. 

He reached the Shades a few minutes before seven, and waited outsidetill his friend arrived. He had not to wait long, for Blandford and acouple of companions drove up punctually in a hansom--all of them, toReginald's horror, being arrayed in full evening dress. 

"Hullo, Cruden, you've turned up then, " said Blandford. "What, not inregimentals? You usen't to be backward in that way. Never mind; theysay dress after seven o'clock here, but they're not strict. We cansmuggle you in. "

Oh, how Reginald wished he was safe back in Dull Street!

"By the way, " continued Blandford, "these are two friends of mine, Cruden--Mr Shanklin and Mr Pillans. Cruden's an old Wilderham fellow, you know, " he added, in an explanatory aside. 

The gentleman introduced as Mr Shanklin stared curiously at Reginaldfor a few seconds, and then shook hands. Had the boy known as much ofthat gentleman as the reader does, he would probably have displayedconsiderably more interest in his new acquaintance than he did. As itwas, he would have been glad of an excuse to avoid shaking hands witheither him or his empty-headed companion, Mr Pillans. He went throughthe ceremony as stiffly as possible, and then followed the party within. 

"Now, then, " said Blandford, as they sat down at one of the tables, "what do you say? It'll save trouble to take the table d'hote, eh? areyou game, you fellows? Table d'hote for four, waiter. What shall wehave to drink? I say hock to start with. "

"I wont take any wine, " said Reginald, with an effort. 

"Why not? You're not a teetotaler, are you?"

"I won't take any wine, " repeated Reginald decisively; and, to hissatisfaction, he was allowed to do as he pleased. 

The dinner passed as such entertainments usually do, diminishing ininterest as it went on. In his happiest days, Reginald always hatedwhat the boys used to call "feeds, " and he found that three months'altered circumstances had by no means reconciled him to the infliction. He shirked the last two or three courses, and grew heartily tired of thesight of a plate. 

"You wondered how I came to be in town?" said Blandford. "The fact is, my uncle went off the hooks a few weeks ago, and as I'm his heir, youknow, I came up, and haven't gone back yet. I don't think I shalleither. "

"No; what's the use, with the pot of money you've come in for?" said MrShanklin. "You're far more comfortable up in town. "

"Yes, and _you're_ a nice boy to show a fellow about town, " saidBlandford, laughing, "Wilderham's all very well, you know, Cruden, "continued he, "but it's a grind being cooped up there when you've gotyour chance of a fling. "

"Well, you've not wasted your chances, my boy, " said Mr Pillans, who, besides being empty-headed, was unhealthy in complexion, and red aboutthe eyes. 

Blandford appeared rather flattered than otherwise by this observation, and told Mr Pillans to shut up and not tell tales out of school. 

"I suppose Wilderham hasn't changed much since last term?" askedReginald wistfully. 

"Oh no; plenty of fellows left and new ones come--rather a better lot, take them all round, than we had last term. "

"Has the football club been doing well again?" asked the old boy. 

"Oh, middling. By the way, the fellows growled rather when you onlysent them half-a-sov. Instead of a sov. "

Reginald coloured up. Little his comrade knew what that half-sovereignhad cost him!

He relapsed into silence, and had to derive what compensation he couldfrom the fast talk in which the other three engaged, apparently heedlessof his presence. 

In due time the meal ended, and Blandford called for the bills. 

Until that moment Reginald had never imagined for a moment but that hehad been dining as his old schoolfellow's guest. He had understoodBlandford's request of his company as an invitation, and as aninvitation he had accepted it, and as an invitation he had repented ofit. What, then, was his embarrassment to find a bill for six shillingsand sixpence laid down before him as his share of the entertainment!

For a moment a flush of relief passed across his face. He was glad notto find himself under obligations to Blandford after all. But inanother moment relief was changed to horror as he remembered that threeshillings was all the money he had about him. Oh, the humiliation, theanguish of this discovery! He would have had anything happen ratherthan this. 

He sat staring at the bill like a being petrified. 

"Come along, " said Blandford, "let's go to the smoking-room. I supposeyou fellows will have coffee there. Coffee for four, waiter. Are youready?"

But Reginald did not move, nor did the waiter. 

"What's the row?" said Blandford to the latter. 

The waiter pointed to Reginald's bill. 

"Oh, he's waiting for your bill, Cruden. Look sharp, old man!"

The colour came and went in Reginald's face, as though he had beencharged with some hideous crime. And it seemed like a deliberatemockery of his trouble that his three companions and the waiter stoodsilent at the table, eyeing him, and waiting for his answer. 

"I'm sorry, " he said at length, bringing up the words with a tremendouseffort, "I find I've not money enough to pay it. I made a mistake incoming here. "

All four listeners stood with faces of mingled amazement and amusementat the boy's agitation and the tragic manner in which he accounted forit. Any one else would have carried it off with a jest; but to Reginaldit was like passing through the fire. 

"Would you mind--may I trouble you--that is, will you lend me three-and-sixpence, Blandford?" he said at last. 

Blandford burst out laughing. 

"I thought at least you'd swallowed a silver spoon!" said he. "Here, waiter, I'll settle that bill. How much is it?"

"No, " said Reginald, laying down his three shillings; "if you can lendme three-and-sixpence, that's all I want. "

"Bosh!" said Blandford, pitching half a sovereign to the waiter; "takeit out of that, and this coffee too, and come along into the smoking-room, you fellows. "

Reginald would fain have escaped; but the horrid dread of beingsuspected of caring more about his dinner than his company deterred him, and he followed dejectedly to the luxurious smoking-room of the Shades. 

He positively refused to touch the coffee or the cigar, even thoughBlandford took care to remind him they had been paid for. Nor, exceptwhen spoken to, could he bring himself to open his lips or take part inthe general talk. 

Blandford, however, who, ever since the incident of the bill, seemed toconsider himself entitled to play a patronising part towards hisschoolfellow, continued to keep him from lapsing into obscurity. 

"Where's your brother living?" he asked presently. 

"He's in town, too, " said Reginald. "My mother and he and I livetogether. "

"Where? I'd like to call on your mother. "

"We live in Dull Street, " said Reginald, beginning in sheer desperationto pluck up heart and hang out no more false colours. 

"Dull Street? That's rather a shady locality, isn't it?" said MrPillans. 

Reginald rounded on him. Blandford might have a right to catechise him;but what business was it of this numbskull's where he lived?

"You're not obliged to go there, " he said, with a curl of his lip, "unless you like. "

Mr Shanklin smiled at this sally, a demonstration which considerablyincensed the not too amiable Mr Pillans. 

"I'll take precious care I don't, " said the latter. 

Reginald said "Thanks!" drily, and in a way so cutting that Mr Shanklinand Blandford both laughed this time. 

"Look here, " said the unwholesome Pillans, looking very warm, "what doyou say that for? Do you want to cheek me?"

"Don't be a fool, Pillans. It doesn't matter to you where he lives, "said Blandford. 

"Thank goodness it don't--or whether he pays his rent either. "

"It's a pity you had to leave Garden Vale, " said Blandford, apparentlyanxious to turn the conversation into a more pacific channel; "such ajolly place it was. What do you do with yourself all day long in town?"

Reginald smiled. 

"I work for my living, " said he, keeping his eye steadily fixed on MrPillans, as if waiting to catch the first sign of an insult on his part. 

"That's what we all do, more or less, " said Mr Shanklin. "Blandfordhere works like a nigger to spend his money, don't you, old man?"

"I do so, " said Blandford, "with your valuable assistance. "

"And with somebody else's assistance too, " said Mr Pillans, with ashrug in the direction of Reginald. 

Reginald understood the taunt, and rose to his feet. 

"You're not going?" said Blandford. 

"I am. I don't forget I owe you for my dinner, Blandford; and I shan'tforget that I owe you also for introducing me to a blackguard. Good-night. "

And without allowing his hearers time to recover from the astonishmentinto which these words had thrown them, he marched out of the Shadeswith his head in the air. 

It was a minute before any of the three disconcerted companions couldrecover the gift of speech. At last Mr Shanklin burst out into alaugh. 

"Capital, that was, " he said; "there's something in the fellow. And, "he added internally, and not in the hearing of either of his companions, "if he's the same fellow Medlock has hooked, our fortune's made. "

"All very well, " said Pillans; "but he called me a blackguard. "

This simple discovery caused still greater merriment at the expense ofthe outraged owner of the appellation. 

"I've a good mind to go after him, and pull his nose, " growled he. 

"Nothing would please him better, " said Blandford. "But you'd betterleave your own nose behind, my boy, before you start, or there won't bemuch of it left. I know Cruden of old. "

"You won't see much more of him now, " sneered Pillans, "now he owes youfor his dinner. "

"It strikes me, Bland was never safer of a six-and-six in his life thanhe is of the one he lent to-night, " said Mr Shanklin. "Unless I'mmistaken, the fellow would walk across England on his bare feet to payit back. "

Mr Shanklin, it was evident, could appreciate honesty in any one else. He was highly delighted with what he had seen of the new secretary. Ifanything could float the Select Agency Corporation, the lad'sunsuspicious honesty would do it. In fact, things were looking up allround for the precious confederates. With Reginald to supply them withhonesty, with easy-going spendthrifts, like Blandford and Pillans, tosupply them with money, and with a cad like Durfy to do their dirty workfor them, they were in as comfortable and hopeful a way as the promotersof such an enterprise could reasonably hope to be. 

The trio at the Shades soon forgot Reginald in the delights of oneanother's sweet society. They played billiards, at which Mr Shanklinwon. They also played cards, at which, by a singular coincidence, MrShanklin won too. They then went to call on a friend who knew the"straight tip" for the Saint Leger, and under his advice they laid out agood deal of money, which (such are the freaks of fortune) also foundits way somehow into Mr Shanklin's pocket-book. Finally, they suppedtogether, and then went home to bed, each one under the delusion that hehad spent a very pleasant evening. 

Reginald was far from sharing the same opinion as he paced home thatevening. How glad he should be to be out of this hateful London, whereeverything went wrong, and reminded him that he was a pauper, dependenton others for his living, for his clothes, for his--faugh! for hisdinner! Happily he had not to endure it much longer. At Liverpool, hewould be independent. He would hold a position not degrading to agentleman; he would associate with men of intellect and breeding; hewould even have the joy of helping his mother to many a little luxurywhich, as long as he remained in London, he could never have given her. He quickened his pace, and reached home. Gedge had been there, spiritless and forlorn, and had left as soon as he could excuse himself. 

"Out of sight, out of mind, " he had said, with a forced laugh, to Horacewhen the latter expressed his regret at Reginald's absence. 

Mrs Cruden and Horace both tried to look cheerful; but the cloud on thehorizon was too large now to be covered with a hand. 

When Reginald announced that he had written and accepted the invitationto Liverpool, there was no jubilation, no eager congratulation. 

"What shall we do without you?" said Mrs Cruden. 

"It is horrid having to go, mother, " said the boy; "but we must make thebest of it. If you look so unhappy, I shall be sorry I ever thought ofit. "

His mother tried to smile, and said, --

"Yes, we must try and make the best of it, dear boys; and if we cannotseem as glad as we should like to be, it's not to be wondered at atfirst, is it?"

"I hope you'll get holidays enough now and then to run up, " said Horace. 

"Oh yes; I don't fancy there'll be much difficulty about that, " repliedReg. "In fact, it's possible I may have to come up now and then onbusiness. "

There was a silence for a few seconds, and then he added rathernervously, --

"By the way, mother, about the £50. I had intended to ask Mr Richmondto advance it, although I should have hated to do so. But now, I waswondering--do you think there would be any objection to taking it out ofour money, and letting it be invested in my name in the Corporation? Itreally wouldn't make any difference, for you'd get exactly the sameinterest for it as you got through Mr Richmond; and, of course, theprincipal would belong to you too. "

"I see no objection, " said Mrs Cruden. "It's our common stock, and ifwe can use it for the common good, so much the better. "

"Thanks, " said Reginald. "If you wouldn't mind sending a line to MrRichmond's clerk to-morrow, he could let me have the cheque to take downor Monday with me. "

The three days that followed were dismal ones for the three Crudens. There are few miseries like that of an impending separation. We wishthe fatal moment to arrive and end our suspense. We know of a thousandthings we want to say, but the time slips by wasted, and hangs drearilyon our hands. We have not the spirit to look forward, or the heart tolook back. We long to have it all over, and yet every stroke of theclock falls like a cruel knell on our ears. We long that we could fallasleep, and wake to find ourselves on the other side of the crisis wedread. 

So it was with the Crudens; and when at last the little trio stood onthe Monday on the platform of Euston Station, all three felt that theywould give anything to have the last few days back again. 

"I'll write, mother, as often as ever I can, " said Reginald, trying tospeak as if the words did not stick in his throat. 

"Tell us all about your quarters, and what you have to do, and allthat, " said Horace. 

Mrs Cruden had no words. She stood with her eyes fixed on her boy, andfelt she needed all her courage to do that steadily. 

"Horrors, " said Reg, as the guard locked the carriage door, and theusual silence which precedes the blowing of the whistle ensued, "keepyour eye on young Gedge, will you? there's a good fellow. "

"I will, and I'll--"

But here the whistle sounded, and amid the farewells that followed, Reginald went out into his new world, leaving them behind, strainingtheir eyes for a last look, but little dreaming how and when that littlefamily should meet again. 

CHAPTER TWELVE. 

HORACE LEARNS AN ART, PAYS A BILL, AND LENDS A HELPING HAND. 

"I say, Cruden, " said Waterford to Horace one morning, shortly afterReginald's departure from London, "I shall get jealous if you don't pullup. "

"Jealous of me?" said Horace. "Whatever for?"

"Why, before you came I flattered myself I was a bit of a dab at thescissors-and-paste business, but you've gone and cut me out completely. "

"What rot!" said Horace, laughing. "There's more than enough cuttingout to do with the morning papers to leave any time for operating onyou. Besides, any duffer can do work like that. "

"That's all very well, " said Waterford. "There's only one duffer herethat can do as much as me and Booms put together, and that's you. Now, if you weren't such a racehorse, I'd propose to you to join ourshorthand class. You'll have to learn it some time or other, you know. "

"The very thing I'd like, " said Horace. "That is, " he added, "if itwon't take up all a fellow's evenings. How often are the classes?"

"Well, as often as we like. Generally once a week. Booms'swasherwoman--"

"Whatever has she to do with shorthand?" asked Horace. 

"More than you think, my boy. She always takes eight days to wash hiscollars and cuffs. He sends them to her on Wednesdays, and gets themback on the next day week, so that we always practise shorthand on theWednesday evening. Don't we, Booms?" he inquired, as the proud owner ofthat name entered the office at that moment. 

"There you are, " sighed he. "How do I know what you are talking about?"

"I was saying we always worked up our shorthand on Wednesday evenings. "

"If you say so, " said the melancholy one, "it must be so. "

"I was telling Cruden he might join us this winter. "

"Very well, " said the other, resignedly; "but where are you going tomeet? Mrs Megson has gone away, and we've no reader. "

"Bother you, Booms, for always spotting difficulties in a thing. Yousee, " added he, to Horace, "we used to meet at a good lady's house whokept a day school. She let us go there one evening a week, and readaloud to us, for us to take it down in shorthand. She's gone now, badluck to her, and the worst of it is we're bound to get a lady to take usin, as we've got ladies in our class, you see. "

At the mention of ladies Booms groaned deeply. 

"Why, I tell you what, " said Horace, struck by a brilliant idea. "Whatshould you say to my mother? I think she would be delighted; and if youwant a good reader aloud, she's the very woman for you. "

Waterford clapped his friend enthusiastically on the back. 

"You're a trump, Cruden, to lend us your mother; isn't he, Booms?"

"Oh yes, " said Booms. "I've seen her, and--" here he appeared toundergo a mental struggle--"I like her. "

"At any rate, I'll sound her on the matter. By the way, she'll want toknow who the ladies are. "

"It'll only be one this winter, I'm afraid, " said Waterford, "as theMegsons have gone. It's a Miss Crisp, Cruden, a friend of Booms's, who--"

"Whom I met the other night at the Shucklefords'?" said Horace. 

Booms answered the question with such an agonised sigh that both hiscompanions burst out laughing. 

"Dear old Booms can tell you more about her than I can, " said Waterford. "All I know is she's a very nice girl indeed. "

"I agree with you, " said Horace; "I'm sure she is. You think so too, don't you, Booms?"

"You don't know what I think, " said Booms; which was very true. 

One difficulty still remained, and this appeared to trouble Horaceconsiderably. 

He did not like to refer to it as long as the melancholy masher waspresent, but as soon as he had gone in to fetch the papers, Horaceinquired of his friend, --

"I say, Waterford, do you mean to say he chooses the very night hehasn't got a high collar to--"

"Hush!" cried Waterford, mysteriously, "it's a sore question with him;but _he couldn't write if he had one_. We never mention it, though. "

It is needless to say Mrs Cruden fell in most cordially with the newproposal. She needed little persuasion to induce her to agree to a planwhich meant the bright presence of her son and his friends in her house, and it gave her special satisfaction to find her services on suchoccasions not only invited, but indispensable; and it is doubtfulwhether any of the party looked forward more eagerly to the cheeryWednesday evenings than she did. 

It was up-hill work, of course, for Horace, at first; in fact, duringthe first evening he could do nothing but sit and admire the pace atwhich Miss Crisp, followed more haltingly by Booms and Waterford, tookdown the words of _Ivanhoe_ as fast as Mrs Cruden read them. But, bydint of hard, unsparing practice, he was able, a week later, to makesome sort of a show, and as the lessons went on he even had the delightof finding himself, as Waterford said, `in the running' with his fellow-scholars. This success was not achieved without considerabledetermination on the boy's part; but Horace, when he did take a thingup, went through with it. He gave himself no relaxation for the firstweek or two. Every evening after supper he produced his pencil andpaper, and his mother produced her book, and for two steady hours thework went on. Even at the office, in the intervals of work, he reportedeverything his ears could catch, not excepting the melancholy utterancesof Booms and the vulgar conversation of the errand-boy. 

One day the sub-editor summoned him to the inner room to give him someinstructions as to a letter to be written, when the boy much astonishedhis chief by taking a note of every word, and producing the letter in afew moments in the identical language in which it had been dictated. 

"You know shorthand, then?" inquired the mild sub-editor. 

"Yes, sir, a little. "

"I did not know of this before. "

"No, sir; I only began lately. Booms and Waterford and I are allworking it up. "

The sub-editor said nothing just then, but in future availed himselffreely of the new talent of his juniors. And what was still moresatisfactory, it was intimated not many days later to Horace fromheadquarters, that as he appeared to be making himself generally useful, the nominal wages at which he had been admitted would be increasedhenceforth to twenty-four shillings a week. 

This piece of good fortune was most opportune; for now that Reginald'sweekly contribution was withdrawn, and pending the payment of his firstquarter's salary at Christmas, the family means had been sorely reduced, and Horace and his mother had been hard put to it to make both endsmeet. Even with this augmented pay it might still have been beyondaccomplishment had not their income been still further improved in amanner which Horace little suspected, and which, had he known, wouldhave sorely distressed him. 

Mrs Cruden, between whom and the bright Miss Crisp a pleasantfriendship had sprung up, had, almost the first time the two ladiesfound themselves together, inquired of her new acquaintance as to thepossibility of finding any light employment for herself during the hourswhen she was alone. Miss Crisp, as it happened, did know of some work, though hardly to be called light work, which she herself, having just atpresent other duties on hand, had been obliged to decline. This was thetranscribing of the manuscript of a novel, written by a lady, in ahandwriting so enigmatical that the publishers would not look at itunless presented in a legible form. The lady was, therefore, anxious toget it copied out, and had offered Miss Crisp a small sum for theservice. Mrs Cruden clutched eagerly at the opportunity thuspresented. The work was laborious and dreary in the extreme, for thestory was long and insipid, and the wretched handwriting danced underher eyes till they ached and grew weak. But she persevered boldly, andfor three hours a day pored over her self-imposed task. When Horacereturned at evening no trace of it was to be seen, only the pale faceand weary eyes of his mother, who yet was ready with a smile to readaloud as long as the boy wished, and pretend that she only enjoyed alabour which was really taxing her both in health and eyesight. 

Reginald had written home once or twice since his departure, but none ofhis letters had contained much news. He said very little either abouthis work or his employers, but from the dismal tone in which he drewcomparisons between London and Liverpool, and between his presentloneliness and days before their separation, it was evident enough hewas homesick. In a letter to Horace he said, --

"I get precious little time just now for anything but work, and what Ido get I don't know a soul here to spend it with. There's a footballclub here, but of course I can't join it. I go walks occasionally, though I can't get far, as I cannot be away from here for long at atime, and never of an evening. You might send me a _Rocket_ now andthen, or something to read. What about young Gedge? See Durfy doesn'tget hold of him. Could you ever scrape up six-and-six, and pay it forme to Blandford, whose address I give below? It's something he lent mefor a particular purpose when I last saw him. Do try. I would encloseit, but till Christmas I have scarcely enough to keep myself. I wishthey would pay weekly instead of quarterly. I would be awfully obligedif you would manage to pay the six-and-six somehow or other. If you do, see he gets it, and knows it comes from me, and send me a line to say hehas got it. Don't forget, there's a brick. Love to mother and youngGedge. I wish I could see you all this minute. "

Horace felt decidedly blue after receiving this letter, and purposelywithheld it from his mother. Had he been sure Reginald was prosperousand happy in his new work, this separation would not have mattered somuch, but all along he had had his doubts on both these points, and theletter only confirmed them. 

At any rate he determined to lose no time in easing his brother's mindof the two chief causes of his anxiety. The very next Saturday heappropriated six-and-six of his slender wages, and devoted the eveningto finding out Blandford's rooms, and paying him the money. 

Fortunately his man was at home, an unusual circumstance at that hour ofthe night, and due solely to the fact that he and Pillans, his fellow-lodger, were expecting company; indeed, the page-boy (for our two gaysparks maintained a "tiger" between them) showed Horace up the moment hearrived, under the delusion that he was one of the guests. Blandfordand his friend, sitting in state to receive their distinguishedvisitors, among whom were to be the real owner of a racehorse, a realjockey, a real actor, and a real wine-merchant, these open-hearted andknowing young men were considerably taken aback to find a boy ofHorace's age and toilet ushered into their august presence. Blandfordwould have preferred to appear ignorant of the identity of the intruder, but Horace left him no room for that amiable fraud. 

"Hullo, Bland!" said he, just as if he had seen him only yesterday atWilderham, "what a jolly lot of stairs you keep in this place. Ithought I should never smoke you out. How are you, old man?"

And before the horrified dandy could recover from his surprise, he foundhis hand being warmly shaken by his old schoolfellow. 

Horace, sublimely unconscious of the impression he was creating, indulged in a critical survey of the apartment, and said, --

"Snug little crib you've got--not quite so jolly, though, as the oldstudy you and Reg had at Wilderham. How's Harker, by the way?"

And he proceeded to stroll across the room to look at a picture. 

Blandford and Pillans exchanged glances. Wrath was in the face of theone, bewilderment in the face of the other. 

"Who's your friend?" whispered the latter. 

"An old schoolfellow who--"

"Nice lot of fellows you seem to have been brought up with, upon myword, " said Mr Pillans. 

"I suppose he'll be up for Christmas, " pursued Horace. "Jolly glad Ishall be to see him, too. I say, why don't you come and look us up?The _mater_ would be awfully glad, though we've not very showy quartersto ask you to. Ah! that's one of the prints you had in the study atschool. Do you remember Reg chipping that corner of the frame with asinglestick?"

"Excuse me, Cruden, " began Blandford, in a severe tone; "my friend and Iare just expecting company. "

"Are you? Well, I couldn't have stayed if you'd asked me. Are any ofthe old school lot coming?"

"The fact is, we can do without you, young fellow, " said Mr Pillans. 

Horace stared. It had not occurred to him till that moment that his oldschoolfellow could be anything but glad to see him, and he didn'tbelieve it now. 

"Will Harker be coming?" he inquired, ignoring Mr Pillans' presence. 

"No, no one you know is coming, " said Blandford, half angrily, halfnervously. 

"That's a pity. I'd have liked to see some of the old lot. Ever sincewe came to grief none of them has been near us except Harker. He calledone day, like a brick, but he won't be up again till Christmas. "

"Good-night, " said Blandford. 

His tone was quite lost on Horace. 

"Good-night, old man. By the way, Reg--you know he's up in the Northnow--asked me to pay you six-and-six he owed you. He said you'd knowabout it. Is it all right?"

Blandford coloured up violently. 

"I'm not going to take it. I told him so, " said he. "Oh yes, you are, you old humbug, " said Horace, "so catch hold. A debt's a debt, youknow. "

"It's not a debt, " said Blandford. "I gave it to him, so good-night. "

"No, that won't do, " said Horace. "He doesn't think so--"

"The fact is, the beggar couldn't pay for his own dinner, and Blandfordhad to pay it for him. He managed it very neatly, " said Mr Pillans. 

Horace fired up fiercely. 

"What do you mean? Who's this cad you keep about the place, Blandford?"

"If you don't go I'll kick you down the stairs!" cried Mr Pillans, bythis time in a rage. 

Horace laughed. Mr Pillans was his senior in years and his superior ininches, but there was nothing in his unhealthy face to dismay the sturdyschool-boy. 

"Do you want me to try?" shouted Mr Pillans. 

"Not unless you like, " replied Horace, putting the money down on thetable and holding out his hand to Blandford. 

The latter took it mechanically, too glad to see his visitor departingto offer any obstacle. 

"I'll look you up again some day, " said Horace, "when your bulldog hereis chained up. When Reg and Harker are up this Christmas, we must allget a day together. Good-night. "

And he made for the door, brushing up against the outraged Mr Pillanson his way. 

"Take that for an impudent young beggar!" said the latter as he passed, suiting the action to the word with a smart cuff directed at thevisitor's head. 

Horace, however, was quick enough to ward it off. 

"I thought you'd try that on, " he said, with a laugh; "you're--"

But Mr Pillans, who had by this time worked himself into a fury by amethod known only to himself, cut short further parley by making adesperate rush at him just as he reached the door. 

The wary Horace had not played football for three seasons for nothing. He quietly ducked, allowing his unscientific assailant to overbalancehimself, and topple head first on the lobby outside, at the particularmoment when the real owner of the racehorse and the real wine-merchant, who had just arrived, reached the top of the stairs. 

"Hullo, young fellow!" said the sporting gentleman; "practisingcroppers, are you? or getting up an appetite? or what? High old timesyou're having up here among you! Who's the kid?"

"Stop him!" gasped Pillans, picking himself up; "don't let him go! holdhim fast!"

The wine-merchant obligingly took possession of Horace by the collar, and the company returned in solemn procession to the room. 

"Now, then, " said Horace's captor, "what's the row? Let's hear allabout it. Has he been collaring any of your spoons? or setting thehouse on fire? or what? Who is he?"

"He's cheeked me!" said Pillans, brushing the dust off his coat. "Holdhim fast, will you? till I take it out of him. "

But the horse-racer was far too much of a sportsman for that. 

"No, no, " said he, laughing; "make a mill of it and I'm your man. I'llbet two to one on the young 'un to start with. "

The wine-merchant said he would go double that on Pillans, whereupon thesporting man offered a five-pound note against a half-sovereign on hisman, and called out to have the room cleared and a sponge brought in. 

How far his scientific enthusiasm would have been rewarded it is hard tosay, for Blandford at this juncture most inconsiderately interposed. 

"No, no, " said he, "I'm not going to have the place made a cock-pit. Shut up, Pillans, and don't make an ass of yourself; and you, Cruden, cut off. What did you ever come here for? See what a row you've made. "

"It wasn't I made the row, " said Horace. "I'm awfully sorry, Bland. I'd advise you to cut that friend of yours, I say. He's an idiot. Good-bye. "

And while the horse-racer and the wine-merchant were still discussingpreliminaries, and Mr Pillans was privately ascertaining whether hisnose was bleeding, Horace departed in peace, partly amused, partlyvexed, and decidedly of opinion that Blandford had taken to keeping veryqueer company since he last saw him. 

The great thing was that Horace could now write and report to Reg thatthe debt had been paid. 

His way home led him past the _Rocket_ office. It was half-past ten, and the place looked dark and deserted. Even the lights in the editor'swindows were out, and the late hands had gone home. Just at the cornerHorace encountered Gedge, one of the late hands in question. 

"Hullo, young 'un!" he said. "Going home?"

"Yes, I'm going home, " said young Gedge. 

"I heard from my brother yesterday. He was asking after you. "

"Was he?" said the boy half-sarcastically. "He does remember my name, then?"

"Whatever do you mean? Of course he does, " said Horace. "You know thatwell enough. "

"I shouldn't have known it unless you'd told me, " said Gedge, with acloud on his face; "he's never sent me a word since he left. "

"He's been awfully busy--he's scarcely had time to write home. I say, young 'un, what's the row with you? What makes you so queer?"

"Oh, I don't know, " said the boy wearily; "I used to fancy somebodycared for me, but I was mistaken. I was going to the dogs fast enoughwhen Cruden came here; I pulled up then, because I thought he'd stand byme; but now he's gone and forgotten all about me. I'll--well, there'snothing to prevent me going to the bad; and I may as well make up mymind to it. "

"No, no, " said Horace, taking his arm kindly; "you mustn't say that, young 'un. The last words Reg said to me when he went off were, `Keepyour eye on young Gedge, don't forget'; the very last words, and he'sreminded me of my promise in every letter since. I've been a cad, Iknow, not to see more of you; but you mustn't go thinking that you've nofriends. If it were only for Reg's sake I'd stick to you. Don't blamehim, though, for I know he thinks a lot about you, and it would breakhis heart if you went to the bad. Of course you can help going to thebad, old man; we can all help it. "

The boy looked up with the clouds half brushed away from his face. 

"I don't want to go to the bad, " said he; "but I sort of feel I'm boundto go, unless some one sticks up for me. I'm so awfully weak-minded, I'm not fit to be trusted alone. "

"Hullo, I say, " whispered Horace, suddenly stopping short in his walk, "who's that fellow sneaking about there by the editor's door?"

"He looks precious like Durfy, " said Gedge; "I believe it is he. "

"What does he want there, I wonder--he wasn't on the late shift to-night, was he?"

"No; he went at seven. "

"I don't see what he wants hanging about when everybody's gone, " saidHorace. 

"Unless he's screwed and can't get home--I've known him like that. Thatfellow's not screwed, though, " he added; "see, he's heard some onecoming, and he's off steady enough on his legs. "

"Rum, " said Horace. "It looked like Durfy, too. Never mind, whoever itis, we've routed him out this time. Good-night, old man; don't go downon your luck, mind, and don't go abusing Reg behind his back, and don'tforget you're booked to come home to supper with me on Monday, and seemy mother. Ta-ta. "

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

THE NEW SECRETARY TAKES THE REINS. 

It is high time to return to Reginald, whom we left in a somewhat dismalfashion, straining his eyes for a last sight of his mother and brotheras they waved farewell to him on the Euston platform. 

If the reader expects me to tell him that on finding himself alone ourhero burst into tears, or broke out into repentant lamentations, orwished himself under the wheels of the carriage, I'm afraid he will bedisappointed. 

Reginald spent the first half-hour of his solitary journey inspeculating how the oil in the lamp got round at the wick. Heconsidered the matter most attentively, and kept his eyes fixed on thedim light until London was miles behind him, and the hedges and greyautumn fields on either hand proclaimed the country. Then his mindabandoned its problems, and for another half-hour he tried with all hismight to prevent the beat of the engine taking up the rhythm of one ofthe old Wilderham cricket songs. That too he gave up eventually, andlet his imagination wander at large over those happy school days, whenall was merry, when every friend was a brick, and every exertion asport, when the future beckoned him forward with coaxing hand. Whatgrand times they were! Should he ever forget the last cricket match ofthe summer term, when he bowled three men in one over, and made thehardest catch on record in the Wilderham Close? He and Blandford--

Ah, Blandford! His mind swerved on the points here, and branched offinto the recollection of that ill-starred dinner at the Shades, and theunhealthy bloated face of the cad Pillans. How he would have liked toknock the idiot down, just as he had knocked Durfy down that night whenyoung Gedge--

Ah, another point here and another swerve. Would Horace be sure andkeep his eye on the young 'un, and was there any chance of getting himdown to Liverpool?

Once more a swerve, and this time into a straight reach of meditationfor miles and miles ahead. He thought of everything. He pictured hisown little office and living-room. He drew a mental portrait of thehousekeeper, and the cups and saucers he would use at his well-earnedmeals. He made up his mind the board-room would be furnished in greenleather, and that the Bishop of S-- would be a jolly sort of fellow andfond of his joke. He even imagined what the directors would say amongthemselves respecting himself after he had been introduced and made hisfirst impression. At any rate they should not say he lacked in interestfor their affairs, and when he wrote home--

Ah! this was the last of all the points, and his thoughts after that ranon the same lines till the train plunged into the smoke and gloom of thegreat city which was henceforth to extend to him its tender mercies. 

If Reginald had reckoned on a deputation of directors of the SelectAgency Corporation to meet their new secretary at the station, he wasdestined to be disappointed. There were plenty of people there, butnone concerning themselves with him as he dragged his carpet-bag fromunder the seat and set foot on the platform. 

The bag was very heavy, and Shy Street, so he was told, was ten-minutes'walk from the station. It did occur to him that most secretaries ofcompanies would take a cab under such circumstances and charge it to"general expenses. " But he did not care to spend either theCorporation's money or his own for so luxurious a purpose, and thereforegripped his bag manfully and wrestled with it out into the street. 

The ten-minutes grew to considerably more than twenty before they bothfound themselves in Shy Street. A long, old-fashioned, dismal street itwas, with some shops in the middle, and small offices at either end. Noimposing-looking edifice, chaste in architecture and luxurious inproportions, stood with open doors to receive its future lord. Reginaldand his bag stumbled up a side staircase to the first floor over achemist's shop, where a door with the name "Medlock" loomed before him, and told him he had come to his journey's end. 

Waiting a moment to wipe the perspiration from his face, he turned thehandle and found himself in a large, bare, carpetless room, with a tableand a few chairs in the middle of it, a clock over the chimneypiece, afew directories piled up in one corner, and a bundle of circulars andwrappers in another; and a little back room screened off from thegeneral observation with the word "private" on the door. Such was theimpression formed in Reginald's mind by a single glance round his newquarters. 

In the flutter of his first entrance, however, he entirely overlookedone important piece of furniture--namely, a small boy with long lankhair and pale blotched face, who was sitting on a low stool near thewindow, greedily devouring the contents of a pink-covered periodical. This young gentleman, on becoming aware of the presence of a stranger, crumpled his paper hurriedly into his pocket and rose to his feet. 

"What do yer want?" he demanded. 

"Is Mr Medlock here?" asked Reginald. 

"No fear, " replied the boy. 

"Has he left any message?"

"Don't know who you are. What's yer name?"

"I'm Mr Cruden, the new secretary. "

"Oh, you're 'im, are yer? Yes, you've got to address them thereenvellups, and 'e'll be up in the morning. "

This was depressing. Reginald's castles in the air were beginning totumble about his ears in rapid succession. The bare room he couldexcuse, on the ground that the Corporation was only just beginning itsoperations. Doubtless the carpet was on order, and was to be deliveredsoon. He could even afford not to afflict himself much about thisvulgar, irreverent little boy, who was probably put in, as they put in alittle watch-dog, to see to the place until he and his staff ofassistants rendered his further presence unnecessary. But it did chillhim to find that after his long journey, and his farewell to his ownhome, no one should think it worth while to be here to meet him andinstall him with common friendliness into his new quarters. However, Mr Medlock was a man of business, and was possibly prevented bycircumstances over which he had no control from being present to receivehim. 

"Where's the housekeeper?" demanded he, putting down his bag andrelieving himself of his overcoat. 

"'Ousekeeper! Oh yus, " said the boy, with a snigger; "no 'ousekeepers'ere. "

"Where are my rooms, then?" asked Reginald, beginning to think it a pitythe Corporation had brought him down all that way before they were readyfor him. 

"Ain't this room big enough for yer?" said the boy; "ain't no more 'sep'your bedroom--no droring-rooms in this shop. "

"Show me the bedroom, " said Reginald. 

The boy shuffled to the door and up another flight of stairs, at thehead of which he opened the door of a very small room, about the size ofone of the Wilderham studies, with just room to squeeze round a low ironbedstead without scraping the wall. 

"There you are--clean and haired and no error. I've slep' in itmyself. "

Reginald motioned him from the room, and then sitting down on the bed, looked round him. 

He could not understand it. Any common butcher's boy would be betterput up. A little box of a bedroom like this, with no better testimonialto its cleanliness and airiness than could be derived from the fact thatthe dirty little watch-dog downstairs had occupied it! And in place ofa parlour that bare gaunt room below in which to sit of an evening andtake his meals and enjoy himself. Why ever had the Corporation not hadthe ordinary decency to have his permanent accommodation ready for himbefore he arrived?

He washed himself as well as he could without soap and towel, andreturned to the first floor, where he found the boy back on his oldstool, and once more absorbed in his paper. 

The reader looked up as Reginald entered. 

"Say, what's yer name, " said he, "ever read _Tim Tigerskin_?"

"No, I've not, " replied Reginald, staring at his questioner, andwondering whether he was as erratic in his intellect as he was mealy inhis countenance. 

"'Tain't a bad 'un, but 'tain't 'arf as prime as _The Pirate's Bride_. The bloke there pisons two on 'em with prussic acid, and wouldn't ever'ave got nabbed if he 'adn't took some hisself by mistake, the flat!"

Reginald could hardly help smiling at this appetising _resume_. 

"I want something to eat, " he said. "Is there any place near here whereI can get it?"

"Trum's, but 'is sosseges is off at three o'clock. Better tryCupper's--he's a good 'un for bloaters; _I_ deals with 'im. "

Reginald felt neither the spirit nor the inclination to make a personalexamination into the merits of the rival caterers. 

"You'd better go and get me something, " he said to the boy; "coffee andfish or cold meat will do. "

"No fear; I ain't a-goin' for nothing, " replied the boy. "I'll do yourerrands for a tanner a week and your leavings, but not no less. "

"You shall have it, " said Reginald. Whereupon the boy undertook thecommission and departed. 

The meal was a dismal one. The herrings were badly over-smoked and thecoffee was like mud, and the boy's conversation, which filled in arunning accompaniment, was not conducive to digestion. 

"I'd 'most a mind to try some prussic in that corfee, " said thatbloodthirsty young gentleman, "if I'd a known where the chemistdownstairs keeps his'n. Then they'd 'a said you'd poisoned yourself'cos you was blue coming to this 'ere 'ole. I'd 'a been put in the boxat the inquige, and I'd 'a said Yes, you was blue, and I thought therewas a screw loose the minit I see yer, and I'd seen yer empty a paper ofpowder in your corfee while you thort nobody wasn't a-looking. And thejury'd say it was tempory 'sanity and sooiside, and say they considers Iwas a honest young feller, and vote me a bob out of the poor-box. Thereyou are. What do you think of that?"

"I suppose that's what the man in _The Pirate's Bride_ ought to havedone, " said Reginald, with a faint smile. 

"To be sure he ought. Why, it's enough to disgust any one with theflat, when he goes and takes the prussic hisself. Of course he'd getfound out. "

"Well, it's just as well you've not put any in my coffee, " saidReginald. "It's none too nice as it is. And I'd advise you, youngfellow, to burn all those precious story-books of yours, if that's thesort of stuff they put into your head. "

The boy stared at him in horrified amazement. 

"Burn 'em! Oh, Walker!"

"What's your name?" demanded Reginald. 

"Why, Love, " replied the boy, in a tone as if to say you had only tolook at him to know his name. 

"Well then, young Love, clear these things away and come and make astart with these envelopes. "

"No fear. I ain't got to do no envellups. You're got to do 'em. "

"I say you've got to do them too, " said Reginald, sternly; "and if youdon't choose to do what you're told I can't keep you here. "

The boy looked up in astonishment. 

"You ain't my governor, " said he. 

"I am, though, " said Reginald, "and you'd better make up your mind toit. If you choose to do as you're told we shall get on all right, butI'll not keep you here if you don't. "

His tone and manner effectually overawed the mutinous youngster. Hecould not have spoken like that unless he possessed sufficient authorityto back it up, and as it did not suit the convenience of Mr Love justthen to receive the "sack" from any one, he capitulated with the honoursof war, put his _Tim Tigerskin_ into his pocket, and placed himself athis new "governor's" disposal. 

The evening's work consisted in addressing some two hundred or threehundred envelopes to persons whose names Mr Medlock had ticked in adirectory, and enclosing prospectuses therein. It was not veryentertaining work; still, as it was his first introduction to theoperations of the Corporation, it had its attractions for the newsecretary. A very fair division of labour was mutually agreed upon bythe two workers before starting. Reginald was to copy out theaddresses, and Master Love, whose appetite was always good, was to foldand insert the circulars and "lick up" the envelopes. 

This being decided, the work went on briskly and quietly. Reginald hadleisure to notice one or two little points as he went on, which, thoughtrivial in themselves, still interested him. He observed for one thingthat the largest proportion of the names marked in the directory wereeither ladies or clergymen, and most of them residing in the south ofEngland. Very few of them appeared to reside in any large town, but toprefer rural retreats "far from the madding crowd, " where doubtless aletter, even on the business of the Corporation, would be a welcomediversion to the monotony of existence. As to the clergy, doubtlesstheir names had been suggested by the good Bishop of S--, who would bein a position to introduce a considerable connection to his fellow-directors. Reginald also noticed that only one name had been marked ineach village, it doubtless being assumed that every one in these placesbeing on intimate terms with his neighbour, it was unnecessary to wastestamps and paper in making the Corporation known to two people where onewould answer the same purpose. 

He was curious enough to read one of the circulars, and he was on thewhole pleased with its contents. It was as follows:--

"Select Agency Corporation, Shy Street, Liverpool. --Reverend Sir, " (forthe ladies there were other circulars headed "Dear Madam"), "Theapproach of winter, with all the hardships that bitter season entails onthose whom Providence has not blessed with sufficient means, induces usto call your attention to an unusual opportunity for providing yourselfand those dear to you with a most desirable comfort at a merely nominaloutlay. Having acquired an enormous bankrupt stock of _winter clothing_of most excellent material, and suitable for all measures, we wish, intestimony to our respect for the profession of which you are an honouredrepresentative, to acquaint you _privately_ with the fact beforedisposing of the stock in the open market. For £3 we can supply youwith a complete clerical suit of the best make, including overcoat andgloves, etcetera, etcetera, the whole comprising an outfit which wouldbe cheap at £10. In _your_ case we should have no objection to meet youby taking £2 with your order and the balance _any time within sixmonths_. Should you be disposed to show this to any of your friends, wemay say we shall be pleased to appoint you our agent, and to allow youten per cent, on all sales effected by you, which you are at liberty todeduct from the amount you remit to us with the orders. We subjoin fulllist of winter clothing for gentlemen, ladies, and children. Moneyorders to be made payable to Cruden Reginald, Esquire, Secretary, 13, Shy Street, Liverpool. "

"Hullo!" said Reginald, looking up excitedly, "don't fold up any more ofthose, boy. They've made a mistake in my name and called me CrudenReginald instead of Reginald Cruden. It will have to be altered. "

"Oh, ah. There's on'y a couple of billions on 'em printed; that won'ttake no time at all, " said Master Love, beginning to think longingly of_Tim Tigerskin_. 

"It won't do to send them out like that, " said Reginald. 

"Oh yes, it will. Bless you, what's the odds if you call me Tommy Loveor Love Tommy? I knows who you mean. And the governor, 'e is awfulpartickler about these here being done to-night. And we sent offmillions on 'em last week. My eye, wasn't it a treat lickin' up theenvellups!"

"Do you mean to say a lot of the circulars have been sent already?"

"'Undreds of grillions on 'em, " replied the boy. 

Of course it was no use after that delaying these; so Reginald finishedoff his task, not a little vexed at the mistake, and determined to haveit put right without delay. 

It was this cause of irritation, most likely, which prevented hisdwelling too critically on the substance of the circular soaffectionately dedicated to the poor country clergy. Beyond vaguelywondering where the Corporation kept their "bankrupt" stock of clothing, and how by the unaided light of nature they were to decide whether theirapplicants were stout or lean, or tall or short, he dismissed the matterfrom his mind for the time being, and made as short work as possible ofthe remainder of the task. 

Then he wrote a short line home, announcing his arrival in as cheerfulwords as he could muster, and walked out to post it. The pavements werethronged with a crowd of jostling men and women, returning home from theday's work; but among them all the boy felt more lonely than had he beenthe sole inhabitant of Liverpool. Nobody knew him, nobody looked athim, nobody cared two straws about him. So he dropped his letterdismally into the box, and turned back to Shy Street, where at leastthere was one human being who knew his name and heeded his voice. 

Master Love had made the most of his opportunities. He had lit a candleand stuck it into the mouth of an ink-bottle, and by its friendly lightwas already deep once more in the history of his hero. 

"Say, what's yer name, " said he, looking up as Reginald re-entered, "this here chap" as scuttled a ship, and drowned twenty on 'em. _'E_ wasa cute 'un, and no error. He rigs hisself up as a carpenter, and takesa tile off the ship's bottom just as the storm was a-coming on; and incorse she flounders and all 'ands. "

"And what became of him?" asked Reginald. 

"Oh, in corse he stows hisself away in the boat with a lifebelt, andgets washed ashore; and he kills a tiger for 'is breakfast, and--"

"It's a pity you waste your time over bosh like that, " said Reginald, not interested to hear the conclusion of the heroic Tim's adventures;"if you're fond of reading, why don't you get something better?"

"No fear--I like jam; don't you make no error, governor. "

With which philosophical albeit enigmatical conclusion he buried hisface once more in his hands, and immersed himself in the literary "jam"before him. 

Reginald half envied him as he himself sat listless and unoccupiedduring that gloomy evening. He did his best to acquaint himself, by theaid of papers and circulars scattered about the room, with the work thatlay before him. He made a careful tour of the premises, with a view topossible alterations and improvements. He settled in his own mind wherethe directors' table should stand, and in which corner of the privateroom he should establish his own desk. He went to the length ofdesigning a seal for the Corporation, and in scribbling, for his ownamusement, the imaginary minutes of an imaginary meeting of thedirectors. How would this do?

"A meeting of directors of the Select Agency Corporation"--by the way, was it "Limited"? He didn't very clearly understand what that meant. Still, most companies had the word after their name, and he made a noteto inquire of Mr Medlock whether it applied to them--"was held onOctober 31st at the company's offices. Present, the Bishop of S-- inthe chair, Messrs. Medlock, Blank, M. P. , So-and-so, etcetera. Thesecretary, Mr Cruden, having been introduced, took his seat and thankedthe directors for their confidence. It was reported that the receiptsfor the last month had been (well, say) £1, 000, including £50 depositedagainst shares by the new secretary, and the expenses £750. Mr Medlockreported the acquisition of a large bankrupt stock of clothing, which itwas proposed to offer privately to a number of clergymen and others asper a list furnished by the right reverend the chairman. The followingcheques were drawn:--Rent for offices for a month, £5; printing andpostage, £25; secretary's salary for one month, £12 10 shillings; ditto, interest on the £50 deposit, 4 shillings 2 pence; office-boy (onemonth), £2; Mr Medlock for bankrupt stock of clothing, £150; etcetera, etcetera. The secretary suggested various improvements in the officesand fittings, and was requested to take any necessary steps. Aftersundry other routine business the Board adjourned. "

This literary experiment concluded, Reginald, who after the fatigues andexcitement of the day felt ready for sleep, decided to adjourn too. 

"Do you stay here all night?" said he to Love. 

"Me? You and me sleeps upstairs. "

"I'm afraid there's no room up there for two persons, " said Reginald;"you had better go home to-night, Love, and be here at nine in themorning. "

"Go on--as if I 'ad lodgin's in the town. If you don't want me I knowone as do. Me and the chemist's boy ain't too big for the attick. "

"Very well, " said Reginald, "you had better go up to bed now, it'slate. "

"Don't you think you're having a lark with me, " said the boy; "'tain'televen, and I ain't done this here Tigerskin yet. There's a lump ofreading in it, I can tell you. When he'd killed them tigers he riggedhisself up in their skins, and--"

"Yes, yes, " said Reginald. "I'm not going to let you stay up all nightreading that rot. Cut up to bed now, do you hear?"

Strange to say, the boy obeyed. There was something about Reginaldwhich reduced him to obedience, though much against his will. So heshambled off with his book under his arm, secretly congratulatinghimself that the bed in the attic was close to the window, so that hewould be able to get a jolly long read in the morning. 

After he had gone, Reginald followed his example, and retired to his ownvery spare bed, where he forgot all his cares in a night of soundrefreshing sleep. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

THE SELECT AGENCY CORPORATION LOSES ITS OFFICE-BOY. 

Mr Medlock duly appeared next morning. He greeted the new secretarywith much friendliness, hoped he had a good journey and left them allwell at home, and so on. He further hoped Reginald would find his newquarters comfortable. Most unfortunately they had missed securing thelease of a very fine suite of offices in Lord Street, and had to put upwith these for the present. Reginald must see everything wascomfortable; and as of course he would be pretty closely tied to theplace (for the directors would not like the offices left in charge of amere office-boy), he must make it as much of a home as possible. 

As to money, salaries were always paid quarterly, and on Christmas DayReginald would receive his first instalment. Meanwhile, as there weresure to be a few expenses, Reginald would receive five pounds on account(a princely allowance, equal to about thirteen shillings a week for theeight weeks between now and Christmas!)

The directors, Mr Medlock said, placed implicit confidence in the newsecretary. He was authorised to open all letters that came. Any moneythey might contain he was strictly to account for and pay into the bankdaily to Mr Medlock's account. He needn't send receipts, Mr Medlockwould see to that. Any orders that came he was to take copies of, andthen forward them to Mr John Smith, Weaver's Hotel, London, "to becalled for, " for execution. He would have to answer the questions ofany who called to make inquiries, without of course disclosing anybusiness secrets. In fact, as the aim of the Corporation was to supplytheir supporters with goods at the lowest possible price, they naturallymet with a good deal of jealousy from tradesmen and persons of thatsort, so that Reginald must be most guarded in all he said. If itbecame known how their business was carried on, others would be sure toattempt an imitation; and the whole scheme would fail. 

"You know, Mr Reginald, " said he--

"Excuse me, " interrupted Reginald, "I'm afraid you're mistaken about myname. You've printed it Cruden Reginald, it should be Reginald Cruden. "

"Dear me, how extraordinarily unfortunate!" said Mr Medlock; "I quiteunderstood that was your name. And the unlucky part of it is, we havegot all the circulars printed, and many of them circulated. I have alsogiven your name as Mr Reginald to the directors, and advertised it, sothat I don't see what can be done, except to keep it as it is. Afterall, it is a common thing, and it would put us to the greatestinconvenience to alter it now. Dear me, when I saw you in London Icalled you Mr Reginald, didn't I?"

"No, sir; you called me Mr Cruden. "

"I must have supposed it was your Christian name, then. "

"Perhaps it doesn't matter much, " said Reginald; "and I don't wish toput the directors to any trouble. "

"To be sure I knew you would not. Well, I was saying, Reginald (that'sright, whatever way you take it!) the directors look upon you as agentleman of character and education, and are satisfied to allow you touse your discretion and good sense in conducting their business. Youhave their names, which you can show to any one. They are greatlyscattered, so that our Board meetings will be rare. Meanwhile they willbe glad to hear how you are getting on, and will, I know, appreciate andrecognise your services. By the way, I believe I mentioned (but reallymy memory is so bad) that we should ask you to qualify to the extent of£50 in the shares of the company?"

"Oh yes, I have the cheque here, " said Reginald, taking it out of hispocket. 

"That's right. And of course you will give yourself a receipt for it inthe company's name. Curious, isn't it?"

With which pleasantry Mr Medlock departed, promising to look infrequently, and meanwhile to send in a fresh directory marked, and somenew circulars for him to get on with. 

Reginald, not quite sure whether it was all as good as he expected, setto work without delay to put into practice the various instructions hehad received. 

Mr Medlock's invitation to him to see everything was comfortable couldhardly be fully realised on 13 shillings a week. That must wait forChristmas, and meanwhile he must make the best of what he had. 

He set Love to work folding and enclosing the new circulars (this timecalling attention to some extremely cheap globes and blackboards forladies' and infants' schools), while he drew himself up a programme ofhis daily duties, in accordance with his impression of the directors'wishes. The result of this was that he came to the conclusion he shouldhave his hands very full indeed--a possibility he by no means objectedto. 

But it was not clear to him how he was to get much outdoor exercise orrecreation, or how he was to go to church on Sundays, or even to thebank on weekdays, if the office was never to be left. On this point heconsulted Mr Medlock when he called in later in the day, and arrangedthat for two hours on Sunday, and an hour every evening, besides thenecessary walk to the bank, he might lock up the office and take hiswalks abroad. Whereat he felt grateful and a little relieved. 

It was not till about four days after his arrival that the first crop ofcirculars sown among the clergy yielded their firstfruits. On that dayit was a harvest with a vengeance. At least 150 letters arrived. Mostof them contained the two pounds and an order for the suit. In somecases most elaborate measurements accompanied the order. Some asked forHigh Church waistcoats, others for Low; some wished for wideawake hats, others for broad-brimmed clericals. Some sent extra money for a school-boy's suit as well, and some contained instructions for a completefamily outfit. All were very eager about the matter, and one or twobegged that the parcel might be sent marked "private. "

Reginald had a busy day from morning till nearly midnight, entering andpaying in the cash and forwarding the orders to Mr John Smith. Heorganised a beautiful tabular account, in which were entered the nameand address of each correspondent, the date of their letters, the goodsthey ordered, and the amount they enclosed, and before the day was overthe list had grown to a startling extent. 

The next day brought a similar number of applications and remittances asto the globes and blackboards, and of course some more also about theclerical suits. And so, from day to day, the post showered letters inat the door, and the secretary of the Select Agency Corporation was oneof the hardest worked men in Liverpool. 

Master Love meanwhile had very little time for his "penny dreadfuls, "and complained bitterly of his hardships. And indeed he looked so paleand unhealthy that Reginald began to fear the constant "licking" wasundermining his constitution, and ordered him to use a sponge instead ofhis tongue. But on this point Love's loyalty made a stand. Nothingwould induce him to use the artificial expedient. He deliberately madeaway with the sponge, and after a battle royal was allowed his own way, and continued to lick till his tongue literally clave to the roof of hismouth. 

By the end of a fortnight the first rush of work was over, and Reginaldand his henchman had time to draw breath. Mr Medlock had gone toLondon, presumably to superintend the dispatch of the various articlesordered. 

It was about this time that Reginald had written home to Horacecomplaining of the dulness of his life, and begging him to repayBlandford the 6 shillings 6 pence, which had been weighing like lead onhis mind ever since he left town, and which he now despaired of everbeing able to spare out of the slender pittance on which he was doomedto subsist till Christmas. Happily that festive season was only a fewweeks away now, and then how delighted he should be to send home a roundhalf of his income, and convince himself he was after all a main prop tothat dear distant little household. 

Had he been gifted with ears sharp enough to catch a conversation thattook place at the Bodega in London one evening about the same time, theChristmas spirit within him might have experienced a considerable chill. 

The company consisted of Mr Medlock, Mr Shanklin, and Mr Durfy. Thelatter was present by sufferance, not because he was wanted or invited, but because he felt inclined for a good supper, and was sharp enough toknow that neither of his employers could afford to fall out with himjust then. 

"Well, how goes it?" said Mr Shanklin. "You've had a run lately, andno mistake. "

"Yes, I flatter myself we've done pretty well. One hundred pounds a dayfor ten days makes how much, Durfy?"

"A thousand, " said Durfy. 

"Humph!" said Mr Shanklin. "Time to think of our Christmas holidays. "

"Wait a bit. We've not done yet. You say your two young mashers arestill in tow, Alf?"

"Yes; green as duckweed. But they're nearly played out, I guess. Oneof them has a little bill for fifty pounds coming due in a fortnight, and t'other--well, he wagered me a hundred pounds on a horse that neverran for the Leger, and he's got one or two trifles besides down in mybooks. "

"Yes, I got you that tip about the Leger, " said Durfy, beginning tothink himself neglected in this dialogue of self-congratulation. 

"Yes; you managed to do it this time without botching it, for a wonder!"said Mr Shanklin. 

"Yes; and I hope you'll manage to give me the ten-pound note youpromised me for it, Mr S. , " replied Durfy, with a snarl. "You seem tohave forgotten that, and my commission too for finding you your newsecretary. "

"Yes. By the way, " said Mr Medlock, "he deserves something for that;it's the best stroke of business we've done for a long time. It's worththree weeks to us to have him there to answer questions and choke offthe inquisitive. He's got his busy time coming on, I fancy. Bless you, Durfy, the fellow was born for us! He swallows anything. I've allowedhim thirteen shillings a week till Christmas, and he says, `Thank you. 'He's had his name turned inside out, and I do believe he thinks it animprovement! He sticks in the place all day with that young cockneygaol-bird you picked us up too, Durfy, and never growls. "

"Does he help himself to any of the money?"

"Not a brass farthing! I do believe he buys his own postage-stamps whenhe writes home to his mamma!"

This last announcement was too comical to be received gravely. 

"Ha, ha! he ought to be exhibited!" said Shanklin. 

"He ought to be starved!" said Durfy viciously. "He knocked me downonce, and I wouldn't have told you of him if I didn't owe him a grudge--the puppy!"

"Oh, well, I daresay you'll be gratified some day or other, " saidMedlock. 

"I tell you one thing, " said Durfy; "you'd better put a stopper on hiswriting home too often; I believe he's put his precious brother up towatch me. Why, the other night, when I was waiting for the postman toget hold of that letter you wanted, I'm blessed if he didn't turn up androut me out--he and a young chum of his brother's that used to be in theswim with me. I don't think they saw me, luckily; but it was a shave, and of course I missed the letter. "

"Yes, you did; there was no mistake about that!" said Mr Shanklinviciously. "When did you ever not miss it?"

"How can I help it, when it's your own secretary is dogging me?"

"Bless you! think of him dogging any one, the innocent! Anyhow, we cancut off his letters home for a bit, so as to give you no excuse nexttime. "

"And what's the next job to be, then?" asked Durfy. 

"The most particular of all, " replied the sporting man. "I want aletter with the Boldham postmark, or perhaps a telegram, that will bedelivered to-morrow night by the last post. There's a fifty poundsturns on it, and I must have it before the morning papers are out. Never mind what it is; you must get it somehow, and you'll get a fiverfor it. As soon as that's done, Medlock, and the young dandies' billshave come due, we can order a cab. Your secretary at Liverpool willhold out long enough for us to get to the moon before we're wanted. "

"You're right there!" said Mr Medlock, laughing. "I'll go down andlook him up to-morrow, and clear up, and then I fancy he'll manage therest himself; and we can clear out. Ha, ha! capital sherry, this brand. Have some more, Durfy. "

Mr Medlock kept his promise and cheered Reginald in his loneliness by afriendly visit. 

"I've been away longer than I expected, and I must say the way you havemanaged matters in my absence does you the greatest credit, Reginald. Ishall feel perfectly comfortable in future when I am absent. "

A flush of pleasure rose to Reginald's cheeks, such as would have movedto pity any heart less cold-blooded than Mr Medlock's. 

"No one has called, I suppose?"

"No, sir. There's been a letter, though, from the Rev. T. Mulberry, of Woolford-in-the-Meadow, to ask why the suit he ordered has not yetbeen delivered. "

Mr Medlock smiled. 

"These good men are so impatient, " said he; "they imagine their order isthe only one we have to think of. What would they think of the fourhundred and odd suits we have on order, eh, Mr Reginald?"

"I suppose I had better write and say the orders will be taken inrotation, and that his will be forwarded in a few days. "

"Better say a few weeks. You've no notion of the difficulty we have intrying to meet every one's wishes. Say before Christmas--and the samewith the globes and other things. The time and trouble taken in packingthe things really cuts into the profits terribly. "

"Could we do any of it down here?" said Reginald. "Love and I haveoften nothing to do. "

It was well the speaker did not notice the fiendish grimace with whichthe young gentleman referred to accepted the statement. 

"You're very good, " said Mr Medlock; "but I shouldn't think of it. Wewant you for head work. There are plenty to be hired in London to dothe hand work. By the way, I will take up the register of orders andcash you have been keeping, to check with the letters in town. Youwon't want it for a few days. "

Reginald felt sorry to part with a work in which he felt such pride asthis beautifully kept register. However, he had made it for the use ofthe Corporation, and it was not his to withhold. 

After clearing up cautiously all round, with the result that Reginaldhad very little besides pen, ink, and paper left him, Mr Medlock saidgood morning. 

"I may have to run up to town for a few days, " he said, "but I shall seeyou again very soon, I hope. Meanwhile, make yourself comfortable. Thedirectors are very favourably impressed with you already, and I hope atChristmas they may meet and tell you so in person. Boy, make a parcelof these books and papers and bring them for me to my hotel. "

Love obeyed surlily. He was only waiting for Mr Medlock's departure todive into the mystery of _Trumpery Toadstool, or Murdered for a Lark_, in which he had that morning invested. He made a clumsy parcel of thebooks, and then shambled forth in a somewhat homicidal spirit in MrMedlock's wake down the street. 

At the corner that gentleman halted till he came up. 

"Well, young fellow, picked any pockets lately?"

The boy scowled at him inquisitively. 

"All right, " said Mr Medlock. "I never said you had. I'm not going totake you to the police-station, I'm going to give you half a crown. "

This put a new aspect on the situation. Love brightened up as hewatched Mr Medlock's hand dive into his pocket. 

"What should you do with a half-crown if you had it?"

"Do? I know, and no error. I'd get the _Noogate Calendar_, that's whatI'd do. "

"You can read, then?"

"Ray-ther; oh no, not me. "

"Can you read writing?"

"In corse. "

"Do you always go to the post with the letters?"

"In corse. "

"Do you ever see any addressed to Mrs Cruden or Mr Cruden in London?"

"'Bout once a week. That there sekketery always gives 'em to meseparate, and says I'm to be sure and post 'em. "

"Well, I say they're not to be posted, " said Mr Medlock. "Here's halfa crown; and listen: next time you get any to post put them on one side;and every one you can show me you shall have sixpence for. Mind whatyou're at, or he'll flay you alive if he catches you. Off you go, there's a good boy. "

And Love pocketed his half-crown greedily, and with a knowing wink athis employer sped back to the office. 

That afternoon Reginald wrote a short polite note to the Rev. T. Mulberry, explaining to him the reason for any apparent delay in theexecution of his order, and promising that he should duly receive itbefore Christmas. This was the only letter for the post that day, andLove had no opportunity of earning a further sixpence. 

He had an opportunity of spending his half-crown, however, and when hereturned from the post he was radiant in face and stouter under thewaistcoat by the thickness of the coveted volume of the _NewgateCalendar_ series. 

With the impetuosity characteristic of his age, he plunged into itscontents the moment he found himself free of work, and by the timeReginald returned from his short evening stroll he was master of severalof its stories. _Tim Tigerskin_ and _The Pirate's Bride_ were nothingto it. They all performed their incredible exploits on the other sideof the world, but these heroes were beings of flesh and blood likehimself, and, for all he knew, he might have seen them and talked tothem, and have known some of the very spots in London which theyfrequented. He felt a personal interest in their achievements. 

"Say, governor, " said he as soon as Reginald entered, "do you knowSouthwark Road?"

"In London? Yes, " said Reginald. 

"This 'ere chap, Bright, was a light porter to a cove as kep' a grocer'sshop there, and one night when he was asleep in the arm-cheer he puts asack on 'is 'ead and chokes 'im. The old cove he struggles a bit, but--"

"Shut up!" said Reginald angrily. "I've told you quite often enough. Give me that book. "

At the words and the tones in which they were uttered Love suddenlyturned into a small fiend. He struggled, he kicked, he cursed, hehowled to keep his treasure. Reginald was inexorable, and of course itwas only a matter of time until the book was in his hands. A glance atits contents satisfied him. 

"Look here, " said he, holding the book behind his back and parrying allthe boy's frantic efforts to recover it, "don't make a fool of yourself, youngster. "

"Give it to me! Give me my book, you--"

And the boy broke into a volley of oaths and flung himself once moretooth-and-nail on Reginald. Already Reginald saw he had made a mistake. He had done about the most unwise thing he possibly could have done. But it was too late to undo it. The only thing, apparently, was to gothrough with it now. So he flung the book into the fire, and, catchingthe boy by the arm, told him if he did not stop swearing and strugglingat once he would make him. 

The boy did not stop, and Reginald did make him. 

It was a poor sort of victory, and no one knew it better than Reginald. If the boy was awed into silence, he was no nearer listening to reason--nay, further than ever. He slunk sulkily into a corner, glowering athis oppressor and deaf to every word he uttered. In vain Reginaldexpostulated, coaxed, reasoned, even apologised. The boy met it allwith a sullen scowl. Reginald offered to pay him for the book, to buyhim another, to read aloud to him, to give him an extra hour a day--itwas all no use; the injury was too deep to wash out so easily; andfinally he had to give it up and trust that time might do what argumentsand threats had failed to effect. 

But in this he was disappointed; for next morning when nine o'clockarrived, no Love was there, nor as the day wore on did he put in anappearance. When at last evening came, and still no signs of him, Reginald began to discover that the sole result of his well-meantinterference had been to drive his only companion from him, and doomhimself henceforth to the miseries of solitary confinement. 

For days he scarcely spoke a word. The silence of that office wasunearthly. He opened the window, winter as it was, to let in the soundof cabs and footsteps for company. He missed even the familiar rustleof the "penny dreadfuls" as the boy turned their pages. He wishedanybody, even his direst foe, might turn up to save him from dying ofloneliness. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

A LETTER FROM HORACE. 

"Dear Reg, " (so ran a letter from Horace which Reginald received a dayor two after Master Love's desertion), "I'm afraid you are having rathera slow time up there, which is more than can be said for us here. There's been no end of a row at the _Rocket_, which you may like to hearabout, especially as two of the chief persons concerned were your friendDurfy and your affectionate brother. 

"Granville, the sub-editor, came into the office where Booms andWaterford and I were working on Friday morning, and said, in his usualmild way, --

"`I should like to know who generally clears the post-box in themorning?'

"`I do, ' said Booms. You know the way he groans when he speaks. 

"`The reason I want to know is, because I have an idea one or twoletters lately have either been looked at or tampered with before theeditor or I see them. '

"`I suppose I'm to be given in charge?' said Booms. `I didn't do it;but when once a man's suspected, what's the use of saying anything?'

"Even Granville couldn't help grinning at this. 

"`Nonsense, Booms. I'm glad to say I know you three fellows well enoughby this time to feel sure it wasn't one of you. I shouldn't have spokento you about it if I had. '

"Booms seemed quite disappointed he wasn't to be made a martyr of afterall. 

"`You think I know all about it?' he said. 

"`No, I don't; and if you'll just listen without running away withridiculous notions, Booms, ' said Granville, warming up a bit, `I'llexplain myself. Two letters during the last fortnight have beenundoubtedly opened before I saw them. They both arrived between eighto'clock in the evening and nine next morning, and they both came fromsporting correspondents of ours in the country, and containedinformation of a private nature intended for our paper the next day. Inone case it was about a horse race, and in the other about an importantfootball match. The letters were not tampered with for the purpose ofgiving information to any other papers, because we were still the onlypaper who gave the news, so the probability is some one who wanted tobet on the event has tried to get hold of the news beforehand. '

"`I never made a bet in my life, ' said Booms. 

"We couldn't help laughing at this, for the stories he tells us of histerrific sporting exploits when he goes out of an evening in his highcollar would make you think he was the loudest betting man in London. 

"Granville laughed too. 

"`Better not begin, ' he said, and then blushed very red, as it occurredto him he had made an unintentional pun. But we looked quite grave, anddid not give any sign of having seen it, and that put him on his feetagain. 

"`It's not a comfortable thing to happen, ' said he, `and what I want topropose is that one or two of you should stay late for a night or twoand see if you can find out how it occurs. There are one or two eventscoming off during the next few days about which we expect specialcommunications, so that very likely whoever it is may try again. Youmust be very careful, and I shall have to leave you to use yourdiscretion, for I'm so busy with the new Literary Supplement that Icannot stay myself. '

"Well, when he'd gone we had a consultation, and of course it ended inWaterford and me determining to sit up. Poor Booms's heart would breakif he couldn't go `on the mash' as usual; and though he tried to seemvery much hurt that he was not to stay, we could see he was greatlyrelieved. Waterford and I were rather glad, as it happened, for we'dsome work on hand it just suited us to get a quiet evening for. 

"So I wrote a note to Miss Crisp. Don't get excited, old man; she's avery nice girl, but she's another's. [By the way, Jemima asks after youevery time I meet her, which is once a week now; she's invited herselfinto our shorthand class. ] And after helping to rig old Booms up to theninety-nines, which wasn't easy work, for his `dicky' kept twistinground to the side of his neck, and we had to pin it in three placesbefore it would keep steady, I gave him the note and asked him would heever be so kind as to take it round for me, as it was to ask Miss Crispif she would go and keep my mother company during my absence. 

"After that I thought we should never get rid of him. He insisted onoverhauling every article of his toilet. At least four more pins wereadded to fix the restless dicky in its place on his manly breast. Wepolished up his eye-glasses with wash-leather till the pewter nearly allrubbed off; we helped him roll his flannel shirt-sleeves up to theelbows for fear--horrible idea!--they should chance to peep out frombelow his cuffs; we devoted an anxious two minutes to the poising of hishat at the right angle, and then passed him affectionately from one tothe other to see he was all right. After which he went off, holding myletter carefully in his scented handkerchief and saying--dear gaydeceiver!--that he envied us spending a cosy evening in that snug officeby the fire!

"The work Waterford and I have on hand is--tell it not in Gath, old man, and don't scorn a fellow off the face of the earth--to try to writesomething that will get into the Literary Supplement. This supplementis a new idea of the editor's, and makes a sort of weekly magazine. Hewrites a lot of it himself, and we chip a lot of stuff for him out ofother papers. The idea of having a shot at it occurred to us bothindependently, in a funny and rather humiliating way. It seemsWaterford, without saying a word to me or anybody, had sat down andcomposed some lines on the `Swallow'--appropriate topic for this seasonof the year. I at the same time, without saying a word to Waterford oranybody except mother, had sat down and, with awful groanings andwrestlings of mind, evolved a lucubration in prose on `Ancient andModern Athletic Sports. ' Of course I crammed a lot of it up out ofencyclopaedias and that sort of thing. It was the driest rot you everread, and I knew it was doomed before I sent it in. But as it waswritten I thought I might try. So, as of course I couldn't send it inunder my own name, I asked Miss Crisp if I might send it under hers. The obliging little lady laughed and said, `Yes, ' but she didn't tell meat the same time that Waterford had come to her with his `Swallow' andasked the very same thing. A rare laugh she must have had at ourexpense! Well, I sent mine in and Waterford sent in his. 

"We were both very abstracted for the next few days, but little guessedour perturbation arose from the same cause. Then came the fatalWednesday--the `d. W. T. ' day as we call it--for Granville always saves uphis rejected addresses for us to `decline with thanks' for Wednesdays. There was a good batch of them this day, so Waterford and I took halfeach. I took a hurried skim through mine, but no `Ancient and ModernAthletic Sports' were there. I concluded therefore Waterford had it. Granville writes in the corner of each `d. W. T. , ' or `d. W. T. Note, ' whichmeans `declined with thanks' pure and simple, or `declined with thanks'and a short polite note to be written at the same time stating that thesub-editor, while recognising some merit in the contribution, regrettedit was not suitable for the Supplement. I polished off my pure andsimple first, and then began to tackle the notes. About the fourth Icame to considerably astonished me. It was a couple of mild sonnets onthe `Swallow, ' with the name M. E. Crisp attached!

"`Hullo, ' I said to Waterford, tossing the paper over to him, `here'sMiss Crisp writing some verses. I should have thought she could writebetter stuff than that, shouldn't you?'

"Waterford, very red in the face, snatched up the paper and glanced atit. 

"`Do you think they're so bad?' said he. 

"`Frightful twaddle, ' said I; `fancy any one saying--'"

 "The drowsy year from winter's sleep ye wake, Yet two of ye do not a summer make. "

"`Well, ' said he, grinning, `you'd better tell her straight off it'sbosh, and then she's not likely to make a fool of herself again. Hullo, though, I say, ' he exclaimed, picking up a paper in front of him, everysmudge and blot of which I knew only too well, `why, she's at it again. What's this?

"`"Ancient and Mod--" Why, it's in your writing; did you copy it out forher?'

"`I wrote that out, yes, ' said I, feeling it my turn to colour up andlook sheepish. 

"Waterford glanced rapidly through the first few lines, and then said, --

"`Well, all I can say is, it's a pity she didn't stick to poetry. I'msure the line about waking the drowsy year is a jolly sight better thanthis awful rot. '

"`Though we are not told so in so many words, we may reasonably concludethat athletic sports were not unpractised by Cain and Abel prior to thedeath of the latter!

"`As if they could have done it after!'

"`I never said they could, ' I said, feeling very much taken down. 

"`Oh--it was you composed it as well as wrote it, was it?' said helaughing. `Ho, ho! that's the best joke I ever heard. Poor littleCrisp, what a shame to get her to father--or mother a thing like this;ha, ha! "prior to the death of the latter"--that's something like a playof language! My eye, what a game she's been having with us!'

"`_Us_! then you're the idiot who wrote about the Swallows!' said I. 

"`Suppose I am, ' said he, blushing all over, `suppose I am. '

"`Well, all I can say is, I'm precious glad the little Crisp isn'tguilty of it. "Two of ye do not a summer make, " indeed!'

"`Well, they don't, ' said he. 

"`I know they don't, ' said I, half dead with laughing, `but you needn'tgo and tell everybody. '

"`I'm sure it's just as interesting as "Cain and Abel"--'

"`There now, we don't want to hear any more about them, ' said I, `but Ithink we ought to send them both back to Miss Crisp, to give her herlaugh against us too. '

"We did so; and I needn't tell you she lets us have it whenever we getwithin twenty yards of her. 

"Here's a long digression, but it may amuse you; and you said you wantedsomething to read. 

"Well, Waterford and I recovered in a few days from our first reverse, and decided to have another shot; and so we were rather glad of thequiet evening at the office to make our new attempts. We half thoughtof writing a piece between us, but decided we'd better go on our ownhooks after all, as our styles were not yet broken in to one another. We agreed we had better this time both write on subjects we knewsomething about; Waterford accordingly selected `A Day in a Sub-Sub-Editor's Life' as a topic he really could claim to be familiar with;while I pitched upon `Early Rising, ' a branch of science in which Iflatter myself, old man, _you_ are not competent to tell me whether Iexcel or not. Half the battle was done when we had fixed on oursubjects; so as soon as every one was gone we poked up the fire and madeourselves snug, and settled down to work. 

"We plodded on steadily till we heard the half-past nine letters droppedinto the box. Then it occurred to us we had better turn down the lightsand give our office as deserted a look as we could. It was rather slowwork sitting in the dark for a couple of hours, not speaking a word ordaring to move a toe. The fire got low, but we dared not make it up;and of course we both had awful desires to sneeze and cough--you alwaysdo at such times--and half killed ourselves in our efforts to smotherthem. We could hear the cabs and omnibuses in Fleet Street keeping up aregular roar; but no footsteps came near us, except once when atelegraph boy (as we guessed by his shrill whistling and his smart step)came and dropped a telegram into the box. I assure you the click theflap of the letter-box made that moment, although I knew what it was andwhy it was, made my heart beat like a steam-engine. 

"It was beginning to get rather slow when twelve came and still nothingto disturb us. We might have been forging ahead with our writing allthis time if we had only known. 

"Presently Waterford whispered, --

"`They won't try to-night now. '

"Just as he spoke we heard a creak on the stairs outside. We had heardlots of creaks already, but somehow this one startled us both. Iinstinctively picked up the ruler from the table, and Waterford took myarm and motioned me close to the wall beside him. Another creak camepresently and then another. Evidently some one was coming down thestairs cautiously, and in the dark too, for we saw no glimmer of a lightthrough the partly-opened door. We were behind it, so that if it openedwe should be quite hidden unless the fellow groped round it. 

"Down he came slowly, and there was no mistake now about its being ahuman being and not a ghost, for we heard him clearing his throat veryquietly and snuffling as he reached the bottom step. I can tell you itwas rather exciting, even for a fellow of my dull nerves. 

"Waterford nudged me to creep a little nearer the gas, ready to turn itup at a moment's notice, while he kept at the door, to prevent our mangetting out after he was once in. 

"Presently the door opened very quietly. He did not fling it wide open, luckily, or he was bound to spot us behind it; but he opened it justenough to squeeze in, and then, feeling his way round by the wall, madestraight for the letter-box. Although it was dark he seemed to know hisway pretty well, and in a few seconds we heard him stop and fumble witha key in the lock. In a second or two he had opened it, and then, crouching down, began cautiously to rub a match on the floor. The lightwas too dim to see anything but the crouching figure of a man bendingover the box and examining the addresses of one or two of the letters init. His match went out before he had found what he wanted. 

"It was hard work to keep from giving him a little unexpected light, formy fingers itched to turn up the gas. However, it was evidently betterto wait a little longer and see what he really was up to before we weredown on him. 

"He lit another match, and this time seemed to find what he wanted, forwe saw him put one letter in his pocket and drop all the others backinto the box, blowing out his match as he did so. 

"Now was our time. I felt a nudge from Waterford and turned the gasfull on, while he quietly closed the door and turned the key. 

"I felt quite sorry for the poor scared beggar as he knelt there andturned his white face to the light, unable to move or speak or doanything. You'll have guessed who it was. 

"`So, Mr Durfy, ' said Waterford, leaning up against the door andfolding his arms, `it's you, is it?'

"The culprit glared at him and then at me, and rose to his feet with aforced laugh. 

"`It looks like it, ' he said. 

"`So it does, ' said Waterford, taking the key out of the door andputting it in his pocket; `very like it. And it looks very much as ifhe would have to make himself comfortable here till Mr Granvillecomes!'

"`What do you mean?' exclaimed the fellow. `I've as much right to behere as you have, for the matter of that, at this hour. '

"`Very _well_, then, ' said Waterford, as cool as a cucumber, `we'll allthree stay here. Eh, Cruden?'

"`I'm game, ' said I. 

"He evidently didn't like the turn things were taking, and changed histack. 

"`Come, don't play the fool!' he said coaxingly, `The fact is, Iexpected a letter from a friend, and as it was very important I came toget it. It's all right. '

"`You may think so, ' said Waterford; `you may think it's all right tocome here on tiptoe at midnight with a false key, and steal, but otherpeople may differ from you, that's all! Besides, you're telling a lie;the letter you've got in your pocket doesn't belong to you!'

"It was rather a rash challenge, but we could see by the way his facefell it was a good shot. 

"He uttered an oath, and advanced threateningly towards the door. 

"`Sit down, ' said Waterford, `unless you want to be tied up. There aretwo of us here, and we're not going to stand any nonsense, I can tellyou!'

"`You've no right--'

"`Sit down, and shut up!' repeated Waterford. 

"`I tell you if you--'

"`Cruden, you'll find some cord in one of those drawers. If you don'tshut up, and sit down, Durfy, we shall make you. '

"He caved in after that, and I was rather glad we hadn't to go toextremes. 

"`Hadn't we better get the letter?' whispered I. 

"`No; he'd better fork it out to Granville, ' said Waterford. 

"He was wrong for once, as you shall hear. 

"Durfy slunk off and sat down on a chair in the far corner of the room, swearing to himself, but not venturing to raise his voice above a growl. 

"It was now about half-past twelve, and we had the lively prospect ofwaiting at least eight hours before Granville turned up. 

"`Don't you bother to stay, ' said Waterford. `I can look after him. '

"But I scouted the idea, and said nothing would induce me to go. 

"`Very well, then, ' said he; `we may as well get on with our writing. '

"So we pulled our chairs up to the table, with a full-view of Durfy inthe corner, and tried to continue our lucubrations. 

"But when you are sitting up at dead of night, with a prisoner in thecorner of the room cursing and gnashing his teeth at you, it is not easyto grow eloquent either on the subject of `A Day in a Sub-sub-Editor'sLife, ' or `Early Rising. ' And so we found. We gave it up presently, and made up the fire and chatted together in a whisper. 

"Once or twice Durfy broke the silence. 

"`I'm hungry, ' growled he, about two o'clock. 

"`So are we, ' said Waterford. 

"`Well, go and get something. I'm not going to be starved, I tell you. I'll make you smart for it, both of you. '

"`You've been told to shut up, ' said Waterford, rising to his feet witha glance towards the drawer where the cord was kept. 

"Durfy was quiet after that for an hour or so. Then I suppose he musthave overheard me saying something to Waterford about you, for he brokeout with a vicious laugh, --

"`Reginald! Yes, he'll thank you for this. I'll make it so hot forhim--'

"`Look here, ' said Waterford, `this is the last time you're going to becautioned, Durfy. If you open your mouth once more you'll be gagged;mind that. I mean what I say. '

"This was quite enough for Durfy. He made no further attempt to speak, but curled himself up on the floor and turned his face to the wall, anddisposed himself to all appearances to sleep. Whether he succeeded ornot I can't say. But towards morning he glowered round at us. Then hetook out some tobacco and commenced chewing it, and finally turned hisback on us again and continued dozing and chewing alternately till theeight o'clock bell rang and aroused us. 

"Half an hour later Granville arrived, and a glance at our group wasquite sufficient to acquaint him with the state of affairs. 

"`So this is the man, ' said he, pointing to Durfy. 

"`Yes, sir. We caught him in the act of taking a letter out of the boxat midnight. In fact, he's got it in his pocket this moment. '

"Durfy gave a fiendish grin, and said, --

"`That's a lie. I've no letter in my pocket!'

"And he proceeded to turn his pockets one after the other inside out. 

"`All I know is we both saw him take a letter out of the box and put itin his pocket, ' said Waterford. 

"`Yes, ' snarled Durfy, `and I told you it was a private letter of myown. '

"`Whatever the letter is, you took it out of the box, and you had bettershow it quietly, ' said Granville; `it will save you trouble. '

"`I tell you I have no letter, ' replied Durfy again. 

"`Very well, then, Cruden, perhaps you will kindly fetch a policeman. '

"I started to go, but Durfy broke out, this time in tones of sincereterror, --

"`Don't do that, don't ruin me! I did take it, but--'

"`Give it to me then. '

"`I can't. I've eaten it!'

"Wasn't this a thunderbolt! How were we to prove whose the letter was?Wild thoughts of a stomach-pump, or soap and warm water, did flashthrough my mind, but what was the use? The fellow had done us afterall, and we had to admit it. 

"No one stopped him as he went to the door, half scowling, halfgrinning. 

"`Good morning, gentlemen!' said he. `I hope you'll get a betternight's rest to-morrow. I promise not to disturb you, ' (here followed afew oaths). `But I'll pay you out, some of you--Crudens, Reginalds, sneaks, prigs--all of you!'

"With which neat peroration he took his leave, and the _Rocket_ has notseen him since. 

"Here's a long screed! I must pull up now. 

"Mother's not very well, she's fretting, I'm afraid, and her eyestrouble her. I can't say we shall be sorry when Christmas comes, fortry all we can, we're in debt at one or two of the shops. I know you'llhate to hear it, but it's simply unavoidable on our present means. Iwish I could come down and see you; but for one thing, I can't affordit, and for another, I can't leave mother. Mrs Shuckleford is reallyvery kind, though she's not a congenial spirit. 

"Young Gedge and I see plenty of one another: he's joined our shorthandclass, and is going in for a little steady work all round. He owes youa lot for befriending him at the time you did, and he's not forgottenit. I promised to send you his love next time I wrote. Harker will bein town next week, which will be jolly. I've never seen Bland since Icalled to pay the 6 shillings 6 pence. I fancy he's got into rather afast lot, and is making a fool of himself, which is a pity. 

"You tell us very little about your Corporation; I hope it is going onall right. I wish to goodness you were back in town. I never was inlove with the concern, as you know, and at the risk of putting you in arage, I can't help saying it's a pity we couldn't all have stayedtogether just now. Forgive this growl, old man. 

"Your affectionate brother, --

"Horace. 

"Wednesday, `d. W. T. ' day. To our surprise and trepidation, neither the`Day in a Sub-Sub-editor's Life' nor `Early Rising' were among thepapers given out to-day to be `declined with thanks. ' Granville mayhave put them into the fire as not even worth returning, or he mayactually--_O mirabile dictu_--be going to put us into print?"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. 

VISITORS AT NUMBER 13, SHY STREET. 

The concluding sentences of Horace's long letter, particularly thosewhich referred to his mother's poor health and the straitenedcircumstances of the little household, were sufficiently unwelcome toeclipse in Reginald's mind the other exciting news the letter hadcontained. They brought on a fit of the blues which lasted more thanone day. 

For now that he had neither companion nor occupation (for the businessof the Select Agency Corporation had fallen off completely) there wasnothing to prevent his indulgence in low spirits. 

He began to chafe at his imprisonment, and still more at hishelplessness even were he at liberty to do anything. Christmas wasstill a fortnight off, and till then what could he do on thirteenshillings a week? He might cut down his commissariat certainly, to, say, a shilling a day, and send home the rest. But then, what aboutcoals and postage-stamps and other incidental expenses, which had to bemet in Mr Medlock's absence out of his own pocket? The weather wasvery cold--he could hardly do without coals, and he was bound in theinterests of the Corporation to keep stamps enough in the place to coverthe necessary correspondence. 

When all was said, two shillings seemed to be the utmost he could saveout of his weekly pittance, and this he sent home by the very next post, with a long, would-be cheerful, but really dismal letter, stoutlydenying that he was either miserable or disappointed with his new work, and anticipating with pleasure the possibility of being able to run upat Christmas and bring with him the welcome funds which would clear thefamily of debt and give it a good start for the New Year. 

When he had finished his letter home he wrote to Mr Medlock, veryrespectfully suggesting that as he had been working pretty hard and forthe last few days single-handed, Mr Medlock might not object to advancehim at any rate part of the salary due in a fortnight, as he was ratherin need of money. And he ventured to ask, as Christmas Day fell on aThursday, and no business was likely to be done between that day and thefollowing Monday, might he take the _two_ or three days' holiday, undertaking, of course, to be back at his post on the Monday morning?He enclosed a few post-office orders which had come to hand since helast wrote, and hoped he should soon have the pleasure of seeing MrMedlock--"or anybody, " he added to himself as he closed the letter andlooked wearily round the gaunt, empty room. 

Now, if Reginald had been a believer in fairies he would hardly havestarted as much as he did when, almost as the words escaped his lips, the door opened, and a female marched into the room. 

A little prim female it was, with stiff curls down on her forehead and avery sharp nose and very thin lips and fidgety fingers that seemed notto know whether to cling to one another for support or fly at thecountenance of somebody else. 

This formidable visitor spared Reginald the trouble of inquiring to whatfortunate circumstance he was indebted for the honour of so unlooked-fora visit. 

"Now, sir!" said she, panting a little, after her ascent of the stairs, but very emphatic, all the same. 

The observation was not one which left much scope for argument, andReginald did not exactly know what to reply. At last, however, hesummoned up resolution enough to say politely, --

"Now, madam, can I be of any service?"

Inoffensive as the observation was, it had the effect of greatlyirritating the lady. 

"None of your sauce, young gentleman, " said she, putting down her bagand umbrella, and folding her arms defiantly. "I've not come here totake any of your impertinence. "

Reginald's impertinence! He had never been rude to a lady in all hislife except once, and the penance he had paid for that sin had beenbitter enough, as the reader can testify. 

"You needn't pretend not to know what I've come here for, " continued thelady, taking a hasty glance round the room, as if mentally calculatingfrom what door or window her victim would be most likely to attempt toescape. 

"Perhaps she's Love's mother!" gasped Reginald, to himself. --"Oh, butwhat a Venus!"

This classical reflection he prudently kept to himself, and waited forhis visitor to explain her errand further. 

"You know who I am, " she said, walking up to him. 

"No, indeed, " said Reginald, hardly liking to retreat, but not quitecomfortable to be standing still. "Unless--unless your name is Love. "

"Love!" screamed the outraged "Venus. "

"I'll Love you, young gentleman, before I've done with you. Love, indeed, you impudent sauce-box, you!"

"I beg your pardon, " began Reginald. 

"Love, indeed! I'd like to scratch you, so I would!" cried the lady, with a gesture so ominously like suiting the action to the word, thatReginald fairly deserted his post and retreated two full paces. 

This was getting critical. Either the lady was mad, or she had mistakenReginald for some one else. In either case he felt utterly powerless todeal with the difficulty. So like a prudent man he decided to hold histongue and let the lady explain herself. 

"Love, indeed!" said she, for the third time. "You saucy jackanapes, you. No, sir, my name's Wrigley!"

She evidently supposed this announcement would fall like a thunderbolton the head of her victim, and it disconcerted her not a little when hemerely raised his eyebrows and inclined his head politely. 

"Now do you know what I'm come about?" said she. 

"No, " replied he. 

"Yes you do. You needn't think to deceive me, sir. It won't do, I cantell you. "

"I _really_ don't know, " said poor Reginald. "Who are you?"

"I'm the lady who ordered the globe and blackboard, and sent two poundsalong with the order to you, Mr Cruden Reginald. There! _Now_ perhapsyou know what I've come for!"

If she had expected Reginald to fly out of the window, or seek refuge upthe chimney, at this announcement, the composure with which he receivedthe overpowering disclosure must have considerably astonished her. 

"Eh?" she said. "Eh? Do you know me now?"

"I have no doubt you are right, " said he. "We had more than a hundredorders for the globes and boards, and expect they will be delivered thisweek or next. "

"Oh! then you have been imposing on more than me?" said the lady, whotill this moment had imagined she had been the only correspondent of theCorporation on the subject. 

"We've been imposing on no one, " said Reginald warmly. "You have noright to say that, Mrs Wrigley. "

His honest indignation startled the good lady. 

"Then why don't you send the things?" she demanded, in a milder tone. 

"There are a great many orders to attend to, and they have to be takenin order as we receive them. Probably yours came a good deal later thanothers. "

"No, it didn't. I wrote by return of post, and put an extra stamp ontoo. You must have got mine one of the very first. "

"In that case you will be one of the first to receive your globe andboard. "

"I know that, young man, " said she. "I'm going to take them with menow!"

"I'm afraid you can't do that, " said Reginald. "They are being sent offfrom London. "

The lady, who had somewhat moderated her wrath in the presence of thesecretary's unruffled politeness, fired up as fiercely as ever at this. 

"There! I _knew_ it was a swindle! From London, indeed! Might as wellsay New York at once! _I'm_ not going to believe your lies, you youngrobber! Don't expect it!"

It was a considerable tax on Reginald's temper to be addressed inlanguage like this, even by a lady, and he could not help retortingrather hotly, "I'm glad you are only a woman, Mrs Wrigley, for Iwouldn't stand being called a thief by a man, I assure you!"

"Oh, don't let that make any difference!" said she, fairly in a rage, and advancing up to him. "Knock me down and welcome! You may just aswell murder a woman as rob her!"

"I can only tell you again your order is being executed in London. "

"And I can tell you I don't believe a word you say, and I'll just havemy two pounds back, and have done with you! Come, you can't say younever got _that_!"

"If you sent it, I certainly did, " said Reginald. 

"Then perhaps you'll hand it up this moment?"

"I would gladly do so if I had it, but--"

"I suppose it's gone to London too?" said she, with supernaturalcalmness. 

"It has been paid in with all the money to the bank, " said Reginald. "But if you wish it I will write to the managing director and ask him toreturn it by next post. "

"Will you?" said she, in tones that might have frozen any one lessheated than Reginald. "And you suppose I've come all the way fromDorsetshire to get that for an answer, do you? You're mistaken, sir! Idon't leave this place till I get my money or my things! So now!"

"Then, " said Reginald, feeling the case desperate, and pushing a chairin her direction, "perhaps you'd better sit down. "

She glared round at him indignantly. But perhaps it was the sight ofhis haggard, troubled face, or the faint suspicion that he, after all, might be more honest than his employers, or the reflection that shecould get her rights better out of the place than in it. Whatever thereason was, she changed her mind. 

"You shall hear of me again, sir!" said she; "mind that! Love, indeed!"whereupon she bounced out of the office and slammed the door behind her. 

Reginald sat with his eyes on the door for a full two minutes before hecould sufficiently collect his wits to know where he was or what hadhappened. 

Then a sense of indignation overpowered all his other feelings--notagainst Mrs Wrigley, but against Mr Medlock, for leaving him in aposition where he could be, even in the remotest degree, open to sounpleasant a charge as that he had just listened to. 

Why could he not be trusted with sufficient money and control over theoperations of the Corporation to enable him to meet so unfounded acharge? What would the Bishop of S-- or the other directors think ifthey heard that a lady had come all the way from Dorsetshire to tellthem they were a set of swindlers and thieves? If he had had thesending off of the orders to see to, he was confident he could have gotevery one of them off by this time, even if he had made up every parcelwith his own hands. 

What, in short, was the use of being called a secretary if he was armedwith no greater authority than a common junior clerk?

He opened the letter he had just written to Mr Medlock, and sat down towrite another, more aggrieved in its tone and more urgent in its requestthat Mr Medlock would come down to Liverpool at once to arrange matterson a more satisfactory footing. It was difficult to write a letterwhich altogether pleased him; but at last he managed to do it, and forfear his warmth should evaporate he went out to post it, locking theoffice up behind him. 

He took a walk before returning--the first he had taken for a week. Itwas a beautiful crisp December day, when, even through the murkyatmosphere of Liverpool, the sun looked down joyously, and the blue sky, flecked with little fleecy clouds, seemed to challenge the smoke andsteam of a thousand chimneys to touch its purity. Reginald's stepsturned away from the city, through a quiet suburb towards the country. He would have to walk too far, he knew, to reach real open fields andgreen lanes, but there was at least a suggestion of the country herewhich to his weary mind was refreshing. 

His walk took him past a large public school, in the playground of whichan exciting football match was in active progress. Like an old warhorse, Reginald gazed through the palings and snorted as the cry ofbattle rose in the air. 

"Hack it through, sir!" "Well run!" "Collar him there!"

As he heard those old familiar cries it seemed to him as if the old lifehad come back to him with a sudden rush. He was no longer a poor baitedsecretary, but a joyous school-boy, head of his form, lord and master ofhalf a dozen fags, and a caution and example to the whole junior school. He had chums by the score; his study was always crowded with fellowswanting him to do this or help them in that. How jolly to be popular!How jolly, when the ball came out of the scrimmage, to hear every oneshout, "Let Cruden have it!" How jolly, as he snatched it up andrushed, cleaving his way to the enemy's goal, to hear that roar behindhim, "Run indeed, sir!"

"Back him up!"

"Well played!" Yes, he heard them still, like music; and as he watchedthe shifting fortunes of this game he felt the blood course through hisveins with a strange, familiar ardour. 

Ah, here came the ball out of the scrimmage straight towards him! Oh, the thrill of such a moment! Who does not know it? A second more andhe would have it--

Alas! poor Reginald awoke as suddenly as he had dreamed. A hideouspaling stood between him and the ball. He was not in the game at all. Nothing but a lonely, friendless drudge, whom nobody wanted, nobodycared about. 

With a glistening in his eyes which he would have scornfully protestedwas not a tear, he turned away and walked moodily back to Shy Street, caring little if it were to be the last walk he should ever take. 

He was not, however, to be allowed much time for indulging his gloomyreflections on reaching his journey's end. A person was waiting outsidethe office, pacing up and down the pavement to keep himself warm. Thestranger took a good look at Reginald as he entered and let himself in, and then followed up the stairs and presented himself. 

"Is Mr Reginald at home?" inquired he blandly. 

Reginald noticed that he was a middle-aged person, dressed in a sort ofvery shabby clerical costume, awkward in his manner, but notunintelligent in face. 

"That is my name, " replied he. 

"Thank you. I am glad to see you, Mr Reginald. You were kind enoughto send me a communication not long ago about--well, about a suit ofclothes. "

His evident hesitation to mention anything that would call attention tohis own well-worn garb made Reginald feel quite sorry for him. 

"Oh yes, " said he, taking good care not to look at his visitor's toilet, "we sent a good many of the circulars to clergymen. "

"Very considerate, " said the visitor. "I was away from home and haveonly just received it. "

And he took the circular out of his pocket, and seating himself on achair began to peruse it. 

Presently he looked up and said, --

"Are there any left?"

"Any of the suits? Oh yes, I expect so. We had a large number. "

"Could I--can you show me one?"

"Unfortunately I haven't got them here; they are all in London. "

"How unfortunate! I did so want to get one. "

Then he perused the paper again. 

"How soon could I have one?" he said. 

"Oh very soon now; before Christmas certainly, " replied Reginald. 

"You are sure?"

"Oh yes. They will all be delivered before then. "

"And have you had many orders?" said the clergyman. 

"A great many, " said Reginald. 

"Hundreds, I daresay. There are many to whom it would be a boon at thisseason to get so cheap an outfit. "

"Two hundred, I should say, " said Reginald. "Would you like to leave anorder with me?"

"Two hundred! Dear me! And did they all send the two pounds, as statedhere, along with their order?"

"Oh yes. Some sent more, " said Reginald, quite thankful to have someone to talk to, who did not regard him either as a fool or a knave. 

"It must have been a very extensive bankrupt stock you acquired, " saidthe clergyman musingly. "And were all the applicants clergymen likemyself?"

"Nearly all. "

"Dear me, how sad to think how many there are to whom such anopportunity is a godsend! We are sadly underpaid, many of us, MrReginald, and are apt to envy you gentlemen of business your comfortablemeans. Now you, I daresay, get as much as three or four of us poorcurates get together. "

"I hope not, " said Reginald with a smile. 

"Well, if I even had your £200 a year I should be thankful, " said thepoor curate. 

"But I haven't that by £50, " said Reginald. "Shall I put you down for acomplete suit, as mentioned in the circular?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I cannot well do without it, " said the other. 

"And what name and address?" said Reginald. 

"Well, perhaps the simplest way would be, as I am going back to London, for you to give me an order for the things to present at your depotthere. It will save carriage, you know. "

"Very well, " said Reginald, "I will write one for you. You notice, "added he, "that we ask for £2 with the order. "

"Ah, yes, " said the visitor, with a sigh, "that appears to be a sternnecessity. Here it is, Mr Reginald. "

"Thank you, " said Reginald. "I will write you a receipt; and here is anote to Mr John Smith, at Weaver's Hotel, London, who has charge of theclothing. I have no doubt he will be able to suit you with just whatyou want. "

"John Smith? I fancy I have heard his name somewhere. Is he one ofyour principals--a dark tall man?"

"I have never seen him, " said Reginald, "but all our orders go to himfor execution. "

"Oh, well, thank you very much. I am sure I am much obliged to you. You seem to be single-handed here. It must be hard work for you. "

"Pretty hard sometimes. "

"I suppose clothing is what you chiefly supply?"

"We have also been sending out a lot of globes and blackboards toschools. "

"Dear me, I should be glad to get a pair of globes for our parishschool--very glad. Have you them here?"

"No, they are in London too. "

"And how do you sell them? I fear they are very expensive. "

"They cost £3 the set, but we only ask £2 with the order. "

"That really seems moderate. I shall be strongly tempted to ask ourVicar to let me get a pair when in London. Will Mr Smith be able toshow them to me?"

"Yes, he is superintending the sending off of them too. "

"How crowded Weaver's Hotel must be, with so many bulky articles!" saidthe curate. 

"Oh, you know, I don't suppose Mr Smith keeps them there; but he livesthere while he's in town, that's all. Our directors generally put up atWeaver's Hotel. "

"I should greatly like to see a list of the directors, if I may, " saidthe clergyman. "There's nothing gives one so much confidence as to seehonoured names on the directorate of a company like yours. "

"I can give you a list if you like, " said Reginald. 

"I daresay you know by name the Bishop of S--, our chairman?"

"To be sure, and--dear me, what a very good list of names! Thank you, if I may take one of these, I should like to show it to my friends. Well, then, I will call on Mr Smith in London, and meanwhile I am verymuch obliged to you, Mr Reginald, for your courtesy. Very glad to havemade your acquaintance. Good afternoon. "

And he shook hands cordially with the secretary, and departed, leavingReginald considerably soothed in spirit, as he reflected that he hadreally done a stroke of work for the Corporation that day on his ownaccount. 

It was well for his peace of mind that he did not know that theclergyman, on turning the corner of Shy Street, rubbed his hands merrilytogether, and said to himself, in tones of self-satisfaction, --

"Well, if that wasn't the neatest bit of work I've done since I came onthe beat. The innocent! He'd sit up, I guess, if he knew the nicepleasant-spoken parson he's been blabbing to was Sniff of the detectiveoffice. My eye--it's all so easy, there's not much credit about thebusiness after all. But it's pounds, shillings and pence to Sniff, andthat's better!"

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

SAMUEL SHUCKLEFORD FINDS HIMSELF BUSY. 

"Jemima, my dear, " said Mrs Shuckleford one day, as the little familyin Number 4, Dull Street, sat round their evening meal, "I don't likethe looks of Mrs Cruden. It's my opinion she don't get enough to eat. "

"Really, ma, how you talk!" replied the daughter. "The butcher's boyleft there this very afternoon. I saw him. "

"I'm afraid, my dear, he didn't leave anything more filling than a bill. In fact, I 'eard myself that the butcher told Mrs Marks he thoughtNumber 6 'ad gone far enough for 'im. "

"Oh, ma! you don't mean to say they're in debt?" said Jemima, who, bythe way, had been somewhat more pensive and addicted to sitting byherself since Reginald had gone north. 

"Well, if it was only the butcher I heard it from I wouldn't take muchaccount of it, but Parker the baker 'as 'is doubts of them; so I 'eardthe Grinsons' maid tell Ford when I was in 'is shop this very day. AndI'm sure you've only to look at 'Orace's coat and 'at to see they mustbe in debt: the poor boy looks a reg'lar scarecrow. It all comes, mydear, of Reginald's going off and leaving them. Oh, 'ow I pity themthat 'as a wild son. "

"Don't talk nonsense, ma, " said Miss Jemima, firing up. "He's no morewild than Sam here. "

"You seem to know more about Reginald than most people, my dear, " saidher mother significantly. 

To the surprise of the mother and brother, Jemima replied to thisinsinuation by bursting into tears and walking out of the room. 

"Did you ever see the like of that? She always takes on if any onementions that boy's name; and she's old enough to be his aunt, too!"

"The sooner she cures herself of that craze the better, " said Sam, pouring himself out some more tea. "She don't know quite so much abouthim as I do!"

"Why, what do you know about 'im, then?" inquired Mrs Shuckleford, intones of curiosity. 

"Never you mind; we don't talk business out of the office. All I cantell you is, he's a bad lot. "

"Poor Mrs Cruden! no wonder she takes on. What an infliction a wickedson is to a mother, Sam!"

"That'll do, " said the dutiful Sam. "What do you know about it? I tellyou what, ma, you're thick enough with Number 6. You'd better draw offa bit. "

"Oh, Sam, why so?"

"Because I give you the tip, that's all. The old lady may not be in it, but I don't fancy the connection. "

"But, Sam, she's starving herself, and 'Orace is in rags. "

"Send her in a rump-steak and a suit of my old togs by the housemaid, "said Sam; "or else do as you like, and don't blame me if you're sorryfor it. "

Mrs Shuckleford knew it was no use trying to extract any more lucidinformation from her legal offspring, and did not try, but she madeanother effort to soften his heart with regard to the Widow Cruden andher son. 

"After all they're gentlefolk in trouble, as we might be, " said she, "and they do behave very nice at the short-'and class to Jemima. "

"Gentlefolk or not, " said Sam decisively, spreading a slice of toastwith jam, "I tell you you'd better draw off, ma--and Jim must chuck upthe class. I'm not going to have her mixing with them. "

"But the child's 'eart would break, Sam, if--"

"Let it break. She cares no more about shorthand than she does aboutcounty courts. It's all part of her craze to tack herself on that lot. She's setting her cap at _him_ while she's making up to his ma; any flatmight see that; but she's got to jack up the whole boiling now--there. We needn't say any more about it. "

And, having finished his tea, Mr Samuel Shuckleford went down to his"club" to take part in a debate on "Cruelty to Animals. "

Now the worthy captain's widow, Mrs Shuckleford, had lived long enoughin this world to find that human nature is a more powerful law even thanparental obedience; she therefore took to heart just so much of herson's discourse as fitted with the one, and overlooked just so much asexacted the latter. In other words, she was ready to believe thatReginald Cruden was a "bad lot, " but she was not able to bring herselfon that account to desert her neighbour at the time of her trouble. 

Accordingly that same evening, while Samuel was pleading eloquently onbehalf of our dumb fellow-creatures, and Jemima, having recovered fromher tears, was sitting abstractedly over a shorthand exercise in her ownbedroom, Mrs Shuckleford took upon herself to pay a friendly call atNumber 6. 

It happened to be one of Horace's late evenings, so that Mrs Cruden wasalone. She was lying wearily on the uncomfortable sofa, with her eyesshaded from the light, dividing her time between knitting and musing, the latter occupation receiving a very decided preference. 

"Pray don't get up, " said Mrs Shuckleford, the moment she entered. "Ionly looked in to see 'ow you was. You're looking bad, Mrs Cruden. "

"Thank you, I am quite well, " said Mrs Cruden, "only a little tired. "

"And down in your spirits, too; and well you may be, poor dear, " saidthe visitor soothingly. 

"No, Mrs Shuckleford, " said Mrs Cruden brightly. "Indeed, I ought notto be in bad spirits to-day. We've had quite a little family triumphto-day. Horace has had an article published in the _Rocket_, and we areso proud. "

"Ah, yes; he's the steady one, " said Mrs Shuckleford. "There's norolling stone about 'Orace. "

"No, " said the mother warmly. 

"If they was only both alike, " said the visitor, approaching her subjectdelicately. 

"Ah! but it often happens two brothers may be very different in temperand mind. It's not always a misfortune. "

"Certainly not, Mrs Cruden; but when one's good and the other'swicked--"

"Oh, then, of course, it is very sad, " said Mrs Cruden. 

"Sad's no name for it, " replied the visitor, with emotion. "Oh, MrsCruden, 'ow sorry I am for you. "

"You are very kind. It is a sad trial to be separated from my boy, butI've not given up hopes of seeing him back soon. "

Mrs Shuckleford shook her head. 

"'Ow you must suffer on 'is account, " said she. "If your 'eart don'tbreak with it, it must be made of tougher stuff than mine. "

"But after all, Mrs Shuckleford, " said Mrs Cruden, "there are worsetroubles in this life than separation. "

"You're right. Oh, I'm so sorry for you. "

"Why for me? I have only the lighter sorrow. "

"Oh, Mrs Cruden, do you call a wicked son a light sorrow?"

"Certainly not, but my sons, thank God, are good, brave boys, both ofthem. "

"And who told you 'e was a good, brave boy? Reggie, I mean. "

"Who told me?" said Mrs Cruden, with surprise. "Who told me he wasanything else?"

"Oh, Mrs Cruden! Oh, Mrs Cruden!" said Mrs Shuckleford, beginning tocry. 

Mrs Cruden at last began to grow uneasy and alarmed. She sat up on thesofa, and said, in an agitated voice, --

"What _do_ you mean, Mrs Shuckleford? Has anything happened? Is thereany bad news about Reginald?"

"Oh, Mrs Cruden, I made sure you knew all about it. "

"What is it?" cried Mrs Cruden, now thoroughly terrified and tremblingall over. "Has anything happened to him? Is he--dead?" and she seizedher visitor's hand as she asked the question. 

"No, Mrs Cruden, not dead. Maybe it would be better for 'im if hewas. "

"Better if he was dead? Oh, please, have pity and tell me what youmean!" cried the poor mother, dropping back on to the sofa with a faceas white as a sheet. 

"Come, don't take on, " said Mrs Shuckleford, greatly disconcerted tosee the effect of her delicate breaking of the news. "Perhaps it's notas bad as it seems. "

"Oh, what is it? what is it? I can't bear this suspense. Why don't youtell me?" and she trembled so violently and looked so deadly pale thatMrs Shuckleford began to get alarmed. 

"There, there, " said she soothingly; "I'll tell you another time. You're not equal to it now. I'll come in to-morrow, or the next day, when you've had a good night's rest, poor dear. "

"For pity's sake tell me all now!" gasped Mrs Cruden; "unless you wantto kill me. "

It dawned at last on the well-meaning Mrs Shuckleford that no good wasbeing done by prolonging her neighbour's suspense any further. 

"Well, well! It's only that I'm afraid he's been doing something--well--dreadful. Oh, Mrs Cruden, how sorry I am for you!"

Mrs Cruden lay motionless, like one who had received a stab. 

"What has he done?" she whispered slowly. 

"I don't know, dear--really I don't, " said Mrs Shuckleford, beginningto whimper at the sight of the desolation she had caused. "It was Sam, my son, told me--he wouldn't say what it was--and I 'ope you won't let'im know it was me you 'eard it from, Mrs Cruden, for he'd be very--Mercy on us!"

Mrs Cruden had fainted. 

Help was summoned, and she was carried to her bed. When Horace arrivedshortly afterwards he found her still unconscious, with Mrs Shucklefordbathing her forehead, and tending her most gently. 

"You had better run for a doctor, 'Orace, " whispered she, as the scaredboy entered the room. 

"What is the matter? What has happened?" gasped he. 

"Poor dear, she's broken down--she's-- But go quick for the doctor, 'Orace. "

Horace went as fast as his fleet feet would carry him. The doctorpronounced Mrs Cruden to be in a state of high fever, produced bynervous prostration and poor living. He advised Horace, if possible, toget a nurse to tend her while the fever lasted, especially as she wouldprobably awake from her swoon delirious, and would for several daysremain in a very critical condition. 

In less than five minutes Horace was at Miss Crisp's, imploring herassistance. The warm-hearted little lady undertook the duty without amoment's hesitation, and from that night, and for a fortnight to come, hardly quitted her friend's bedside. 

Mrs Shuckleford, deeming it prudent not to refer again to theunpleasant subject which had been the immediate cause of Mrs Cruden'sseizure, waited till she was assured that at present she could be of nofurther use, and then withdrew, full of sympathy and commiseration, which she manifested in all sorts of womanly ways during her neighbour'sillness. Not a day passed but she called in, morning and afternoon, toinquire after the patient, generally the bearer of some home-madedelicacy, and sometimes to take her post by the sick bed while MissCrisp snatched an hour or so of well-earned repose. 

As for Horace, he could hardly be persuaded to leave the sick chamber. But the stern necessity of work, greater than ever now at this time ofspecial emergency, compelled him to take the rest necessary for his ownhealth and daily duties. With an effort he dragged himself to theoffice every morning, and like an arrow he returned from it everyevening, and often paid a flying visit at midday. His good-naturedcompanions voluntarily relieved him of all late work, and, indeed, everyone who had in the least degree come into contact with the gentlepatient seemed to vie in showing sympathy and offering help. 

Young Gedge was amongst the most eager of the inquirers at the house. He squandered shillings in flowers and grapes, and sometimes even ranthe risk of disgrace at the _Rocket_ by lingering outside the houseduring a doctor's visit, in order to hear the latest bulletin before hewent back to work. 

In his mind, as well as in Horace's, a faint hope had lurked thatsomehow Reginald might contrive to run up to London for a day or two atleast, to cheer the house of watching. Mrs Cruden, in her delirium, often moaned her absent son's name, and called for him, and theybelieved if only he were to come, her restless troubled mind might ceaseits wanderings and find rest. 

But Reginald neither came nor wrote. 

Since Horace, on the first day of her illness, had written, telling himall, no one had heard a word from him. 

At last, when after a week Horace wrote again, saying, --

"Come to us, if you love us, " and still no letter or message came back, a new cloud of anxiety fell over the house. 

Reginald must be ill, or away from Liverpool, or something must havehappened to him, or assuredly, they said, he would have been at hismother's side at the first breath of danger. 

Mrs Shuckleford only, as day passed day, and the prodigal neverreturned, shook her head and said to herself, it was a blessing no oneknew the reason, not even the poor delirious sufferer herself. Poorpeople! they had trouble enough on them not to need any more just now!so she kept her own counsel, even from Jemima. 

This was the more easy to do because she knew nothing either of Reginaldor his doings beyond what her son had hinted, and as Samuel was atpresent in the country on business, she had no opportunity ofprosecuting her inquiries on the subject. 

Sam, in fact, whether he liked it or not, happened just now to hold thefortunes of the family of Cruden pretty much in his own hands. 

A few days before the conversation with his mother already reported, hehad been sitting in his room at the office, his partner and the headclerk both being absent on County Court business. 

Samuel felt all the dignity of a commander-in-chief, and was thereforenot at all displeased when the office-boy had come and knocked at hisdoor, and said that a lady of the name of Wrigley had called, and wishedto see him. 

"Show the lady in, " said Sam grandly, "and put a chair. "

Mrs Wrigley was accordingly ushered in, the dust of travel still onher, for she had come direct from Liverpool by the night train, determined to put her wrongs in the hands of the law. Mr Crawley, Samuel's principal, had been legal adviser to the late Mr Wrigley; itwas only natural, therefore, that the widow, not liking to entrust hersecret to the pettifogging practitioner of her own village, should makeuse of a two hours' break in her journey to seek his aid. 

"Your master's not in, young man?" said she, as she took the profferedseat. "That's a pity. "

"I'm sure he'll be very sorry, " said Sam; "but if it's anything I cando--"

"If you can save poor defenceless women from being plundered, and punishthose that plunder them--then you can. "

Here was a slice of luck for Samuel! The first bit of practice on hisown account that had ever fallen in his way. If he did not make a goodthing out of it his initials were not S. S. !

He drew his chair confidentially beside that of the injured MrsWrigley, and drank in the story of her woes with an interest that quitewon her heart. At first he failed to recognise either the name of thedelinquent Corporation or its secretary, but when presently his clientproduced one of the identical circulars sent out, with the name CrudenReginald at the foot, his professional instincts told him he haddiscovered a "real job, and no mistake. "

He made Mrs Wrigley go back and begin her story over again (a task shewas extremely ready to perform), and took copious notes during therecital. He impounded the document, envelope and all, cross-examinedand brow-beat his own witness--in fact, did all a rising young lawyerought to do, and concluded in judicial tones, "Very good, Mrs Wrigley;I think we can do something for you. I think we know something of theparties. Leave it to us, madam; we will put you right. "

"I hope you will, " said the lady. "You see, as I've been all the way upto Liverpool and back, I think I ought to be put right. "

"Most certainly you ought, and you shall be. "

"And to think of his brazen-faced impudence in calling me `Love, ' youngman. There's a profligate for you!"

Samuel was knowing enough to see that it would greatly please theoutraged lady if he took a special note of this disclosure, which heaccordingly did, and then rising, once more assured his client of hisdetermination to put her right, and bade her a very good morning. 

"Well, if that ain't a go, " said he to himself, as he returned to hisdesk. "I never did have much faith in the chap, but I didn't fancy hewas that sort. Cruden Reginald, eh? Nice boy you are. Never mind!I'm dead on you this time. Nuisance it is that ma's gone and mixedherself up with that lot. Can't be helped, though; business isbusiness; and such a bit of practice too. Cruden Reginald! But youdon't get round Sam Shuckleford when he's once round your way, mybeauty. "

To the legal mind of Sam this transposition of Reginald's name was initself as good as a verdict and sentence against him. Any one else buthimself might have been taken in by it, but you needed to get up veryearly in the morning to take in a cute one like S. S. !

He said nothing about the affair to his principal when he returned, preferring to "nurse" it as a little bit of business of his own, whichhe would manage by himself for once in a way. 

And that very evening fortune threw into his way a most unexpected andinvaluable auxiliary. 

He was down at his "club, " smoking his usual evening pipe over the_Rocket_, when a man he had once or twice seen before in the place cameup and said, --

"After you with that paper. "

"All serene, " said Sam; "I'll be done with it in about an hour. "

"You don't take long, " said the other. 

"Considering I'm on the committee, " said Sam, with ruffled dignity, "I've a right to keep it just as long as I please. Are you a memberhere?"

"No, but I'm introduced. "

"What's your name?"

"Durfy. "

"Oh, you're the man who was in the _Rocket_. I heard of you from afriend of mine. By the way, " and here his manner became quite civil, asa brilliant idea occurred to him, "look here, it was only my chaff aboutkeeping the paper; you can have it. I'll look at it afterwards. "

"All right, thanks, " said Durfy, who felt no excuse for not being civiltoo. 

"By the way, " said Sam, as he was going off with the paper, "there was afellow at your office, what was his name, now--Crowder, Crundell? Somename of that sort--I forget. "

"Cruden you mean, perhaps, " said Durfy, with a scowl. 

"Ah, yes--Cruden. Is he still with you? What sort of chap is he?"

Durfy described him in terms far more forcible than affectionate, andadded, "No, he's not there now; oh no. I kicked him out long ago. ButI've not done with him yet, my boy. "

Sam felt jubilant. Was ever luck like his? Here was a man whoevidently knew Reginald's real character, and could, doubtless, ifproperly handled, put him on the scent, and, as he metaphorically put itto himself, "give him a clean leg up over the job. "

So he called for refreshments for two, and then entered on a friendlydiscourse with Durfy on things in general, and offered to make him amember of the club; then bringing the conversation round to Reginald, hehinted gently that _he_ too had his eye on that young gentleman, and wasat the present moment engaged in bowling him out. 

Whereupon Durfy, after a slight hesitation, and stipulating that hisname should not be mentioned in the matter, gave Sam what information heconsidered would be useful to him, suppressing, of course, all mentionof the real promoters of the Select Agency Corporation, and giving thesecretary credit for all the ingenuity and cunning displayed in itsoperations. 

The two new friends spent a most agreeable evening, Sam flatteringhimself he was squeezing Durfy beautifully into the service of his "bigjob, " and Durfy flattering himself that this bumptious young pettifoggerwas the very person to get hold of to help him pay off all his oldscores with Reginald Cruden. 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

POVERTY AND LOVE BOTH COME IN AT THE DOOR. 

We left Reginald in a somewhat comfortable frame of mind after hisinterview with the pleasant clergyman and the stroke of business he hadtransacted on behalf of the Corporation. It had been refreshing to himto converse in terms of peace with any fellow-mortal; and the readysatisfaction of this visitor with the method of business adopted by theCompany went far to dispel the uneasy impressions which Mrs Wrigley'svisit 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 hadno doubt his position would be improved. He flattered himself theymight think he was useful enough to be worth while keeping; and in thatcase of course he would have a right to ask to be put on rather morecomfortable a footing than he possessed at present, and to be entrustedwith a certain amount of control over the business of the Corporation. He would also be able mildly to suggest that it would be more convenientto him to receive his salary monthly than quarterly, so as to enable himnot only to live respectably himself, as became their secretary, butalso to give regular help to his mother at home. As it was, with abeggarly thirteen shillings a week to live on, he was little better thana common office-boy, he would have said to himself, but at thatparticular moment the door opened, and the very individual whom histhoughts connected with the words appeared before him. 

It was the very last apparition Reginald could have looked for. He hadgiven up all idea of seeing the young desperado any more. 

Though he could not exactly say, "Poverty had come in at the door andLove had flown out of the window"--for the young gentleman had departedby the door--he yet had made up his mind that Cupid had taken to himselfwings and flown away, with no intention of ever returning to the sceneof his late struggle. 

But a glance at the starved, emaciated figure before him explained verysimply the mystery of this strange apparition. The boy's hands and lipswere blue with cold, and his cheek-bones seemed almost to protrudethrough his pallid, grimy cheeks. He looked, in fact, what he was, thepicture of misery, and he had no need of any other eloquence to open theheart 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 thistime. "

"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 whetherReginald was luring him in to his own destruction. But at any rate thesight of the fire roused him to heroism, and, reckless of allconsequences, he walked in. 

"Don't do nothink to me this time, gov'nor, " whimpered he, as he gotwithin arm's length; "let us off, do you hear? this time. "

"Poor boy, " said Reginald kindly, putting a stool for him close besidethe fire; "I'm not going to do anything but warm you. Sit down, anddon't be afraid. "

The boy dropped almost exhausted on the stool, and gazed in a sort ofrapture 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 lookedas if he had scarcely touched food since he had gone away. He madeclear decks of all Reginald had in the place; and then, slipping off thestool, curled himself up on the floor before the fire like a dog, anddropped off into a heavy sleep. Reginald took the opportunity to make ahurried excursion to the nearest provision shop to lay in what store hislittle means would allow. He might have spared himself the trouble oflocking the door behind him, though, for on his return the boy had neverstirred. 

The little sleeper lay there all night, until, in fact, the coals couldhold out no longer, and the fire went out. Then Reginald woke him andcarried him off to his own bed, where he dropped off into another longsleep which lasted till midday. After partaking of the meal hisbenefactor had ready for him on waking, he seemed more like himself, anddisposed to make himself useful. 

"Ain't got no envellups to lick, then?" said he, looking round thedeserted room. 

"No, there's nothing to do here just now, " said Reginald. 

The boy looked a little disappointed, but said, presently, --

"Want any errands fetched, gov'nor?"

"No, not now. I've got all I want in for the present. "

"Like yer winders cleaned?"

"Not much use with this frost on them, " said Reginald. 

Thwarted thus on every hand, the boy asked no more questions, but tookupon himself to go round the office and dust it as well as he could withthe ragged tail of his coat. It was evidently his way of saying, "Thankyou, " and he seemed more easy in his mind when it was done. 

He stopped once in the middle of his task as he caught Reginald's eyesfixed half curiously, half pityingly upon him. 

"Say--gov'nor, I ain't going to read no more books; do ye hear?"

There was something quite pathetic in the tones in which thisdeclaration of renunciation was made. It was evidently a supreme effortof repentance, and Reginald felt almost uncomfortable as he heard it. 

"That there _Noogate Calendar_ made a rare flare-up, didn't it, gov'nor?" continued Love, looking wistfully towards the grate, ifperchance any stray leaves should have escaped the conflagration. 

"Not such a flare-up as you did, " said Reginald, laughing. "Never mind, we'll try and get something nicer to read. "

"No fear! Never no more. I ain't a-goin' to read nothink again, I tellyer, " said the boy, quite warmly. 

And for fear of wavering in his resolution he went round the room oncemore, rubbing up the cheap furniture till it shone, and ending withpolishing up the very hearth that had served as the sacrificial altar tohis beloved _Newgate Calendar_ only a few days before. There was littleor no more work to be done during the day. A few letters had come bythe morning's post, angrily complaining of the delay in delivering thepromised goods. To these Reginald had replied in the usual form, leaving to Love the privilege of "licking them up. " He also wrote toMr Medlock, enclosing the two pounds the pleasant clergyman had leftthe day before, and once more urging that gentleman to come down toLiverpool. 

He went out, happily unconscious of the fact that a detective doggedevery step he took, to post these letters himself, and at the same timeto lay in a day's provisions for two. It was with something like aqualm that he saw his last half-sovereign broken over this purchase. With nine shillings left in his pocket, and twelve days yet toChristmas, it was as clear as daylight that things were rapidlyapproaching a crisis. It was almost a relief to feel it. 

On his way back to the office he passed a secondhand book-stall. He hadlingered in front of it many times before now, turning over the leavesof this and that odd volume, and picking up the scraps of amusement andinformation which are always to be found in such an occupation. To-day, however, he overhauled the contents of the trays with rather morecuriosity than usual; not because he expected to find a pearl of greatprice among the dust and dog's ears of the "threepenny" tray. Reginaldwas the last person in the world to consider himself a child of fortunein that respect. 

No! he had Master Love on his mind, and the memory of that blazing_Newgate Calendar_ on his conscience, and, even at the cost of a furtherreduction of his vanishing income, he determined not to return providedwith food for Love's body only, but also for Love's mind. 

Accordingly he selected two very shabby and tattered volumes from the"threepenny" tray--one a fragment of _Robinson Crusoe_, the other PartOne of the _Pilgrim's Progress_, and with these in his pocket and theeatables in his hands, he returned to his charge as proud as a generalwho has just relieved a starving garrison. 

After the frugal supper the books were triumphantly produced, but MasterLove, still mindful of his recent tribulations, regarded them shyly atfirst, as another possible bait to his own undoing; but presentlycuriosity, and the sight of a wonderful picture of Giant Despair, overcame his scruples, and he held out his hand eagerly. 

It was amusing to watch the critical look on his face as he took apreliminary glance through the pages of the two books. Reginald washalf sorry he had not produced them one at a time; but it being too latenow to recall either, he awaited with no little excitement the decisionof the young connoisseur upon them. Apparently Love found considerabletraces of what he would call "jam" in both. The picture of Crusoecoming upon the footprint in the sand, and that of the great battlebetween Christian and Apollyon, seemed to gather into themselves thefinal claims of the two rivals, and for a few moments victory trembledin the balance. At last he shut up _Robinson Crusoe_ and stuffed it inhis pocket. 

"Say, what's yer name, " said he, looking up and laying his finger on thebattle scene; "which of them two does for t'other?"

"The one in the armour, " said Reginald. 

"Thought so--t'other one's a flat to fight with that there longflagpole. Soon as 'e's chucked it away 'e's a dead 'un. Say, what didthey do with 'is dead body? No use a 'idin' of it. If I was 'im I'd acut 'is throat, and left the razor in 'is 'and, and they'd a brought itin soosanside. Bless you, coroners' juries is reg'lar flats at findin'out them sort of things. "

"Suppose you read what it says, " said Reginald, hardly able to restraina laugh; "if you like you can read it aloud; I'd like to hear it againmyself. "

The boy agreed, and that evening the two queerly assorted friends satside by side in the dim candle-light, going over the wonderful story ofthe Pilgrim. Reginald judiciously steered the course through the mostthrilling parts of the narrative, carefully avoiding whatever might haveseemed to the boy dull or digressive. 

Love stopped in his reading frequently to discuss the merits of thestory and deliver himself of his opinion as to what he would have doneunder similar circumstances. He would have made short work with thelions chained by the roadside; he would have taken a bull's-eye lanternthrough the dark valley; and as for the river at the end, he couldn'tunderstand anybody coming to grief there. Why, at Victoria Park lastWhit Monday he had swum three-quarters of a mile himself!

In vain Reginald pointed out that Christian had his armour on. Theyoung critic would not allow this as an excuse, and brought up cases ofgentlemen of his acquaintance who had swum incredible distances in theirclothes and boots. 

But the story that delighted him most was that of the man who hacked hisway into the palace. This was an adventure after his own heart. Heread it over and over again, and was unsparing in his admiration of thehero, whom he compared for prowess with "Will Warspite the Pirate, " and"Dick Turpin, " and even his late favourite "Tim Tigerskin. " Hisinterest in him was indeed so great that he allowed Reginald in a fewsimple words to say what it meant, and to explain how we could all, ifwe went the right way about it, do as great things as he did. 

"Why you, youngster, when you made up your mind you wouldn't read anymore of those bad books, you knocked over one of your enemies. "

"Did I, though? how far in did I get?"

"You got over the doorstep, anyhow; but you've got plenty more to knockover before you get right into the place. So have I. "

"My eye, gov'nor, " cried the boy, his grimy face lighting up with anexcited flush, "we'll let 'em 'ave it!"

They read and discussed and argued far into the night; and when at lastReginald gave the order to go to bed there were no two friends moredevoted than the Secretary of the Select Agency Corporation and hisoffice-boy. 

Love's sleep that night was like the sleep of a pugilistic terrier, whoin his dreams encounters and overcomes even deep-mouthed mastiffs andcolossal Saint Bernards. He sniffed and snorted defiance as he lay, andhis brow was damp with the sweat of battle, and his lips curled with thesmile of victory. As soon as he awoke his hand sought the pocket wherethe wonderful book lay; and even as he tidied up the office and preparedthe gov'nor's breakfast, he was engaged in mortal inward combats. 

"Say, gov'nor, " cried he, with jubilant face, as Reginald entered, "I'vedone for another of 'em. Topped him clean over. "

"Another of whom?" said Reginald. 

"Them pals a-waitin' in the 'all, " said he; "you know, in that therepallis. "

"Oh! in the Beautiful Palace we were reading about, " said Reginald. "Who have you done for this time?"

"That there Medlock, " said the boy. 

"Medlock! What _are_ you talking about?" said Reginald, in blankamazement. 

"Oh, I've give him a wonner, " said the boy, beaming. "He says to me, `Collar all the letters your gov'nor writes 'ome, ' he says, `and I'llgive you a tanner for every one you shows me. '"

"Love, you're talking rubbish!" said Reginald indignantly. 

"Are I? don't you make no mistake, " said the boy confidently; "I knowswhat he says; and that there letter you wrote home last night and leaveson the table, `That's a tanner to me, ' says I to myself when I sees itthis morning. `A lie, ' says I, recollecting of that chap in the story-book. So I lets it be; and my eye, ain't that a topper for somebody--ohno!"

Reginald stared at the boy, half stupefied. The room whirled round him;and with a sudden rush the hopes of his life seemed to go from underhim. It was not for some time that he could find words to say, hoarsely, --

"Love, is this the truth, or a lie you are telling me?"

"Lie--don't you make no error, gov'nor--I ain't on that lay, I can tellyou. I'm goin' right into that there pallis, and there's two on 'emtopped a'ready. "

"You mean to say Mr Medlock told you to steal my letters and give themto him?"

"Yes, and a tanner apiece on 'em, too. But don't you be afraid, hedon't get none out of me, not if I swings for it. "

"You can go out for a run, Love, " said Reginald. "Come back in an hour. I want to be alone. "

"You aren't a-giving me the sack?" asked the boy with fallingcountenance. 

"No, no. "

"And you ain't a-goin' to commit soosanside while I'm gone, are yer?" heinquired, with a suspicious glance at Reginald's blanched face. 

"No. Be quick and go. "

"'Cos if you do, they do say as a charcoal fire--"

"Will you go?" said Reginald, almost angrily, and the boy vanished. 

I need not describe to the reader all that passed through the poorfellow's mind as he paced up and down the bare office that morning. Thefloodgates had suddenly been opened upon him, and he felt himselfoverwhelmed in a deluge of doubt and shame and horror. 

It was long before he could collect his thoughts sufficiently to seeanything clearly. Why Mr Medlock should take the trouble to preventhis home letters reaching their destination was incomprehensible, andindeed it weighed little with him beside the fact that the man who hadgiven him his situation, and on whom he was actually depending for hisliving, was the same who could bribe his office-boy to steal hisletters. If he were capable of such a meanness, was he to be trusted inanything else? How was Reginald to know whether the money he hadregularly remitted to him was properly accounted for, or whether theorders were being conscientiously executed?

Then it occurred to him the whole business of the Corporation had beendone in his--Reginald's--name, that all the circulars had been signed byhim, and that all the money had come addressed to him. Then there wasthat awkward mistake about his name, which, accidental or intentional, was Mr Medlock's doing. And beyond all that was the fact that MrMedlock had taken away the only record Reginald possessed of the namesof those who had replied to the circulars and sent money. 

He found himself confronted with a mountain of responsibility, of whichhe had never before dreamed, and for the clearing of which he wasentirely dependent on the good faith of a man who had, not a week ago, played him one of the meanest tricks imaginable. 

What was he to make of it--what else could he make of it except that hewas a miserable dupe, with ruin staring him in the face?

His one grain of comfort was in the names of some of the directors. Unless that list were fictitious, they would not be likely to allow aconcern with which they were identified to collapse in discredit. Wasit genuine or not?

His doubts on this question were very speedily resolved by a letterwhich arrived that very afternoon. 

It was dated London, and ran as follows:--

"Cruden Reginald, Esquire. 

"Sir, --The attention of the Bishop of S-- having been called to theunauthorised, and, as it would appear, fraudulent use of his name inconnection with a company styled the Select Agency Corporation, of whichyou are secretary, I am instructed, before his lordship enters on legalproceedings, to request you to furnish me with your authority for usinghis lordship's name in the manner stated. Awaiting your reply byreturn, I am, sir, yours, etcetera, --

"A. Turner, Secretary. "

This was a finishing stroke to the disillusion. In all his troubles andperplexities the good Bishop of S-- had been a rock to lean on for thepoor secretary. 

But now even that prop was snatched away, and he was left alone in theruins of his own hopes. 

He could see it all at last. As he went back over the whole history ofhis connection with the Corporation he was able to recognise how atevery step he had been duped and fooled; how his very honesty had beenturned to account; how his intelligence had been the one thing dislikedand discouraged. 

And what was to become of him now?

Anything but desert the sinking ship--that question never cost Reginaldtwo thoughts. He would right himself if he could. He would protest hisinnocence of all fraud or connivance at fraud. He would even do what hecould to bring the real offenders to justice; but as long as theCorporation had a creditor left he would be there to face him and sufferthe consequence of his own folly and stupidity. 

Young Love got little sympathy that day in his reading. Indeed, hecould not but notice that something unusual had happened to the"gov'nor, " and that being so, not even the adventures of Christian orthe unexplored marvels of Robinson Crusoe could satisfy him. Hepolished up the furniture half a dozen times, and watched Reginald's eyelike a dog, ready to catch the first sign of a want or a question. Presently he could stand it no longer, and said, --"Say, gov'nor, what'sup? 'taint nothing along of me, are it?"

"No, my boy, " said Reginald. "Is it along of that there Medlock?"Reginald nodded. 

It was well for Mr Medlock that he was not in the room at that moment. 

"I'll top 'im, see if I don't, " muttered the boy; "I owes 'im one forcarting me down 'ere, and I owes 'im four or five now; and you'll see ifI don't go for 'im, gov'nor. "

"You'd better go back to your home, " said Reginald, with a kindly tremorin his voice; "I'm afraid you'll get into trouble by staying with me. "

It was fine to see the flash of scorn in the boy's face as he said, --

"Oh yus, me go 'ome and leave yer! Walker--I stays 'ere. "

"Very well, then, " said Reginald, with a sigh. "We may as well go onwith the book. Suppose you read me about Giant Despair. "

CHAPTER NINETEEN. 

THE SHADES LOSE SEVERAL GOOD CUSTOMERS. 

It would be unfair to Samuel Shuckleford to say that he had nocompunction whatever in deciding upon a course of action which he knewwould involve the ruin of Reginald Cruden. 

He did not like it at all. It was a nuisance; it was a complicationlikely to hamper him. He wished his mother and sister would be lessgushing in the friendships they made. What right had they to interferewith his business prospects by tacking themselves on to the family of aman who was afterwards to turn out a swindler?

Yes, it was a nuisance; but for all that it must not be allowed tointerfere with the course that lay before the rising lawyer. Businessis business after all, and if Cruden is a swindler, whose fault is it ifCruden's mother breaks her heart? Not S. S. 's, at any rate. But S. S. 'sfault it would be if he made a mess of this "big job"! That was areproach no one should lay at his door. 

Samuel may not have been quite the Solomon he was wont to estimatehimself. Still, to do him justice once more, he displayed no littleability in tracing out the different frauds of the Select AgencyCorporation and establishing Reginald's guilt conclusively in his ownmind. 

It all fitted in like a curious puzzle. His sudden mysterious departurefrom London--his change of name--the selection of Liverpool asheadquarters--the distribution of the circulars among unsuspectingschoolmistresses in the south of England--the demand for money to beenclosed with the order--and the fiction of the dispatch of the goodsfrom London. What else could it point to but a deliberate, deeply-laidscheme of fraud? The further Samuel went, the clearer it all appeared, and the less compunction he felt for running to earth such a scoundrel. 

But he was going to do nothing in a hurry. S. S. Was not the man to dishhimself by showing his cards till he was sure he had them all in hishand. Possibly Cruden was not alone in the swindle. He might haveaccomplices. Even his mother and brother--who can answer for theduplicity of human nature?--might know more of his operations than theyprofessed to know. He might have confederates among his old companionsat the _Rocket_, or even among his old school acquaintances. Yes; therewas plenty to go into before Samuel put down his foot, and who knewbetter how to go into it than S. S. ?

So he kept his own counsel, and, except for cautioning his mother andsister to "draw off" from the undesirable connection, and intimidatingthe maid-of-all-work at Number 6, Dull Street, by most horrible threatsof the penalties of the law, to detain and give to him every letterbearing the Liverpool postmark which should from that time forward cometo the house, no matter to whom addressed--for in his zeal it was easyto forget that by such a proceeding he was sailing uncommonly close tothe wind himself--showed no sign of taking any immediate step either inthis or any other matter. 

Had he been aware that one Sniff, of the Liverpool detective police, hadsome days ago arrived, by a series of independent and far more artisticinvestigations, at as much knowledge as he himself possessed of thedoings of the Corporation, Samuel would probably have been content tomake the most of the cards he held before the chance of using them atall had slipped by. 

It is doubtful, however, whether in any case he would have succeeded inforestalling the wary Mr Sniff. That gentleman had discovered in a fewhours what it had taken Samuel days of patient grubbing to unearth. Andhis discoveries would have decidedly astonished the self-complacentlittle practitioner. He would have been astonished, for instance, tohear that the Liverpool post-office had received instructions from theHome Office to hand over every letter addressed to Cruden Reginald, 13, Shy Street, to the police. He would also have been astonished if he hadknown that a detective in plain clothes dined every evening at theShades, near to the table occupied by Mr Durfy and his friends; thatthe hall-porter of Weaver's Hotel was a representative of the police indisguise, and that representatives of the police had called on businessat the _Rocket_ office, had brushed up against Blandford at street-corners, and had even taken the trouble to follow him--SamuelShuckleford--here and there in his evening's perambulations. 

Yes, small job as it was in Mr Sniff's estimation, he knew the way togo about it, and had a very good notion what was the right scent to goon and what the wrong. 

The one thing that did put him out at first was Reginald's absolutelytruthful replies to all the pleasant clergyman's questions. This reallydid bother Mr Sniff. For when a swindler is face to face with hisvictim the very last thing you expect of him is straightforward honesty. So when Reginald had talked about Weaver's Hotel and Mr John Smith, and had mentioned the number of orders that had arrived, and the accountof money that had accompanied them, and had even confided the amount ofhis own salary, Mr Sniff had closed one of his mental eyes and said tohimself, "Yes; we know all about that. "

But when it turned out that, so far from such statements beingfabrications to delude him, they were simply true--when the letterReginald had written to Mr Medlock that very evening lay in his handsand corroborated all he had said--when he himself followed the poorfellow an hour or two later on his errand of mercy, and stood beside himas he spent that precious sixpence over _Robinson Crusoe_ and the_Pilgrim's Progress_, Mr Sniff did feel for a moment disconcerted. 

But, unusual as it was, he made the bold venture of jumping to theconviction of Reginald's innocence; and that theory once started, everything went beautifully. 

On the evening following Mrs Cruden's sudden illness, Mr Durfystrolled down in rather a disconsolate frame of mind towards the Shades. 

Since his expulsion from the _Rocket_ office things had not been goingpleasantly with him. For a day or two he had deemed it expedient tokeep in retirement, and when at last he did venture forth, in the vaguehope of picking up some employment worthy of his talents, he took careto keep clear of the haunts of his former confederates, whom, after hislast failure, he rather dreaded meeting. 

It had been during this period that he had made the acquaintance ofShuckleford, and the prospect of revenge which that intimacy opened tohim was a welcome diversion to the monotony of his existence. 

But prospects of revenge do not fill empty stomachs, and Durfy at theend of a week began to discover that there might be an end even to theprivate resources of the late overseer of an evening newspaper and thepart proprietor of an Agency Corporation. He was, in fact, getting hardup, and therefore, putting his pride in his empty pocket, he strolleddown moodily to the Shades, determined at any rate to have a supper atsomebody else's expense. 

He had not reckoned without his host, for after about half an hour'simpatient kicking of his heels outside, Mr Medlock and Mr Shanklinappeared on the scene, arm in arm. 

They appeared by no means elated at seeing him, but that mattered verylittle to the hungry Durfy, who followed them into the supper-room andtook his seat at the table beside them. If he had been possessed of anysensitiveness, it might have been wounded by the utter indifference, after the first signs of displeasure, they paid to his presence. Theycontinued their conversation as though no third party had been near, andexcept that Mr Medlock nodded when the waiter said "For three?" seemedto see as little of him as Hamlet's mother did of the Ghost. 

However, for the time being that nod of Mr Medlock's was all Durfyparticularly coveted. He was hungry. Time enough to stand on hisdignity when the knife and fork had done their work. 

"Yes, " said Mr Shanklin, "time's up to-day. I've told him where tofind us. If he doesn't, you must go your trip by yourself; I can safelystay and screw my man up. "

"Think he will turn up?"

"Can't say. He seems to be flush enough of money still. "

"Well, he can't say you've not helped him to get rid of it. "

"I've done my best, " said Mr Shanklin, laughing. 

"I shall be glad of a holiday. It's as hard work sponging one fool asit is fleecing a couple of hundred sheep, eh?"

"Well, the wool came off very easily, I must say. I reckon there'll bea clean £500 to divide on the Liverpool business alone. "

"Nice occupation that'll be on the Boulogne steamer to-morrow, " saidMr Shanklin. "Dear me, I hope it won't be rough, I'm such a badsailor!"

"Then, of course, " said Mr Medlock, "there'll be your little takings toadd to that. Your working expenses can't have been much. "

Mr Shanklin laughed again. 

"No. I've done without circulars and a salaried secretary. By the way, do you fancy any one smells anything wrong up in the North yet?"

"Bless you, no. The fellow's pretty near starving, and yet he sent meup a stray £2 he received the other day. It's as good as a play to readthe letters he sends me up about getting the orders executed in strictrotation, as entered in a beautiful register he kept, and which Iborrowed, my boy. Ha! ha! He wants me to run down to Liverpool, hesays, as he's not quite satisfied with his position there. Ho! ho! Andhe'd like a little money on account, as he's had to buy stamps and coalsand all that sort of thing out of his own thirteen shillings a week. It's enough to make one die of laughing, isn't it?"

"It is funny, " said Mr Shanklin. "But you're quite right to be on thesafe side and start to-morrow. You did everything in his name, Isuppose--took the office, ordered the printing, and all that sort ofthing?"

"Oh yes, I took care of that. My name or yours was never mentioned, except mine on the dummy list of directors. That won't hurt. "

"Well, the Corporation's had a short life and a merry one; and yourprecious secretary's likely to have a merry Christmas after it all--unless you'd like to go down and spend it with him, Durfy, " added MrShanklin, taking notice for the first time of the presence of theirvisitor. 

Durfy replied by a scowl. 

"I shall be far enough away by then, " said he. 

"Why, where are you going?"

"I'm going with you, to be sure, " said he, doggedly. 

Messrs. Medlock and Shanklin greeted this announcement with a laugh ofgenuine amusement. 

"I'm glad you told us, " said Mr Shanklin. "We should have forgotten totake a ticket for you. "

"You may grin, " said Durfy. "I'm going, for all that. "

"You're a bigger fool even than you look, " said Mr Medlock, "to thinkso. You can consider yourself lucky to get a supper out of us this lastnight. "

"You forget I can make it precious awkward for you if I like, " growledDurfy. 

"Awkward! _You've_ a right to be a judge of what's awkward after theneat way you've managed things, " sneered Shanklin. "It takes you allyour time to make things awkward for yourself, let alone troubling aboutus. "

Durfy always hated when Mr Shanklin alluded to his blunders, and hescowled all the more viciously now because he felt that, after all, hecould do little against his two patrons which would not recoil withtwofold violence on his own head. No, he had better confine hisreprisals to the Crudens by Mr Shuckleford's assistance, and meanwhilemake what he could out of these ungrateful sharpers. 

"If you don't want me with you, " said he, "you'll have to make it worthmy while to stay away, that's all. You'd think it a fine joke if youfound yourself in the police-station instead of the railway-station to-morrow morning, wouldn't you?"

And Mr Durfy's face actually relaxed into a smile at this flash ofpleasantry. 

"You'd find it past a joke if you found yourself neck-and-crop in thegutter in two minutes, " said Mr Shanklin, in a rage, "as you will do ifyou don't take care. "

"I'll take care for fifty pounds, " said Durfy. "It's precious littleshare I've had out of the business, and if you want me mum, that's whatwill do it. There, I could tell you a thing or two already; you don'tknow--"

"Tush! Durfy, you're a born ass! Come round to my hotel to-morrow ateight, and I'll see what I can do for you, " said Mr Medlock. 

Durfy knew how to value such promises, and did not look by any meansjubilant at the prospect held out. However, at this moment Blandfordand Pillans entered the supper-room, and his hosts had something betterto think about than him. 

He was hustled from his place to make room for the new guests, andsurlily retired to a neighbouring table, where, if he could not hear allthat was said, he could at least see all that went on. 

"Hullo!" said Shanklin gaily, "here's a nice time to turn up, dear boys. Medlock and I have nearly done supper. "

"Couldn't help. We've been to the theatre, haven't we, Pillans?" saidBlandford, who appeared already to be rather the worse for drink. 

"I have. _You've_ been in the bar most of the time, " said Pillans. 

"Ha! ha! I was told Bland was studying for the Bar. I do likeapplication, " said Mr Medlock. 

Blandford seemed to regard this as a compliment, and sitting down at thetable, told the waiter to bring a bottle of champagne and some moreglasses. 

"Well, " he said, with a simper, "what I say I'll do, I'll do. I saidI'd turn up here and pay you that bill, Shanklin, and I have turned up, haven't I?"

"Upon my honour, I'd almost forgotten that bill, " said Mr Shanklin, whohad thought of little else for the last week. "It's not inconvenient, Ihope?"

Blandford laughed stupidly. 

"Sorry if a trifle like that was inconvenient, " said he, with all thelanguor of a millionaire. "Forget what it was about. Some take in, I'll swear. Never mind, a debt's a debt, and here goes. How much isit?"

"Fifty, " said Mr Shanklin. 

Blandford produced a pocket-book with a flourish, and took from it ahandful of notes that made Durfy's eyes, as he sat at the distant table, gleam. The half-tipsy spendthrift was almost too muddled to count themcorrectly, but finally he succeeded in extracting five ten-pound notesfrom the bundle, which he tossed to Shanklin. 

"Thanks, very much, " said that gentleman, putting them in his pocket. "I find I've left your bill at home, but I'll send it round to you inthe morning. "

"Oh, all serene!" said Blandford, putting his pocketbook back into hispocket. "Have another bottle of cham--do--just to celebrate--settling--old scores. Hullo, where are you, Pillans?"

Pillans had gone off to play billiards with Mr Medlock, so Blandfordand Mr Shanklin attacked the bottle themselves. When it was done, theformer rose unsteadily, and, bidding his friend good-night, said hewould go home, as he'd got a headache. Which was about as true anobservation as man ever uttered. 

"Good-night--old--feller, " said he; "see you to-morrow. "

And he staggered out of the place, assisted to the door by Mr Shanklin, who, after an affectionate farewell, sauntered to the billiard-room, where Mr Medlock had already won a five-pound note from the ingenuousMr Pillans. 

"Your friend's in good spirits to-night, " said Mr Shanklin. "Capitalfellow is Bland. "

"So he is, " said Pillans. 

"Capital fellow, with plenty of capital, eh?" said Mr Medlock; "yourshoot, Pillans, and I don't mind going a sov. With you on the cannon. "

Of course Pillans lost his sovereign, as he did several others beforethe game was over. Then, feeling he had had enough enjoyment for oneevening, he said good-bye and followed his friend home. 

But some one else had already followed his friend home. 

Durfy, in whose bosom the glimpse of that well-lined pocket-book hadroused unusual interest, found himself ready to go home a very fewmoments after Blandford had quitted the Shades. It may have been onlycoincidence, or it may have been idle curiosity to see if the tipsy ladcould find his way home without an accident, or it may have been alaudable determination that, no one should take advantage of hishelpless condition to deprive him of that comfortable pocket-book. Whatever it was, Durfy followed the reeling figure along the pavement asit threaded its way westward from the Shades. 

Blandford may have had reason enough left to tell him that it would bebetter for his headache to walk in the night air than to take a cab, andMr Durfy highly approved of the decision. He was able withoutdifficulty or obtrusiveness to follow his man at a few yards' distance, and even give proof of his solicitude by an occasional steadying hand onhis arm. 

Presently the wanderer turned out of the crowded thoroughfare up a by-street, where he had the pavement more to himself. Indeed, except for afew stragglers hurrying home from theatres or concerts, he encounteredno one; and as he penetrated farther beyond the region of public housesand tobacco-shops into the serener realms of offices and chambers, andbeyond that into the solitude of a West-end square, not a footstep savehis own and that of his escort broke the midnight silence. 

Durfy's heart beat fast, for he had a heart to beat on occasions likethis. A hundred chances on which he had never calculated suddenlypresented themselves. What if some one might be peering out into thenight from one of the black windows of those silent houses? Supposesome motionless policeman under the shadow of a wall were near enough tosee and hear! Suppose the cool night air had already done its work andsobered the wayfarer enough to render him obstinate or even dangerous!He seemed to walk more steadily. If anything was to be done, everymoment was of consequence. And the risk?

The vision of that pocket-book and the crisp white notes flashed acrossDurfy's memory by way of answer. 

Yes, to Durfy, the outcast, the dupe, the baffled adventurer, the riskwas worth running. 

He quickened his step and opened the blade of the penknife in his pocketas he did so. Not that he meant to use it, but in case--

Faugh! the fellow was staggering as helplessly as ever! He never evenheeded the pursuing steps, but reeled on, muttering to himself, nowclose to the palings, now on the kerb, his hat back on his head and thecigar between his lips not even alight. 

Durfy crept silently behind, and with a sudden dash locked one armtightly round his victim's neck, while with the other he made a swiftdive at the pocket where lay the coveted treasure. 

It was all so quickly done that before Blandford could exclaim or evengasp the pocket-book was in the thief's hands. Then as the arm roundhis neck was relaxed, he faced round, terribly sobered, and made a wildspring at his assailant. 

"Thief!" he shouted, making the quiet square ring and ring again withthe echo of that word. 

His hand was upon Durfy's collar, so fiercely that nothing but a hand-to-hand struggle could release its grip; unless--

Durfy's hand dropped to his pocket. There was a flash and a scream, andnext moment Blandford was clinging, groaning, to the railings of thesquare, while Durfy's footsteps died away in the gloomy mazes of anetwork of back streets. 

When Pillans got home to his lodgings that night he found his comrade inbed with a severe wound in the shoulder, unable to give any account ofhimself but that he had been first garotted, then robbed, and finallystabbed, on his way home from the Shades. 

Mr Durfy did not present himself at Mr Medlock's hotel at theappointed hour next morning. 

Nor, although it was a fine calm day, and their luggage was all packedup and labelled, did Mr Medlock and his friend Mr Shanklin succeed inmaking their promised trip across the Channel. A deputation of policeawaited them on the Victoria platform, and completely disconcerted theirarrangements by taking them in a cab to the nearest police-station on acharge of fraud and conspiracy. 

CHAPTER TWENTY. 

SAMUEL SHUCKLEFORD FINDS VIRTUE ITS OWN REWARD. 

It was just as well for Horace's peace of mind, during his time ofanxious watching, that two short paragraphs in the morning papers of thefollowing day escaped his observation. 

"At--police-court yesterday, two men named Medlock and Shanklin werebrought before the magistrate on various charges of fraud connected withsham companies in different parts of the country. After some formalevidence they were remanded for a week, bail being refused. "

"A youth named Reginald was yesterday charged at Liverpool withconspiracy to defraud by means of fictitious circulars addressed in thename of a trading company. He was remanded for three days without bail, pending inquiries. "

It so happened that it fell to Booms's lot to cut the latter paragraphout. And as he was barely aware of the existence of Cruden's brother, and in no case would have recognised him by his assumed name, the news, even if he read it, could have conveyed no intelligence to his mind. 

Horace certainly did not read it. Even when he had nothing better todo, he always regarded newspapers as a discipline not to be meddled without of office hours. And just now, with his mother lying in a criticalcondition, and with no news day after day of Reginald, he had moreserious food for reflection than the idle gossip of a newspaper. 

The only other person in London whom the news could have interested wasSamuel Shuckleford. But as he was that morning riding blithely in thetrain to Liverpool, reading the _Law Times_, and flattering himself hewould soon make the public "sit up" to a recognition of his astuteness, he saw nothing of them. 

He found himself on the Liverpool platform just where, scarcely threemonths ago, Reginald had found himself that dreary afternoon of hisarrival. But, unlike Reginald, it cost the young ornament of the lawnot a moment's hesitation as to whether he should take a cab or not tohis destination. If only the cabman knew whom he had the honour tocarry, how he would touch up his horse!

"Shy Street. Put me down at the corner, " said Samuel, swinging himselfinto the hansom. 

So this was Liverpool. He had never been there before, and consequentlyit was not to be wondered at that the crowds jostling by on thepavement, without so much as a glance in his direction, neither knew himnor had heard of him. He could forgive them, and smiled to think howdifferent it would be in a few days, when all the world would point athim as he drove back to the station, and say, --

"There goes Shuckleford, the clever lawyer, who first exposed the SelectAgency Corporation, don't you know?"

Don't you know? What a question to ask respecting S. S. !

At the corner of Shy Street he alighted, and sauntered gently down thestreet, keeping a sharp look-out on both sides of him, without appearingto regard anything but the pavement. 

Humph! The odd numbers were on the left side, so S. S. Would walk on theright, and get a good survey of Number 13 from a modest distance. 

What, thought he, would the precious Cruden Reginald (ha! ha!) think ifhe knew who was walking down the other side of the road?

Ah! he was getting near it now. Here was 17, a baker's; 15, agreengrocer's; and 13--eh? a chemist's? Ah, yes, he noticed that thefirst floors of all the shops were let for offices, and the first floorof the chemist's shop was the place he wanted. 

He could see through the grimy window the top rail of a chair-back andthe corner of a table, on which stood an inkpot and a tattereddirectory. No occupant of the room was visible; doubtless he found itprudent to keep away from the window; or he might possibly have seen thefigure of S. S. Advancing down the street. 

Samuel crossed over. No name was on the chemist's side-door, but itstood ajar, and he pushed it open and peered up the gloomy staircase. There was a name on the door at the top, so he crept stealthily up thestairs to decipher the word "Medlock" in dim characters on the plate. 

"Medlock!" Ho! ho! He was getting warm now. Not only was his mangoing about with his own name turned inside out, but he had theeffrontery to stick up the name of one of his own directors on his door!

Samuel knew Mr Medlock--whom didn't he know? He had been introduced tohim by Durfy, and had supped with him once at the Shades. A nice, pleasant-spoken gentleman, who had made some very complimentary littlespeeches about Samuel in Samuel's own hearing. This was the man whosename Cruden had borrowed for his door-plate, in the hope of furthermystifying the public as to his own personality!

Ah! ah! He might mystify the public, but there was one whose initialswere S. S. Whom it would need a cleverer cheat than Cruden Reginald, Esquire, to mystify!

He listened for a moment at the door, and, hearing no sound, made boldto enter. Had Reginald been in, he was prepared to represent that, being on a chance visit to Liverpool, he had been unable to pass thedoor of an old neighbour without giving him a friendly call. 

But he was not put to this shift, for the room was empty. "Gone out tohis dinner, I suppose, " said Sam to himself. "Well, I'll take a goodlook round while I am here. "

Which he proceeded to do, much to his own satisfaction, but very littleto his information, for scarcely a torn-up envelope was to be found toreward the spy for his trouble. The only thing that did attract hisattention as likely to be remotely useful was a fragment of a pink paperwith the letters "gerskin" on it--a relic Love would have recognised aspart of the cover of an old favourite, but which to the inquiring mindof the lawyer appeared to be a document worth impounding in theinterests of justice. 

As nobody appeared after the lapse of half an hour, Samuel consideredhis time was being wasted, and therefore withdrew. He looked into thechemist's shop as he went down, but the chemist was not at home; so hestrolled into the greengrocer's next door, and bought an orange, whichhe proceeded to consume, making himself meanwhile cunningly agreeable tothe lady who presided over the establishment. 

"Fine Christmas weather, " said he, looking up in the middle of aprolonged suck. 

"Yes, " said the lady. 

"Plenty of customers?"

She shrugged her shoulders. Sam might interpret that as he liked. 

"I suppose you supply the Corporation next door?" said Sam, digging hiscountenance once more into the orange. 

"Eh?" said the lady. 

"The--what's-his-name?--Mr Reginald--I suppose he deals with you?"

"He did, if you want to know. "

"I thought so--a friend of mine, you know. "

"Oh, is he?" said the lady, finding words at last, and bridling up in away that astonished her cross-examiner; "then the sooner you go and walkoff after him the better!"

"Oh, very well, " said Sam. "He's not at home just now, though. "

"Oh, ain't he?" said the woman, "that's funny!"

"Why, what do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing--what should I? If you're a friend of his, you'd bettertake yourself off! That's what I mean. "

"All right; no offence, old lady. Perhaps he's come in by this time. "

The lady laughed disagreeably. The Corporation had bought coals of herthree months ago. 

Samuel returned to the office, but it was as deserted as ever. Hetherefore resolved to try what his blandishments could do with thechemist's boy downstairs in the way of obtaining information. 

That young gentleman, as the reader will remember, had been a bosomfriend of Love in his day, and was animated to some extent by the spiritof his comrade. 

"Hullo, my man!" said Sam, walking into the shop. "Governor's out, then?"

"Yus. "

"Got any lollipops in those bottles?"

"Yus. "

"Any brandy-balls?"

"No. "

"Any acid-drops?"

"Yus. "

"I'll take a penn'orth, then. I suppose you don't know when thegentleman upstairs will be back?"

The boy stopped short in his occupation and stared at Sam. 

"What gentleman?" he asked. 

"Mr Medlock, is it? or Reginald, or some name like that?"

"Oh yus, I do!" said the boy, with a grin. 

"When?"

"Six months all but a day. That's what I reckon. "

"Six months! Has he gone away, then?"

"Oh no--he was took off. "

"Took off--you don't mean to say he's dead?"

"Oh, ain't you a rum 'un! As if you didn't know he's been beaked. "

"Beaked! what's that?"

The boy looked disgusted at the fellow's obtuseness. 

"'Ad up in the p'lice-court, of course. What else could I mean?"

Samuel jumped off his stool as if he had been electrified. 

"What do you say?" said he, gaping wildly at the boy. 

"Go on; if you're deaf, it's no use talkin' to you. He's been up in thep'lice-court, " said he, raising his voice to a shout. "Yesterday--thereyou are--and there's your drops, and you ain't give me the penny forthem. "

Samuel threw down the penny, and, too excited to take up the drops, dashed out into the street. 

What! yesterday--while he was lounging about town, fancying he had thegame all to himself. Was ever luck like his?

He rushed to a shop and bought a morning paper. There, sure enough, wasa short notice of yesterday's proceedings, and you might have knockedS. S. Down with a feather as he read it. 

"Anyhow, " said he to himself, crumpling up the paper in sheer vexation, "they won't be able to do without me, I'll take care of that. I cantell them all about it--but catch me doing it now, the snobs, unlessthey're civil. "

With which valiant determination he swung himself into another cab, andordered the man to drive to the head police-station. 

The inspector was not in, but his second-in-command was, and to him, much against his will, Samuel had to explain his business. 

"Well, what do you know about the prisoner?" asked the official. 

"Oh, plenty. You'd better subpoena me for the next examination, " saidSam. 

The sub-inspector smiled. 

"You're like all the rest of them, " he said, "think you know all aboutit. Come, let's hear what you've got to say, young fellow; there'splenty of work to be done here, I can tell you, without dawdling ourtime. "

"Thank you, " said Sam, "I'd sooner tell the magistrate. "

"Go and tell the magistrate then!" shouted the official, "and don't stayblocking up the room here. "

This was not what Samuel expected. There was little chance of themagistrate being more impressed with his importance than a sub-inspector. So he felt the only thing for it was to bring himself to theunpleasant task of showing his cards after all. 

"The fact is--" he began. 

"If you're going to say what you know about the case, I'll listen toyou, " said the sub-inspector, interrupting him, "if not, go and talk inthe street. "

"I am going to say what I know, " said the crestfallen Sam. 

"Very well. It's a pity you couldn't do it at first, " said theofficial, getting up and standing with his back turned, warming hishands at the fire. 

Under these depressing circumstances Samuel began his story, showing hisweakest cards first, and saving up his trumps as long as he could. Thesub-inspector listened to him impassively, rubbing his hands, andwarming first one toe and then the other in the fender. 

At length it was all finished, and he turned round. 

"That's all you know?"

"Yes--at present--I expect to discover more, though, in a day or two. "

"Just write your name and address on one of those envelopes, " said thesub-inspector, pointing to a stationery case on his table. 

Sam obeyed, and handed the address to the official. 

"Very well, " said the latter, folding the paper up without looking atit, and putting it into his waistcoat pocket, "if we want you, we'llfetch you. "

"I suppose I had better put my statement down in writing?" said Samuel, making a last effort at pomposity. 

"Can if you like, " said the sub-inspector, yawning, "when you've nothingelse to do. "

And he ended the conference by calling to a constable outside to tell190 C he might come in. 

Grievously crestfallen, Samuel withdrew, bemoaning the hour when hefirst heard the name of Cruden, and was fool enough to dirty his handswith a "big job. " What else was he to expect when once these officialsnobs took a thing up? Of course they would put every obstacle andhumiliation in the way of an outsider that jealousy could suggest. Hehad very little doubt that this sub-inspector, the moment his back wasturned, would sit down and make notes of his information, and then takeall the credit of it to himself. Never mind, they were bound to wanthim when the trial came on, and wouldn't he just show up their tricks!Oh no! S. S. Wasn't going to be flouted and snubbed for nothing, hecould tell them, and so they'd discover. 

It was no use staying in Liverpool, that was clear. The Liverpoolpolice should have the pleasure of fetching him all the way from Londonwhen they wanted him; and possibly, with Durfy's aid, he might succeedin getting hold of another trump-card meanwhile to turn up when theyleast expected it. 

The journey south next day was less blithe and less occupied with the_Law Times_ than the journey north had been. But as he got farther awayfrom inhospitable Liverpool his spirits revived, and before London wasreached he was once more in imagination "the clever lawyer, Shuckleford, don't you know, who gave the Liverpool police a slap in the face overthat Agency Corporation business, don't you know. "

Two "don't you knows" this time!

On reaching home, any natural joy he might be expected to feel on beingrestored to the bosom of his family was damped by the discovery that hismother was that very moment in next door relieving guard with Miss Crispat the bedside of Mrs Cruden. 

"What business has she to do it when I told her not?" demanded Samwrathfully of his sister. 

"She's not bound to obey you, " said Jemima; "she's your mother. "

"She is. And a nice respectable mother, too, to go mixing with a lot oflow, swindling jail-birds! It's sickening!"

"You've no right to talk like that, Sam, " said Jemima, flushing up;"they're as honest as you are--more so, perhaps. There!"

"Go it; say on, " said Samuel. "All I can tell you is, if you don't bothof you turn the Cruden lot up, I'll go and live in lodgings by myself. "

"Why should we turn them or anybody up for you, I should like to know?"said Jemima, with a toss of her head. "What have they done to you?"

"You're an idiot, " said Sam, "or you wouldn't talk bosh. Your dearReginald--"

"Well, what about him?" said Jemima, her trembling lip betraying theinward flutter with which she heard the name. 

"How would you like to know your precious Reginald was this moment inprison?"

"What!" shrieked Jemima, with a clutch at her brother's arm. 

He was glad to see there was some one he could make "sit up, " andreplied, with brutal directness, --

"Yes--in prison, I tell you; charged with swindling and theft ever sincehe set foot in Liverpool. There, if that's not reason enough forturning them up, I give you up. You can tell mother so, and say I'mdown at the club, and she'd better leave supper up for me; do you hear?"

Jemima did not hear. She sat rocking herself in her chair, and sobbingas if her heart would break. Vulgar young person as she was, she had aheart, and, quite apart from everything else, the thought of thecalamity which had befallen the fatherless family was in itself enoughto move her deep pity; but when to that was added her own strange butconstant affection for Reginald himself, despite all his aversion toher, it was a blow that fell heavily upon her. 

She would not believe Reginald was guilty of the odious crimes Sam hadso glibly catalogued; but guilty or not guilty, he was in prison, and itis only due to the honest, warm-hearted Jemima to say that she wished ahundred times that wretched evening that she could be in his place. 

But could nothing be done? She knew it was no use trying to extract anymore particulars from Samuel. As it was, she guessed only too trulythat he would be raging with himself for telling her so much. Hermother could do nothing. She would probably fly with the news to MrsCruden's bedside, and possibly kill her outright. 

Horace! She might tell him, but she was afraid. The news would fall onhim like a thunderbolt, and she dreaded being the person to inflict theblow. Yet he ought to knew, even if it doubled his misery and ended inno good to Reginald. Suppose she wrote to him. 

At that moment a knock came at the door, followed by the entrance ofBooms in all the gorgeousness of his evening costume. He frequentlydropped in like this, especially since Mrs Cruden's illness, to hearhow she was, and to inquire after Miss Crisp; and this was his errandthis evening. 

"No better, I suppose?" said he, dolefully, sitting down very slowly byreason of the tightness of his garments. 

"Yes, the doctor says she's better; a little, a very little, " saidJemima. 

"And _she_, of course she's quite knocked up?" said he, with a groan. 

"No. Miss Crisp's taking a nap, that's all; and mother's keeping watchnext door. "

Booms sat very uncomfortably, not knowing what fresh topic to discourseon. But an inspiration seized him presently. 

"Oh, I see you're crying, " he said. "You're in trouble, too. "

"So I am, " said Jemima. 

"Something I've done, I suppose?" said Booms. 

"No, it isn't. It's about--about the Crudens. "

"Oh, of course. What about them?"

"Well, isn't it bad enough they have this dreadful trouble?" saidJemima; "but it isn't half the trouble they really are in. "

"You know I can't understand what you mean when you talk like that, "said Booms. 

"Will you promise, if I tell you, to keep it a secret?"

"Oh, of course. I hate secrets, but go on. "

"Oh, Mr Booms, Mr Reginald is in prison at Liverpool, on a charge--afalse charge, I'm certain--of fraud. Isn't it dreadful? And Mr Horaceought to know of it. Could you break it to him?"

"How can I keep it a secret and break it to him?" said Mr Booms, in apained tone. "Oh yes, I'll try, if you like. "

"Oh, thank you. Do it very gently, and be sure not to let my mother, orhis, or anybody else hear of it, won't you?"

"I'll try. Of course every one will put all the blame on me if it doesspread. "

"No, I won't. Do it first thing to-morrow, won't you, Mr Booms?"

"Oh yes"; and then, as if determined to be in time for the interview, headded, "I'd better go now. "

And he departed very like a man walking to the gallows. 

Shuckleford returned at midnight, and found the supper waiting for him, but, to his relief, neither of the ladies. 

He wrote the following short note before he partook of his eveningmeal:--

"Dear D. , --Come round first thing in the morning. The police havedished us for once, but we'll be quits with them if we put our headstogether. Be sure and come. Yours, S. S. "

After having posted this eloquent epistle with his own hand at thepillar-box he returned to his supper, and then went, somewhat dejected, to bed. 

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. 

REGINALD FINDS HIMSELF "DISMISSED WITH A CAUTION. "

There is a famous saying of a famous modern poet which runs--

"Sudden the worst turns the best to the brave. "

And so it was with Reginald Cruden when finally the whole bitter truthof his position broke in upon his mind. If the first sudden shock drovehim into the dungeon of Giant Despair, a night's quiet reflection, andthe consciousness of innocence within, helped him to shake off thefetters, and emerge bravely and serenely from the crisis. 

He knew he had nothing to be proud of--nothing to excuse his own follyand shortsightedness--nothing to flatter his self-esteem; but no onecould accuse him of dishonour, or point the finger of shame in his way. So he rose next morning armed for the worst. 

What that would be he could not say, but whatever it was he would faceit, confident in his own integrity and the might of right to clear him. 

He endeavoured, in a few words, to explain the position of affairs toLove, who was characteristically quick at grasping it, and suggesting aremedy. 

"That there Medlock's got to be served, and no error!" he said. "I'llmurder 'im!"

"Nonsense!" said Reginald; "you can't make things right by doing wrongyourself. And you know you wouldn't do such a thing. "

"Do I know? Tell you I would, gov'nor! I'd serve him just like thatthere 'Pollyon in the book. Or else I'd put rat p'ison in his beer, and--my! wouldn't it be a game to see the tet'nus a-comin' on 'im, and--"

"Be quiet, " said Reginald; "I won't allow you to talk like that. It'sas bad as the _Tim Tigerskin_ days, Love, and we've both done withthem. "

"You're right there!" said the boy, pulling his _Pilgrim's Progress_from his pocket. "My! don't I wish I had the feller to myself in theSlough o' Despond! Wouldn't I 'old 'is 'ead under! Oh no, not me!None o' yer Mr 'Elpses to give 'im a leg out, if I knows it!"

"Perhaps he'll get punished enough without us, " said Reginald. "Itwouldn't do us any good to see him suffering. "

"Wouldn't it, though? Would me, I can tell yer!" said theuncompromising Love. 

It was evidently hopeless to attempt to divert his young champion's mindinto channels of mercy. Reginald therefore, for lack of anything elseto do, suggested to him to go on with the reading aloud, a command theboy obeyed with alacrity, starting of his own accord at the beginning ofthe book. So the two sat there, and followed their pilgrim through theperils and triumphs of his way, each acknowledging in his heart thespell of the wonderful story, and feeling himself a braver man for everystep he took along with the valiant Christian. 

The morning went by and noon had come, and still the boy read on, untilheavy footsteps on the stairs below startled them both, and sent a quickflush into Reginald's cheeks. 

It needed no divination to guess what it meant, and it was almost with asigh of relief that he saw the door open and a policeman enter. 

He rose to his feet and drew himself up as the man approached. 

"Is your name Cruden Reginald?" said the officer. 

"No; it's Reginald Cruden. "

"You call yourself Cruden Reginald?"

"I have done so; yes. "

"Then I must trouble you to come along with me, young gentleman. "

"Very well, " said Reginald, quietly. "What am I charged with?"

"Conspiracy to defraud, that's what's on the warrant. Are you readynow?"

"Yes, quite ready. Where are you going to take me?"

"Well, we shall have to look in at the station on our way, and then goon to the police-court. Won't take long. Bound to remand you, youknow, for a week or something like that, and then you'll get committed, and the assizes are on directly after the new year, so three weeks fromnow will see it all over. "

The man talked in a pleasant, civil way, in a tone as if he quitesupposed Reginald might be pleased to hear the programme arranged on hisbehalf. 

"We'd better go, " said Reginald, moving towards the door. 

His face was very white and determined. But there was a tell-talequiver in his tightly-pressed lips which told that he needed all hiscourage to help him through the ordeal before him. Till this moment thethought of having to walk through Liverpool in custody had not enteredinto his calculations, and he recoiled from it with a shiver. 

"I needn't trouble you with these, " said the policeman, taking a pair ofhandcuffs from his pocket; "not yet, anyhow. "

"Oh no. I'll come quite quietly. "

"All right. I've my mate below. You can walk between. Hulloa!"

This last exclamation was addressed to Master Love, who, havingwitnessed thus much of the interview in a state of stupefiedbewilderment, now recovered his presence of mind sufficiently to make afurious dash at the burly policeman. 

"Do you hear? Let him be; let my governor go. He ain't done nothink toyou or nobody. It's me, I tell yer. I've murdered dozens, do you 'ear?and robbed the till, and set the Manshing 'Ouse o' fire, do you 'ear?You let 'im go. It's me done it!"

And he accompanied the protest with such a furious kick at thepoliceman's leg that that functionary grew very red in the face, andmaking a grab at the offender, seized him by the collar. 

"Don't hurt him, please, " said Reginald. "He doesn't mean any harm. "

"Tell you it's me, " cried the boy, trembling in the grasp of the law, "me and that there Medlock. My gov'nor ain't done it. "

"Hush, be quiet, Love, " said Reginald. "It'll do no good to make anoise. It can't be helped. Good-bye. "

The boy fairly broke down, and began to blubber piteously. 

Reginald, unmanned enough as it was, had not the heart to wait longer, and walked hurriedly to the door, followed by the policeman. Thismovement once more raised the faithful Love to a final effort. 

"Let 'im go, do you 'ear?" shouted he, rushing down the stairs afterthem. "I'll do for yer if you don't. Oh, guv'nor, take me too, can'tyer?"

But Reginald could only steel his heart for once, and feign not to hearthe appeal. 

The other policeman was waiting outside, and between his two custodianshe walked, sick at heart, and faltering in courage, longing only to getout of the reach of the curious, critical eyes that turned on him fromevery side, and beyond the sound of that pitiful whimper of the faithfullittle friend as it followed him step by step to the very door of thepolice-station. 

At the station Mr Sniff awaited the party with a pleasant smile ofwelcome. 

"That's right, " said he to Reginald, encouragingly; "much better to comequietly, looks better. Look here, young fellow, " he added, rather moreconfidentially, "the first question you'll be asked is whether you'reguilty or not. Take my advice, and make a clean breast of it. "

"I shall say not guilty, which will be the truth. "

Mr Sniff, as the reader has been told, had already come to the sameconclusion. Still, it being the rule of his profession always to assumea man to be guilty till he can prove himself innocent, he felt it was nobusiness of his to assist the magistrate in coming to the decision bystating what he _thought_. All he had to do was to state what he_knew_, and meanwhile, if the prisoner choose to simplify matters bypleading guilty, well, why shouldn't he?

"Please yourself about that. Have you made your entries, Jones? Thevan will be here directly. See you later on, " added he, nodding toReginald. 

Reginald waited there for the van like a man in a dream. People came inand out, spoke, laughed, looked about them, even mentioned his name. But they all seemed part of some curious pageant, of which he himselfformed not the least unreal portion. His mind wandered off on a hundredlittle insignificant topics. Snatches of the _Pilgrim's Progress_ cameinto his mind, half-forgotten airs of music crossed his memory, thevision of young Gedge as he last saw him fleeted before his eyes. Hetried in vain to collect his thoughts, but they were hopelessly astray, leaving him for the time barely conscious, and wholly uninterested inwhat was taking place around him. 

The van came at last, a vehicle he had often eyed curiously as itrumbled past him in the streets. Little had he ever dreamed of ridingone day inside it. 

The usual knot of loungers waited at the door of the police-court to seethe van disgorge its freight. Sometimes they had been rewarded fortheir patience by the glimpse of a real murderer, or wife-kicker, orburglar, and sometimes they had had their bit of fun over a "toughcustomer, " who, if he must travel at her Majesty's expense, wasdetermined to travel all the way, and insisted on being carried by thearms and legs across the pavement into the tribunal of justice. Therewas no such fun to be got out of Reginald as he stepped hurriedly fromthe van, and with downcast eyes entered by the prisoners' door into thecourt-house. 

A case was already in progress, and he had to wait in a dimly-litunderground lobby for his summons. The constable who had arrested himwas still beside him, and other groups, mostly of police, filled up theplace. But he heeded none, longing--oh! how intensely--to hear his namecalled and to know the worst. 

Presently there was a bustle near the door, and he knew the caseupstairs was at an end. 

"Six months, " some one said. 

Some one else whistled softly. 

"Whew--old Fogey's in one of his tantrums, then. He'd have only gotthree at Dark Street. "

Then some one called the name "Reginald, " and the policeman near himsaid "Coming. " Then, turning to the prisoner, he said, --

"Fogey's on the bench to-day, and he's particular. Look alive. "

Reginald found himself being hurried to the door through a lane ofofficials and others towards the stairs. 

"Your turn next, Grinder, " he heard some one say as he passed. "Ten-minutes will do this case. "

To Reginald the stairs seemed interminable. There was a hum of voicesabove, and a shuffling of feet as of people taking a momentaryrelaxation in the interval of some performance. Then a loud voicecried, "Silence--order in the court, sit down, gentlemen, " and therefell an unearthly stillness on the place. 

"To the right, " said the policeman, coming beside him, and taking hisarm as if to direct him. 

He was conscious of a score of curious faces turned on him, of some oneon the bench folding up a newspaper and adjusting his glasses, of a manat a table throwing aside a quill pen and taking another, of a click ofa latch closing behind him, of a row of spikes in front of him. Then hefound himself alone. 

What followed he scarcely could tell. He was vaguely aware of some onewith Mr Sniff's voice making a statement in which his (Reginald's) ownname occurred, another voice from the bench breaking in every now andthen, and yet another voice from the table talking too, accompanied bythe squeaking of a pen across paper. Then the constable who hadarrested him said something, and after the constable some one else. 

Then followed a dialogue in undertone between the bench and the table, and once more Mr Sniff's voice, and at last the voice from the bench, agruff, unsympathetic voice, said, --

"Now, sir, what have you got to say for yourself?"

The question roused him. It was intended for him, and he awoke to theconsciousness that, after all, he had some interest in what was goingon. 

He raised his head and said, --

"I'm not guilty. "

"You reserve your defence, then?"

"Tell him yes, " said the policeman. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Very well, then. I shall remand you for three days. Bring him upagain on Friday. "

And the magistrate took up his newspaper, the clerk at the table layingdown his pen; the bustle and shuffling of feet filled the room, and inanother moment Reginald was down the staircase, and the voice he hadheard before called, --

"Remand three days. Now then, Grinder, up you go--"

In all his conjectures as to what might befall him, the possibility ofbeing actually sent to prison had never entered Reginald's head. Thathe would be suspected, arrested, taken to the police-station, andfinally brought before a magistrate, he had foreseen. That was badenough, but he had steeled his resolution to the pitch of going throughwith it, sure that the clearing of his character would follow anyinquiry into the case. 

But to be lodged for three days as a common felon in a police cell was afate he had not once realised, and which, when its full meaning brokeupon him, crushed the spirit out of him. 

He made no resistance, no protest, no complaint as they hustled him backinto the van, and from the van to the cell which was to be his drearylodging for those three days. He felt degraded, dishonoured, disgraced, and as he sat hour after hour brooding over his lot, his mind, alreadyoverwrought, lost its courage and let go its hope. 

Suppose he really had done something to be ashamed of? Suppose he hadall along had his vague suspicions of the honesty of the Corporation, and yet had continued to serve them? Suppose, with the best ofintentions, he had shut his eyes wilfully to what he might and must haveseen? Suppose, in fact, his negligence had been criminal? How was heever to hold up his head again and face the world like an honest man, and say he had defrauded no man?

And then there came up in terrible array that long list of customers tothe Corporation whom he had lured and enticed by promises he had nevertaken the trouble to inquire into to part with their money. And theburden of their loss lay like an incubus on his spirit, till he actuallypersuaded himself he was guilty. 

I need not sadden the reader with dwelling on the misery of those threedays. Any one almost could have endured them better than Reginald. Hebegan a letter to Horace, but he tore it up when half-written. He drewup a statement of his own defence, but when fact after fact appeared inarray on the paper it seemed more like an indictment than a defence, andhe tore it up too. 

At length the weary suspense was over, and once more he found himself inthe outer air, stepping with almost familiar tread across the pavementinto the van, and taking his place among the waiters in the dim lobby atthe foot of the police-court stairs. 

When at last he stood once more in the dock none of his formerbewilderment remained to befriend him. It was all too real this time. When some one spoke of the "prisoner" he knew it meant himself, and whenthey spoke of fraud he knew they referred to something he had done. Oh, that he could see it all in a dream once more, and wake up to findhimself on the other side!

"Now, Mr Sniff, you've got something to say?" said the magistrate. 

"Yes, your worship, " replied Mr Sniff, not moving to the witness-box, but speaking from his seat. "We don't propose to continue this case. "

"What? It's a clear case, isn't it?" said the magistrate, with the airof a man who is being trifled with. 

"No, your worship. There's not evidence enough to ask you to send theprisoner to trial. "

"Then I'd better sentence him myself. "

"I think not, your worship. Our evidence only went to show that theprisoner was in the employment of the men who started the company. Butwe have no evidence that he was aware that the concern was fraudulent, and as he does not appear to have appropriated any of the money, weadvise dismissing the case. The real offenders are in custody, and havepractically admitted their guilt. "

The magistrate looked very ill-tempered and offended. He did not likebeing told what he was told, especially by the police, and he had arighteous horror of cases being withdrawn from his authority. 

He held a snappish consultation with his clerk, which by no means tendedto pacify him, for that functionary whispered his opinion that as thecase had been withdrawn there was nothing for it but for his worship todismiss the case. 

Somebody, at any rate, should smart for his injured feelings, and as hedid not know law enough to abuse Mr Sniff, and had not pretextsufficient to abuse his clerk, he gathered himself for a castigation ofthe prisoner, which should not only serve as a caution to that youth forhis future guidance, but should also relieve his own magisterial mind. 

"Now, prisoner, " began he, setting his spectacles and leaning forward inhis seat, "you've heard what the officer has said. You may consideryourself fortunate--very fortunate--there is not enough evidence toconvict you. Don't flatter yourself that a breakdown in the prosecutionclears your character. In the eyes of the law you may be clear, butmorally, let me tell you, you are far from being so. It's affectationto tell me you could live for three months the centre of a system offraud and yet have your hands clean. You must make good your accountbetween your own conscience and the hundreds of helpless, unfortunatepoor men and women you have been the means of depriving of their hard-earned money. You have already been kept in prison for three days. Letme hope that will be a warning to you not to meddle in future withfraud, if you wish to pass as an honest man. If you touch pitch, sir, you must expect to be denied. Return to paths of honesty, young man, and seek to recover the character you have forfeited, and bear in mindthe warning you have had, if you wish to avoid a more serious stain inthe future. The case is dismissed. "

With which elegant peroration the magistrate, much relieved in his ownmind, took up his newspaper, and Reginald was hurried once more downthose steep stairs a free man. 

"Slice of luck for you, young shaver!" said the friendly policeman, slipping off the handcuffs. 

"Regular one of Sniff's little games!" said another standing near; "healways lets his little fish go when he's landed his big ones! To mymind it's a risky business. Never mind. "

"You can go when you like now, " said the policeman to Reginald; "andwhenever we come across a shilling for a drink we'll drink your health, my lad. "

Reginald saw the hint, and handed the policeman one of his lastshillings. Then, buttoning his coat against the cold winter wind, hewalked out, a free man, into the street. 

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. 

THE DARKEST HOUR BEFORE THE DAWN. 

If the worshipful magistrate flattered himself that the reprimand he hadaddressed to Reginald that afternoon would move his hearer to self-abasement or penitence, he had sadly miscalculated the power of his ownlanguage. 

Every word of that "caution" had entered like iron into the boy's soul, and had roused in him every evil passion of which his nature wascapable. A single word of sympathy or kindly advice might have won himheart and soul. But those stinging, brutal sentences goaded him almostto madness, and left him desperate. 

What was the use of honesty, of principle, of conscientiousness, if theywere all with one accord to rise against him and degrade him?

What was the use of trying to be better than others when the result wasan infamy which, had he been a little more greedy or a little lessupright, he might have avoided?

What was the use of conscious innocence and unstained honour, when theycould not save him from a sense of shame of which no convicted feloncould know the bitterness?

It would go out to all the world that Reginald Cruden, the suspectedswindler, had been "let off" for lack of evidence after three days'imprisonment. The victims of the Corporation would read it, and regretthe failure of justice to overtake the man who had robbed them. Hisfather's old county friends would read it, and shake their heads overpoor Cruden's prodigal. The Wilderham fellows would read it, and sethim down as one more who had gone to the bad. Young Gedge would readit, and scorn him for a hypocrite and a humbug. Durfy would read it, and chuckle. His mother and Horace would read it. Yes, and what wouldthey think? Nothing he could say would convince them or anybody. Theymight forgive him, but--

The thought made his blood boil within him. He would take forgivenessfrom no man or woman. If they chose to believe him guilty, let them;but let them keep their forgiveness to themselves. Rather let them givethe dog a bad name and hang him. He did not care! Would that theycould!

Such was the rush of thought that passed through his mind as he stoodthat bleak winter afternoon in the street, a free man. 

Free! he laughed at the word, and envied the burglar with his sixmonths. What spirit of malignity had hindered Mr Sniff from lettinghim lose himself in a felon's cell rather than turn him out "free" intoa world every creature of which was an enemy?

Are you disgusted with him, reader? With his poor spirit, his weakpurpose, his blind folly? Do you say that you, in his shoes, would havedone better? that you would never have lost courage? that you would haveheld up your head still, and braved the storm? Alas, alas, that theReginalds are so many and the heroes of your sort so few!

Alas for the sensitive natures whom injustice can crush and make cowardsof! You are not sensitive, thank God, and you do not know what crushingis. Pray that you never may; but till you have felt it deal lenientlywith poor Reginald, as he goes recklessly out into the winter gloomwithout a friend--not even himself. 

It mattered little to him where he went or what became of him. It madeno odds how and when he should spend his last shilling. He was hungrynow. Since early that morning nothing had passed his lips. Why notspend it now and have done with it?

So he turned into a coffee-shop, and ordered coffee and a plate of beef. 

"My last meal, " said he to himself, with a bitter smile. 

His appetite failed him when the food appeared, but he ate and drank outof sheer bravado. His enemies--Durfy, and the magistrate, and thevictims of the Corporation--would rejoice to see him turn with a shudderfrom his food. He would devour it to spite them. 

"How much?" said he, when it was done. 

"Ninepence, please, " said the rosy-cheeked girl who waited. 

Reginald tossed her the shilling. 

"Keep the change for yourself, " said he, and walked out of the shop. 

He was free now with a vengeance! He might do what he liked, go wherehe liked, starve where he liked. 

He wandered up and down the streets that winter evening recklesslyindifferent to what became of him. The shops were gaily lighted andadorned with Christmas decorations. Boys and girls, men and women, thronged them, eager in their purchases and radiant in the prospect ofthe coming festival. There went a grave father, parading the pavementwith a football under his arm for the boy at home; and here a lad, withhis mother's arm in his, stood halted before an array of fur cloaks, andbade her choose the best among them. Bright-eyed school-girls brushedpast him with their brothers, smiling and talking in holiday glee; andhere a trio of school-chums, arm-in-arm, bore down upon him, laughingover some last-term joke. He watched them all. 

Times were when his heart would warm and soften within him at thememories sights like these inspired; but they were nothing to him now;or if they were anything, they were part of a universal conspiracy tomock him. Let them mock him; what cared he?

The night drew on. One by one the gay lights in the shops went out, andthe shutters hid the crowded windows. One by one the passengersdispersed, some to besiege the railway-stations, some to invade thetrams, others to walk in cheery parties by the frosty roads; all to gohome. 

Even the weary shopmen and shop-girls, released from the day's labours, hurried past him homeward, and the sleepy cabman whipped up his horsefor his last fare before going home, and the tramps and beggars vanisheddown their alleys, and sought every man his home. 

Home! The word had no meaning to-night for Reginald as he watched thestreets empty, and found himself a solitary wayfarer in the desertedthoroughfares. 

The hum of traffic ceased. One by one the bedroom lights went out, theclocks chimed midnight clearly in the frosty air, and still he wanderedon. 

He passed a newspaper-office, where the thunder of machinery and theglare of the case-room reminded him of his own bitter apprenticeship atthe _Rocket_. They might find him a job here if he applied. Faugh! whowould take a gaol-bird, a "let-off" swindler, into their employ?

He strolled down to the docks. The great river lay asleep. The dockswere, deserted; the dockyards silent. Only here and there a dartinglight, or the distant throb of an engine, broke the slumber of thescene. 

A man came up to him as he stood on the jetty. 

"Now then, sheer off; do you hear?" he said. "What do you want here?"

"Mayn't I watch the river?" said Reginald. 

"Not here. We've had enough of your sort watching the river. Off yougo, " and he laid his hand on the boy's collar and marched him off thepier. 

Of course! Who had not had enough of his sort? Who would not suspecthim wherever he went? Cain went about with a mark on his forehead forevery one to know him by. In what respect was he better off, when menseemed to know by instinct and in the dark that he was a character tomistrust and suspect?

The hours wore on. Even the printing-office when he passed it again wasgoing to rest. The compositors one by one were flitting home, and theengine was dropping asleep. He stood and watched the men come out, andwondered if any of them were like himself--whether among them was ayoung Gedge or a Durfy?

Then he wandered off back into the heart of the town. A wretchedoutcast woman, with a child in her arms, stood at the street corner andaccosted him. 

"Do, kind gentleman, give me a penny. The child's starving, and we'reso cold and hungry. "

"I'd give you one if I had one, " said Reginald; "but I'm as poor as youare. "

The woman sighed, and drew her rags round the infant. 

Reginald watched her for a moment, and then, taking off his overcoat, said, --

"You'd better put this round you. "

And he dropped it at her feet, and hurried away before she could pick upthe gift, or bless the giver. 

He gave himself no credit for the deed, and he wanted none. What did hecare about a coat? he who had been frozen to the heart already. Would acoat revive his good name, or cover the disgrace of that magisterialcaution?

The clocks struck four, and the long winter night grew bleaker anddarker. It was eleven hours since he had taken that last defiant meal, and Nature began slowly to assert her own with the poor outcast. He wasfaint and tired out, and the breeze cut him through. Still the rebelspirit within him denied that he was in distress. No food or rest orshelter for him! All he craved was leave to lose himself and forget hisown name. 

Is it any use bidding him, as we bade him once before, turn round andface the evil genius that is pursuing him? or is there nothing for himnow but to run? He has run all night, but he is no farther ahead thanwhen he stood at the police-court door. On the contrary, it is runninghim down fast, and as he staggers forward into the darkest hour of thatcruel night, it treads on his heels and begins to drag him back. 

Is there no home? no voice of a friend? no helping hand to save him fromthat worst of all enemies--his evil self?

It was nearly five o'clock when, without knowing how he got there, hefound himself on the familiar ground of Shy Street. In the dimlamplight he scarcely recognised it at first, but when he did it seemedlike a final stroke of irony to bring him there, at such a time, in sucha mood. What else could it be meant for but to remind him there was noescape, no hope of losing himself, no chance of forgetting?

That gaunt, empty window of Number 13, with the reflected glare of thelamp opposite upon it, seemed to leer down on him like a mocking ghost, claiming him as its own. What was the use of keeping up the struggleany longer? After all, was there not one way of escape?

What was it crouching at the door of Number 13, half hidden in theshade? A dog? a woman? a child?

He stood still a moment, with beating heart, straining his eyes throughthe gloom. Then he crossed. As he did so the figure sprang to its feetand rushed to meet him. 

"I knowed it, gov'nor; I knowed you was a-comin', " cried a familiarboy's voice. "It's all right now. It's all right, gov'nor!"

Never did sweeter music fall on mortal ears than these broken, breathless words on the spirit of Reginald. It was the voice he hadbeen waiting for to save him in his extremity--the voice of love toremind him he was not forsaken; the voice of trust to remind him someone believed in him still; the voice of hope to remind him all was notlost yet. It called him back to himself; it thawed the chill at hisheart, and sent new life into his soul. It was like a key to liberatehim from the dungeon of Giant Despair. 

"Why, Love, is that you, my boy?" he cried, seizing the lad's hand. 

"It is so, gov'nor, " whimpered the boy, trembling with excitement, andclinging to his protector's hand. "I knowed you was a-comin', but I wasa'most feared I wouldn't see you too. "

"What made you think I would come?" said Reginald, looking down withtears in his eyes on the poor wizened upturned face. 

"I knowed you was a-comin', " repeated the boy, as if he could not say ittoo often; "and I waited and waited, and there you are. It's all right, gov'nor. "

"It _is_ all right, old fellow, " said Reginald. "You don't know whatyou've saved me from. "

"Go on, " said the boy, recovering his composure in the great content ofhis discovery. "I ain't saved you from nothink. Leastways unless youwas a-goin' to commit soosanside. If you was, you was a flat to comethis way. That there railway-cutting's where I'd go, and then at theinkwidge they don't know if you did it a-purpose or was topped over bythe train, and they gives you the benefit of the doubt, and says, `Founddead. '"

"We won't talk about it, " said Reginald, smiling, the first smile thathad crossed his lips for a week. "Do you know, young 'un, I'm hungry;are you?"

"Got any browns?" said Love. 

"Not a farthing. "

"More ain't I, but I'll--" He paused, and a shade of doubt crossed hisface as he went on. "Say, gov'nor, think they'd give us a brown forthis 'ere _Robinson_?"

And he pulled out his _Robinson Crusoe_ bravely and held it up. 

"I'm afraid not. It only cost threepence. "

Another inward debate took place; then drawing out his beloved_Pilgrim's Progress_, he put the two books together, and said, --

"Suppose they'd give us one for them two?"

"Don't let's part with them if we can help, " said Reginald. "Suppose wetry to earn something?"

The boy said nothing, but trudged on beside his protector till theyemerged from Shy Street and stood in one of the broad empty main streetsof the city. 

Here Reginald, worn out with hunger and fatigue, and borne up no longerby the energy of desperation, sank half fainting into a doorstep. 

"I'm--so tired, " he said; "let's rest a bit. I'll be all right--in aminute. "

Love looked at him anxiously for a moment, and then saying, "Stay youthere, gov'nor, till I come back, " started off to run. 

How long Reginald remained half-unconscious where the boy left him hecould not exactly tell; but when he came to himself an early streak ofdawn was lighting the sky, and Love was kneeling beside him. 

"It's all right, gov'nor, " said he, holding up a can of hot coffee and aslice of bread in his hands. "Chuck these here inside yer; do you'ear?"

Reginald put his lips eagerly to the can. It was nearly sixteen hourssince he had touched food. He drained it half empty; then stoppingsuddenly, he said, --

"Have you had any yourself?"

"Me? In corse! Do you suppose I ain't 'ad a pull at it?"

"You haven't, " said Reginald, eyeing him sharply, and detecting thewell-meant fraud in his looks. "Unless you take what's left there, I'llthrow it all into the road. "

In vain Love protested, vowed he loathed coffee, that it made him sick, that he preferred prussic acid; Reginald was inexorable, and the boy wasobliged to submit. In like manner, no wile or device could save himfrom having to share the slice of bread; nor, when he did put it to hislips, could any grimace or protest hide the almost ravenous eagernesswith which at last he devoured it. 

"Now you wait till I take back the can, " said Love. "I'll not be aminute, " and he darted off, leaving Reginald strengthened in mind andbody by the frugal repast. 

It was not till the boy returned that he noticed he wore no coat. 

"What have you done with it?" he demanded sternly. 

"Me? What are you talking about?" said the boy, looking guiltilyuneasy. 

"Don't deceive me!" said Reginald. "Where's your coat?"

"What do I want with coats? Do you--"

"Have you sold it for our breakfast?"

"Go on! Do you think--"

"Have you?" repeated Reginald, this time almost angrily. 

"Maybe I 'ave, " said the boy; "ain't I got a right to?"

"No, you haven't; and you'll have to wear mine now. "

And he proceeded to take it off, when the boy said, --

"All right. If you take that off, gov'nor, I slides--I mean it--so Ido. "

There was a look of such wild determination in his pinched face thatReginald gave up the struggle for the present. 

"We'll share it between us, at any rate, " said he. "Whatever inducedyou to do such a foolish thing, Love?"

"Bless you, I ain't got no sense, " replied the boy cheerily. 

Day broke at last, and Liverpool once more became alive with bustle andtraffic. No one noticed the two shivering boys as they wended their waythrough the streets, trying here and there, but in vain, for work, andwondering where and when they should find their next meal. But forReginald that walk, faint and footsore as he was, was a pleasure-tripcompared with the night's wanderings. 

Towards afternoon Love had the rare good fortune to see a gentleman dropa purse on the pavement. There was no chance of appropriating it, hadhe been so minded, which, to do him justice, he was not, for the pursefell in a most public manner in the sight of several onlookers. ButLove was the first to reach it and hand it back to its owner. 

Now Love's old story-books had told him that honesty of this sort is avery paying sort of business; and though he hardly expected thewonderful consequences to follow his own act which always befall thesuperfluously honest boys in the "penny dreadfuls, " he was yet low-souled enough to linger sufficiently long in the neighbourhood of theowner of the purse to give him an opportunity of proving the truth ofthe story-book moral. 

Nor was he disappointed; for the good gentleman, happening to have noless than fifty pounds in gold and notes stored up in this particularpurse, was magnanimous enough to award Love a shilling for his luckypiece of honesty, a result which made that young gentleman's countenanceglow with a grin of the profoundest satisfaction. 

"My eye, gov'nor, " said he, returning radiant with his treasure toReginald, and thrusting it into his hand; "'ere, lay 'old. 'Ere's aslice o' luck. Somethink like that there daily bread you was a-tellin'me of t'other day. No fear, I ain't forgot it. Now, I say sassages. What do you say?"

Reginald said "sausages" too; and the two friends, armed with theirmagic shilling, marched boldly into a cosy coffee-shop where there was ablazing fire and a snug corner, and called for sausages for two. Andthey never enjoyed such a meal in all their lives. How they did makethose sausages last! And what life and comfort they got out of thatfire, and what rest out of those cane-bottomed chairs!

At the end of it all they had fourpence left, which, after seriousconsultation, it was decided to expend in a bed for the night. 

"If we can get a good sleep, " said Reginald, "and pull ourselvestogether, we're bound to get a job of some sort to-morrow. Do you knowany lodging-house?"

"Me? don't I? That there time you jacked me up I was a night in a placedown by the river. It ain't a dainty place, gov'nor, but it's on'ytwopence a piece or threepence a couple on us, and that'll leave a brownfor the morning. "

"All right. Let's go there soon, and get a long night. "

Love led the way through several low streets beside the wharves until hecame to a court in which stood a tumble-down tenement with the legend"Lodgings" scrawled on a board above the door. Here they entered, andLove in a few words bargained with the sour landlady for a night'slodging. She protested at first at their coming so early, but finallyyielded, on condition they would make the threepence into fourpence. They had nothing for it but to yield. 

"Up you go, then, " said the woman, pointing to a rickety ladder whichserved the house for a staircase. "There's one there already. Nevermind him; you take the next. "

Reginald turned almost sick as he entered the big, stifling, filthy loftwhich was to serve him for a night's lodging. About a dozen beds wereranged along the walls on either side, one of which, that in the farcorner of the room, was, as the woman had said, occupied. Theatmosphere of the place was awful already. What would it be when adozen or possibly two dozen persons slept there?

Reginald's first impulse was to retreat and rather spend another nightin the streets than in such a place. But his weary limbs and achingbones forbade it. He must stay where he was now. 

Already Love was curled up and asleep on the bed next to that where theother lodger lay; and Reginald, stifling every feeling but hisweariness, flung himself by his side and soon forgot both place andsurroundings in a heavy sleep. 

Heavy but fitful. He had scarcely lain an hour when he found himselfsuddenly wide awake. Love still lay breathing heavily beside him. Theother lodger turned restlessly from side to side, muttering to himself, and sometimes moaning like a person in pain. It must have been theselatter sounds which awoke Reginald. He lay for some minutes listeningand watching in the dim candle-light the restless tossing of the bed-clothes. 

Presently the sick man--for it was evident sickness was the cause of hisuneasiness--lifted himself on his elbow with a groan, and said, --

"For God's sake--help me!"

In a moment Reginald had sprung to his feet, and was beside thesufferer. 

"Are you ill, " he said. "What is the matter?"

But the man, instead of replying, groaned and fell heavily back on thebed. And as the dim light of the candle fell upon his upturned face, Reginald, with a cry of horror, recognised the features of Mr Durfy, already released by death from the agonies of smallpox. 

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. 

LOST AND FOUND. 

Booms was not exactly the sort of man to be elated by the mission whichMiss Shuckleford had thrust upon him. He passed a restless night inturning the matter over in his mind and wondering how he could break thenews gently to his friend. 

For he was fond of Horace, and in his saturnine way felt deeply for himin his trouble. And on this account he wished Jemima had chosen anyother confidant to discharge the unpleasant task. 

He hung about outside Mrs Cruden's house for an hour early thatmorning, in the hope of being able to entrap Miss Crisp and get her totake the duty off his hands. But Miss Crisp had been sitting up allnight with the patient and did not appear. 

He knocked at the door and asked the servant-girl how Mrs Cruden was. She was a little better, but very weak and not able to speak to anybody. 

"Any news from Liverpool?" inquired Booms. This had become a dailyquestion among those who inquired at Number 6, Dull Street. 

"No, no news, " said the girl, with a guilty blush. She knew the reasonwhy. Reginald's last letter, written just before his arrest, was atthat moment in her pocket. 

"Has Mr Horace started to the office?"

"No; he's a-going to wait and see the doctor, and he says I was to askyou to tell the gentleman so. "

"Can I see him?"

"No; he's asleep just now, " said the girl. 

So Booms had to go down alone to the _Rocket_, as far as ever fromgetting the burden of Jemima's secret off his mind. 

He had a good mind to pass it on to Waterford, and might have done so, had not that young gentleman been engaged all the morning on specialduty, which kept him in Mr Granville's room. 

Booms grew more and more dispirited and nervous. Every footstep thatcame to the door made him tremble, for fear it should be the signal forthe unhappy disclosure. He tried hard to persuade himself it would bekinder after all to say nothing about it. What good could it do now?

Booms, as the reader knows, had not a very large mind. But what therewas of it was honest, and it told him, try how he would, there was nogetting out of a promise. So he busied himself with concoctingimaginary phrases and letters, by way of experiment as to the neatestway of breaking his bad news. 

Still he dreaded his friend's arrival more and more; and when at last abrisk footstep halted at the door, he started and turned pale like aguilty thing, and wished Jemima at the bottom of the sea!

But the footstep was not Horace's. Whoever the arrival was, he tappedat the door before entering, and then, without waiting for a reply, walked in. 

It was a youth of about seventeen or eighteen, with a bright honest faceand cheery smile. 

"Is Horace Cruden here?" he inquired eagerly. 

"Oh no, " said Booms, in his most doleful accents. 

"Isn't this where he works?"

"It is indeed. "

"Well, then, is anything wrong? Is he ill?"

"No. _He_ is not ill, " said Booms, emphasising the pronoun. 

"Is Reginald ill, then, or their mother?"

A ray of hope crossed Booms's mind. This stranger was evidently afriend of the family. He called the boys by their Christian names, andknew their mother. Would he take charge of the dismal secret?

"His mother is ill, " said he. "Do you know them?"

"Rather. I was Horace's chum at Wilderham, you know, and used to spendmy holidays regularly at Garden Vale. Is she very ill?"

"Very, " said Booms; "and the worst of it is, Reginald is not at home. "

"Where is he. Horrors told me he had gone to the country. "

Booms _would_ tell him. For the visitor called his friend Horrors, apet name none but his own family were ever known to use. 

"They don't know where he is. But I do, " said Booms, with a tragicgesture. 

"Where? where? What's wrong, I say? Tell me, there's a good fellow. "

"He's in prison, " said Booms, throwing himself back in his chair, andpanting with the effort the disclosure had cost him. 

"In prison! and Horace doesn't know it! What _do_ you mean? Tell meall you know. "

Booms did tell him, and very little it was. All he knew was fromJemima's secondhand report, and the magnitude of the news had quiteprevented him from inquiring as to particulars. 

"When did you hear this?" said Harker; for the reader will have guessedby this time that the visitor was no other than Horace's old Wilderhamally. 

"Yesterday. "

"And he doesn't know yet?"

"How could I tell him? Of course I'm to get all the blame. I expectedit. "

"Who's blaming you?" said Harker, whom the news had suddenly brought onterms of familiarity with his friend's friend. "When will he be here?"

"Very soon, I suppose. "

"And then you'll tell him?"

"You will, please, " said Booms, quite eagerly for him. 

"Somebody must, poor fellow!" said Harker. "We don't know what we maybe losing by the delay. "

"Of course it's my fault for not waking him up in the middle of thenight and telling him, " said Booms dismally. 

"Is there anything about it in the papers?" said Harker, taking up a_Times_. 

"I've seen nothing. "

"You say it was a day or two ago. Have you got the _Times_ for the lastfew days?"

"Yes; it's there. "

Harker hastily turned over the file, and eagerly searched the police andcountry intelligence. In a minute or two he looked up and said, --

"Had Cruden senior changed his name?"

"How _do_ I know?" said Booms, with a bewildered look. 

"I mean, had he dropped his surname? Look here. "

And he showed Booms the paragraph which appeared in the London papersthe morning after Reginald's arrest. 

"That looks very much as if it was meant for Cruden, " said Harker--"allexcept the name. If it is, that was Tuesday he was remanded, and to-dayis the day he is to be brought up again. Oh, why didn't we know thisbefore?"

"Yes. I knew I was to blame. I knew it all along, " said Booms, takingevery expression of regret as a personal castigation. 

"It will be all over before any one can do a thing, " said Harker, getting up and pacing the room in his agitation. "Why _doesn't_ Horacecome?"

As if in answer to the appeal, Horace at that moment opened the door. 

"Why, Harker, old man!" he exclaimed with delight in his face and voiceas he sprang towards his friend. 

"Horrors, my poor dear boy, " said Harker, "don't be glad to see me. I've bad news, and there's no time to break it gently. It's aboutReginald. He's in trouble--in prison. I'll come with you to Liverpoolthis morning; there is a train in twenty minutes. "

Horace said nothing. He turned deadly pale and gazed for a moment halfscared, half appealing, at his friend. Booms remembered something hehad to do in another room, and went to the door. 

"Do you mind getting a hansom?" said Harker. 

The words roused Horace from his stupor. 

"Mother, " he gasped, "she's ill. "

"We shall be home again to-night most likely, " said Harker. 

"I must tell Granville, " said Horace. 

"Your chief. Well, be quick, the cab will be here directly. "

Horace went to the inner room and in a minute returned, his face stillwhite but with a burning spot on either cheek. 

"All right?" inquired Harker. 

Horace nodded, and followed him to the door. 

In a quarter of an hour they were at Euston in the booking office. 

"I have no money, " said Horace. 

"I have, plenty for us both. Go and get some papers, especiallyLiverpool ones, at the book-stall while I get the tickets. "

It was a long memorable journey. The papers were soon exhausted. Theycontained little or no additional news respecting the obscure suspect inLiverpool, and beyond that they had no interest for either traveller. 

"We shall get down at three, " said Harker; "there's a chance of being intime. "

"In time for what? what can we do?"

"Try and get another remand, if only for a couple of days. I can'tbelieve it of Reg. There must be some mistake. "

"Of course there must, " said Horace, with a touch of scorn in his voice, "but how are we to prove it?"

"It's no use trying just now. All we can do is to get a remand. "

The train seemed to drag forward with cruel slowness, and the preciousmoments sped by with no less cruel haste. It was five minutes pastthree when they found themselves on the platform of Liverpool station. 

"It's touch and go if we're in time, old boy, " said Harker, as they tooktheir seats in a hansom and ordered the man to drive hard for thepolice-court; "but you mustn't give up hope even if we're late. We'llpull poor old Reg through somehow. "

His cheery words and the brotherly grip on his arm were like life andhope to Horace. 

"Oh, yes, " he replied. "What would I have done if you hadn't turned uplike an angel of help, Harker, old man?"

As they neared the police-court the cabman pulled up to allow a policevan to turn in the road. The two friends shuddered. It was like anevil omen to daunt them. 

Was _he_ in that van--so near them, yet so hopelessly beyond theirreach?

"For goodness' sake drive on!" shouted Harker to the cabman. 

It seemed ages before the lumbering obstruction had completed itsrevolution and drawn to one side sufficiently to allow them to pass. 

In another minute the cab dashed to the door of the court. 

It was open, and the knot of idlers on the pavement showed them thatsome case of interest was at that moment going on. 

They made their way to the policeman who stood on duty. 

"Court's full--stand back, please. Can't go in, " said that official. 

"What case is it?"

"Stand back, please--can't go in, " repeated the stolid functionary. 

"Please tell us--"

"Stand back there!" once more shouted the sentinel, growing rather moreperemptory. 

It was clearly no use mincing matters. At this very moment Reginaldmight be standing defenceless within, with his last chance of libertyslipping from under his feet. 

Harker drew a shilling from his pocket and slipped it into the hand ofthe law. 

"Tell us the name of the case, there's a good fellow, " said hecoaxingly. 

"Bilcher--wife murder. Stand back, please--court's full. "

Bilcher! Wife murder! It was for this the crowd had gathered, it wasfor the result of this that that knot of idlers were waiting sopatiently outside. 

Bilcher was the hero of this day's gathering. Who was likely to care arush about such a lesser light as a secretary charged with a commonplacefraud. 

"Has the case of Cruden come on yet?" asked Horace anxiously. 

The policeman answered him with a vacant stare. 

"No, " said Harker, "the name would be Reginald, you know. I say, " addedhe to the policeman, "when does Reginald's case come on?"

"Stand back there--Reginald--he was the last but one before this--don'tcrowd, please. "

"We're too late, then. What was--what did he get?"

Now the policeman considered he had answered quite enough for hisshilling. If he went on, people would think he was an easy fish tocatch. So he affected deafness, and looking straight past his eagerquestioners again repeated his stentorian request to the publicgenerally. 

"Oh, pray tell us what he got, " said Harker, in tones of genuineentreaty; "this is his brother, and we've only just heard of it. "

The policeman for a moment turned a curious eye on Horace, as if toconvince himself of the truth of the story. Then, apparently satisfied, and weary of the whole business, he said, --

"Let off. _Will you_ keep back, please? Stand back. Court's full. "

Let off. Horace's heart gave a bound of triumph as he heard the words. Of course he was! Who could even suspect him of such a thing as fraud?Unjustly accused he might be, but Reg's character was proof against thatany day. 

Harker shared his friend's feelings of relief and thankfulness at thegood news, but his face was still not without anxiety. 

"We had better try to find him, " said he. 

"Oh, of course. He'll probably be back at Shy Street. "

But no one was at Shy Street. The dingy office was deserted and locked, and a little street urchin on the doorstep glowered at them as theypeered up the staircase and read the name on the plate. 

"Had we better ask in the shop? they may know, " said Horace. 

But the chemist looked black when Reginald's name was mentioned, andhoped he should never see him again. He'd got into trouble and lossenough with him as it was--a hypocritical young--

"Look here, " said Horace, "you're speaking of my brother, and you'dbetter be careful. He's no more a hypocrite than you. He's an honestman, and he's been acquitted of the charge brought against him. "

"I didn't know you were his brother, " said the chemist, rathersheepishly, "but for all that I don't want to see him again, and I don'texpect I shall either. He won't come near here in a hurry, unless I'mmistaken. "

"The fellow's right, I'm afraid, " said Harker, as they left the shop. "He's had enough of this place, from what you tell me. It strikes methe best thing is to go and inquire at the police-station. They mayknow something there. "

To the police-station accordingly they went, and chanced to light on oneno less important than Mr Sniff himself. 

"We are interested in Reginald Cruden, who was before the magistrate to-day, " said Harker. "In fact, this is his brother, and I am an oldschoolfellow. We hear the charge against him was dismissed, and weshould be much obliged if you could tell us where to find him. "

Mr Sniff regarded the two boys with interest, and not without a slighttrace of uneasiness. He had never really suspected Reginald, but it hadappeared necessary to arrest him on suspicion, not only to satisfy thevictims of the Corporation, but on the off chance of his knowing rathermore than he seemed to know about the doings of that virtuousassociation. It had been a relief to Mr Sniff to find his firstimpressions as to the lad's innocence confirmed, and to be able towithdraw the charge against him. But the manner in which the magistratehad dismissed the case had roused even his phlegmatic mind toindignation, and had set his conscience troubling him a little as to hisown conduct of the affair. This was why he now felt and looked notquite happy in the presence of Reginald's brother and friend. 

"Afraid I can't tell you, " said he. "He left the court as soon as thecase was over, and of course we've no more to do with him. "

"He is not back at his old office, " said Horace, "and I don't know ofany other place in Liverpool he would be likely to go to. "

"It struck me, from the looks of him, " said Mr Sniff, quite despisinghimself for being so unprofessionally communicative--"it struck me hedidn't very much care where he went. Very down in the mouth he was. "

"Why, but he was acquitted; his character was cleared. Whatever shouldhe be down in the mouth about?" said Horace. 

Mr Sniff smiled pityingly. 

"He was let off with a caution, " he said; "that's rather a differentthing from having your character cleared, especially when our friendFogey's on the bench. I was sorry for the lad, so I was. "

This was a great deal to come from the lips of a cast-iron individuallike Mr Sniff, and it explained the state of the case forcibly enoughto his two hearers. Horace knew his brother's nature well enough toimagine the effect upon him of such a reprimand, and his spirits sankwithin him. 

"Who can tell us now where we are to look for him?" said he to Harker. "Anything like injustice drives him desperate. He may have gone off, asthe detective says, not caring where. And then Liverpool is a fearfullybig place. "

"We won't give it up till we have found him, " said Harker; "and if youcan't stay, old man, I will. "

"I can't go, " said Horace, with a groan. "Poor Reg!"

"Well, let us call round at the post-office and see if Waterford hasremembered to telegraph about your mother. "

They went to the post-office and found a telegram from Miss Crisp: "Goodday. Better, decidedly. Knows you are in Liverpool, but nothing more. Any news? Do not telegraph unless all right. "

"It's pretty evident, " said Horace, handing the message to his friend, "we can't telegraph to-day. I'll write to Waterford and get him to tellthe others. But what is the next thing to be done?"

"We can only be patient, " said Harker. "We are bound to come across himor hear of him in time. "

"He's not likely to have gone home?" suggested Horace. 

"How could he with no money?"

"Or to try to get on an American ship? We might try that. "

"Oh yes, we shall have to try all that sort of thing. "

"Well, let's begin at once, " said Horace impatiently, "every minute maybe of consequence. "

But for a week they sought in vain--among the busy streets by day and inthe empty courts by night, among the shipping, in the railway-stations, in the workhouses, at the printing-offices. 

Mr Sniff did them more than one friendly turn, and armed them with thetalisman of his name to get them admittance where no other key wouldpass them. They inquired at public-houses, coffee-houses, lodging-houses, but all in vain. No one had seen a youth answering theirdescription, or if they had it was only for a moment, and he had passedfrom their sight and memory. 

False scents there were in plenty--some which seemed to lead uphopefully to the very last, and then end in nothing, others too vagueeven to attempt to follow. 

Once they heard that the body of a youth had been found floating in theMersey--and with terrible forebodings they rushed to the place anddemanded to see it. But he was not there. The dead upturned face theylooked on was not his, and they turned away, feeling more than everdiscouraged in their quest. 

At length at the end of a week a man who kept an early coffee-stall inone of the main streets told them that a week ago a ragged little urchinhad come to him with a pitiful tale about a gentleman who was starving, and had begged for a can of coffee and a slice of bread to take to him, offering in proof of his good faith his own coat as payment. It was abitterly cold morning, and the man trusted him. He had never seen thegentleman, but the boy brought back the empty can in a few minutes. Thecoffee man had kept the jacket, as it was about the size of a littlechap of his own. But he had noticed the boy before parting with it taketwo ragged little books out of its pockets and transfer them to thebosom of his shirt. That was all he remembered, and the gentleman mighttake it for what it was worth. 

It was worth something, for it pointed to the possibility of Reginaldnot being alone in his wanderings. And putting one thing and anothertogether they somehow connected this little urchin with the boy they sawcrouching on the doorstep of Number 13, Shy Street the day of theirarrival, and with the office-boy whom Mr Sniff described as having beenReginald's companion during his last days at the office. 

They would neither of them believe Reginald was not still in Liverpool, and cheered by the very feeble light of this discovery they resumedtheir search with unabated vigour and even greater thoroughness. 

Happily the news from home continued favourable, and, equally important, the officials at the _Rocket_ made no demur to Horace's prolonged stay. As for Harker, his hopefulness and pocket-money vied with one another insustaining the seekers and keeping alive within them the certainty of areward, sooner or later, for their patience. 

Ten days had passed, and no fresh clue. Once or twice they had heard ofthe pale young gentleman and the little boy, but always vaguely, as afleeting vision which had been seen about a fortnight ago. 

On this day they called in while passing to see Mr Sniff, and were metby that gentleman with a smile which told them he had some news ofconsequence to impart. 

"I heard to-day, " said he, "that a patient--a young man--was removedvery ill from a low lodging-house near the river--to the smallpoxhospital yesterday. His name is supposed to be Cruden (a common name inthis country), but he was too ill to give any account of himself. Itmay be worth your while following it up. "

In less than half an hour they were at the hospital, and Horace waskneeling at the bedside of his long-lost brother. 

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. 

LOVE FIGHTS HIS WAY INTO THE BEAUTIFUL PALACE. 

Reginald recollected little of what happened on that terrible night whenhe found himself suddenly face to face with his dead enemy. 

He had a vague impression of calling the landlady and of seeing the bodycarried from the pestiferous room. But whether he helped to carry ithimself or not he could not remember. 

When he next was conscious of anything the sun was struggling throughthe rafters over his head, as he lay in the bed beside Love, who sleptstill, heavily but uneasily. 

The other lodgers had all risen and left the place; and when with ashudder he glanced towards the corner where the sick man last night haddied, that bed was empty too. 

He rose silently, without disturbing his companion, and made his wayunsteadily down the ladder in search of the woman. 

She met him with a scowl. She had found two five-pound notes in thedead man's pocket, and consequently wanted to hear no more about him. 

"Took to the mortuary, of course, " said she, in answer to Reginald'squestion. "Where else do you expect?"

"Can you tell me his name, or anything about him? I knew him once. "

She looked blacker than ever at this. It seemed to her guiltyconscience like a covert claim to the dead man's belongings, and shebridled up accordingly. 

"I know nothing about him--no more than I know about you. "

"Don't you know his name?" said Reginald. 

"No. Do I know _your_ name? No! And I don't want to!"

"Don't be angry, " he said. "No one means any harm to you. How long hashe been here?"

"I don't know. A week. And he was bad when he came. He never caughtit here. "

"Did any doctor see him?"

"Doctor! no, " snarled the woman. "Isn't it bad enough to have a manbring smallpox into a place without calling in doctors, to give theplace a bad name and take a body's living from them? I suppose you'llgo and give me a character now. I wish I'd never took you in. I hatedthe sight of you from the first. "

She spoke so bitterly, and at the same time so anxiously, that Reginaldfelt half sorry for her. 

"I'll do you no harm, " said he, gently. "Goodness knows I've done harmenough in my time. "

The last words, though muttered to himself, did not escape the quick earof the woman, and they pleased her. She was used to strange charactersin her place, seeking a night's shelter before escaping to America, orwhile hiding from justice. It was neither her habit nor her business toanswer questions. All she asked was to be let alone and paid for herlodgings. She knew Reginald had her in a sense at his mercy, for heknew the disease the man had died of, and a word from him out of doorswould bring her own pestiferous house about her ears and ruin her. 

But when he muttered those words to himself she concluded he was acriminal of some sort in hiding, and criminals in hiding, as she knew, were not the people to go and report the sanitary arrangements of theirlodgings to the police. 

So she mollified towards him somewhat, and told him she would look afterher affairs if he looked after his, and as he had not had a good nightlast night, well, if no one else wanted the bed to-night he could haveit at half-price; and after that she hoped she would have done with him. 

Reginald returned to the foul garret, and found Love still asleep, buttossing restlessly, and muttering to himself the while. 

He sat down beside him and waited till he opened his eyes. 

At first the boy looked round in a bewildered way as though he werehardly yet awake, but presently his eyes fell on Reginald and his facelit up. 

"Gov'nor, " he said, with a smile, sitting up. 

"Well, old boy, " said Reginald, "what a long sleep you've had. Are yourested?"

"I 'ave 'ad sich dreams, gov'nor, and--my, ain't it cold!" And heshivered. 

The room was stifling. Scarcely a breath of fresh air penetratedthrough its battered roof, still less through the tiny unopened windowat the other end. 

"We'll get some breakfast to make you warm, " said Reginald. "Thishorrible place is enough to make any one feel sick. "

The boy got slowly out of bed. 

"We 'ave got to earn some browns, " he said, "afore we can get anybreakfast. "

He shivered still, and sat down on the edge of the bed for a moment. Then he gathered himself together with an effort and walked to theladder. Reginald's heart sank within him. The boy was not well. Hisface was flushed, his walk was uncertain, and his teeth chatteredincessantly. It might be only the foul atmosphere of the room, or itmight be something worse. And as he thought of it he too shivered, butnot on account of the cold. 

They descended the ladder, and for a little while the boy seemed revivedby the fresh morning air. Reginald insisted on his taking their onecoat, and the boy seemed to lack the energy to contest the matter. Foran hour they wandered about the wharves, till at last Love stopped shortand said, --

"Gov'nor, I don't want no breakfast. I'll just go back and--"

The sentence ended in a whimper, and but for Reginald's arm round him hewould have fallen. 

Reginald knew now that his worst fears were realised. Love was ill, andit was only too easy to surmise what his illness was, especially when hecalled to mind the boy's statement that he had been taking shelter inthe infected lodging-house ten days ago, during his temporary exile fromShy Street. 

He helped him back tenderly to the place--for other shelter they hadnone--and laid him in his bed. The boy protested that he was onlytired, that his back and legs ached, and would soon be well. Reginald, inexperienced as he was, knew better, or rather worse. 

He had a battle royal, as he expected, with the landlady on the subjectof his little patient. At first she would listen to nothing, andthreatened to turn both out by force. But Reginald, with an eloquencewhich only extremities can inspire, reasoned with her, coaxed her, flattered her, bribed her with promises, and finally got far enough onthe right side of her to obtain leave for the boy to occupy Durfy's beduntil some other lodger should want it. But she must have a shillingdown, or off they must go. 

It was a desperate alternative, --to quit his little charge in hisdistress, or to see him turned out to die in the street. Reginald, however, had little difficulty in making his choice. 

"Are you comfortable?" said he to the boy, leaning over him and soothingthe coarse pillow. 

"Yes, gov'nor--all right--that there ache will be gone soon, and see ifI don't pick up some browns afore evening. "

"Do you think you can get on if I leave you a bit? I think I know whereI can earn a little, and I'll be back before night, never fear. "

"Maybe you'll find me up and about when you comes, " said the boy;"mayhap the old gal would give me a job sweeping or somethink. "

"You must not think of it, " said Reginald, almost sternly. "Mind, Itrust you to be quiet till I come. How I wish I had some food!"

With heavy heart he departed, appealing to the woman, for pity's sake, not to let harm come to the boy in his absence. 

Where should he go? what should he do? Half a crown would make him feelthe richest man in Liverpool, and yet how hard, how cruelly hard, it isto find a half-crown when you most want it!

He forgot all his pride, all his sensitiveness, all his own weariness--everything but the sick boy, and left no stone unturned to procure evena copper. He even begged, when nothing else succeeded. 

Nobody seemed to want anything done. There were scores of hungryapplicants at the riverside and dozens outside the printing-office. There were no horses that wanted holding, no boxes or bags that wantedcarrying, no messages or errands that wanted running. No shop orfactory window that he saw had a notice of "Boys Wanted" posted in it;no junior clerk was advertised for in any paper he caught sight of; noteven a scavenger boy was wanted to clean the road. 

At last he was giving it up in despair, and coming to the conclusion hemight just as well hasten back to his little charge and share his fatewith him, when he caught sight of a stout elderly lady standing in astate of flurry and trepidation on the kerb of one of the most crowdedcrossings in the city. 

With the instinct of desperation he rushed towards her, and, lifting hishat, said, --

"Can I help you across, ma'am?"

The lady started to hear words so polite and in so well-bred a tone, coming from a boy of Reginald's poor appearance, for he was stillwithout his coat. 

But she jumped at his offer, and allowed him to pilot her and herparcels over the dangerous crossing. 

"It may be worth twopence to me, " said Reginald to himself as he landedher safe on the other side. 

How circumstances change us! At another time Reginald would haveflushed crimson at the bare idea of being paid for an act of politeness. Now his heart beat high with hope as he saw the lady's hand feel forher pocket. 

"You're a very civil young man, " said she, "and--dear me, how ill youlook. "

"I'm not ill, " said Reginald, with a boldness he himself marvelled at, "but a little boy I love is--very ill--and I have no money to get himeither food or lodging. I know you'll think I'm an impostor, ma'am, butcould you, for pity's sake, give me a shilling? I couldn't pay youback, but I'd bless you always. "

"Dear, dear!" said the lady, "it's very sad--just at Christmas-time, too. Poor little fellow! Here's something for him. I think you lookhonest, young man; I hope you are, and trust in God. "

And to Reginald's unbounded delight she slipped two half-crowns into hishand and walked away. 

He could only say, "God bless you for it. " It seemed like an angel'sgift in his hour of direst need, and with a heart full of comfort hehastened back to the lodgings, calling on his way at a cookshop andspending sixpence of his treasure on some bread and meat for hispatient. 

He was horror-struck to notice the change even a few hours had wroughton the sufferer. There was no mistaking his ailment now. Though notdelirious, he was in a high state of fever, and apparently of pain, forhe tossed incessantly and moaned to himself. 

The sight of Reginald revived him. 

"I knowed you was comin', " said he; "but I don't want nothing to eat, gov'nor. On'y some water; I do want some water. "

Reginald flew to get it, and the boy swallowed it with avidity. Then, somewhat revived, he lay back and said, "I 'ave got 'em, then?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it's smallpox, " said Reginald; "but you'll soon bebetter. "

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Say, gov'nor, you don't ought to stophere; you'll be cotchin' 'em too!"

"No fear of that, " said Reginald, "I've been vaccinated. Besides, who'dlook after you?"

"My! you're a good 'un to me!" said the boy. "Think of that thereMedlock--"

"Don't let's think of anything so unpleasant, " said Reginald, seeingthat even this short talk had excited his patient unduly. "Let me seeif I can make the bed more comfortable, and then, if you like, I canread to you. How would you like that?"

The boy beamed his gratitude, and Reginald, after doing his best tosmooth the wretched bed and make him comfortable, produced the_Pilgrim's Progress_ and settled down to read. 

"That there _Robinson_ ain't a bad 'un, " said Love, before the readingbegan; "I read 'im while I was a-waitin' for you. But 'e ain't so goodas the Christian. Read about that there pallis ag'in, gov'nor. "

And Reginald read it--more than once. 

The evening closed in, the room grew dark, and he shut the book. Theboy was already asleep, tossing and moaning to himself, sometimesseeming to wake for a moment, but dropping off again before he couldtell what he wanted or what was wrong with him. 

Once or twice Reginald moistened his parched mouth with water, but asthe evening wore on the boy became so much worse that he felt, at allhazards, he must seek help. 

"I _must_ bring a doctor to see him, " said he to the landlady; "he's soill. "

"You'll bring no doctor--unless you want to see the boy chucked out inthe road!" said she. "The idea! just when my lodgers will be cominghome to bed too!"

"It's only eight o'clock; no one will come till ten. There'll be plentyof time. "

"What's the use? You know as well as I do the child won't last above aday or two in his state. What's the use of making a disturbance fornothing?" said the woman. 

"He won't die--he shall not die!" said Reginald, feeling in his hearthow foolish the words were. "At any rate, I must fetch a doctor. Imight have fetched one without saying a word to you, but I promised Iwouldn't, and now I want you to let me off the promise. "

The woman fretted and fumed, and wished ill to the day when she had everseen either Reginald or Love. He bore her vituperation patiently, as itwas his only chance of getting his way. 

Presently she said, "If you're bent on it, go to Mr Pilch, round thecorner; he's the only doctor I'll let come in my house. You can havehim or nobody, that's flat!"

In two minutes Reginald was battering wildly at Mr Pilch's door. Thatgentleman--a small dealer in herbs, who eked out his livelihood byoccasional unauthorised medical practice--happened to be in, andoffered, for two shillings, to come and see the sick boy. Reginaldtossed down the coin with eager thankfulness, and almost dragged him tothe bedside of his little charge. 

Mr Pilch may have known very little of medicine, but he knew enough tomake him shake his head as he saw the boy. 

"Regular bad case that. Smallpox and half a dozen things on the top ofit. I can't do anything. "

"Can you give me no medicine for him, or tell me what food he ought totake or what? Surely there's a _chance_ of his getting better?"

Mr Pilch laughed quietly. 

"About as much chance of his pulling through that as of jumping over themoon. The kindest thing you can do is to let him die as soon as he can. He may last a day or two. If you want to feed him, give him anythinghe will take, and that won't be much, you'll find. It's a bad case, young fellow, and it won't do you any good to stop too near him. No usemy coming again. Good-night. "

And the brusque but not unkindly little quack trotted away, leavingReginald in the dark without a gleam of hope to comfort him. 

"Gov'nor, " said the weak little voice from the bed, "that there doctorsays I are a-goin' to die, don't he?"

"He says you're very ill, old boy, but let's hope you'll soon bebetter. "

"Me--no fear. On'y I wish it would come soon. I'm afeared of gettin'frightened. "

And the voice trembled away into a little sob. 

They lay there side by side that long restless night. The otherlodgers, rough degraded men and women, crowded into the room, but no oneheeded the little bed in the dark corner, where the big boy lay with hisarm round the little uneasy sufferer. There was little sleep either forpatient or nurse. Every few minutes the boy begged for water, whichReginald held to his lips, and when after a time the thirst ceased andonly the pain remained, nothing soothed and tranquillised him so much asthe repetition time after time of his favourite stories from thewonderful book, which, happily, Reginald now knew almost by heart. 

So the night passed. Before daylight the lodgers one by one rose andleft the place, and when about half-past seven light struggled once morein between the rafters these two were alone. 

The boy seemed a little revived, and sipped some milk which Reginald haddarted out to procure. 

But the pain and the fever returned twofold as the day wore on, and evento Reginald's unpractised eye it was evident the boy's release was notfar distant. 

"Gov'nor, " said the boy once, with his mind apparently wandering backover old days, "what's the meaning of `Jesus Christ's sake, Amen, ' whatcomes at the end of that there prayer you taught me at the office--is Hethe same one that's in the _Pilgrim_ book?"

"Yes, old boy; would you like to hear about Him?"

"I would so, " said the boy, eagerly. 

And that afternoon, as the shadows darkened and the fleeting ray of thesun crossed the floor of their room, Love lay and heard the old, oldstory told in simple broken words. He had heard of it before, but tillnow he had never heeded it. Yet it seemed to him more wonderful eventhan _Robinson Crusoe_ or the _Pilgrim's Progress_. Now and then hebroke in with some comment or criticism, or even one of his old familiartirades against the enemies of his new hero. The room grew darker, andstill Reginald went on. When at last the light had all gone, the boy'shand stole outside the blanket and sought that of his protector, andheld it till the story came to an end. 

Then he seemed to drop into a fitful sleep, and Reginald, with the handstill on his, sat motionless, listening to the hard breathing, andliving over in thought the days since Heaven in mercy joined his life tothat of his little friend. 

How long he sat thus he knew not. He heard the voices and tread of theother lodgers in the room; he heard the harsh groan of the bolt on theouter door downstairs; and he saw the candle die down in its socket. But he never moved or let go the boy's hand. 

Presently--about one or two in the morning, he thought--the hardbreathing ceased, and a turn of the head on the pillow told him thesleeper was awake. 

"Gov'nor, you there?" whispered the boy. 

"Yes, old fellow. "

"It's dark; I'm most afeared. "

Reginald lay on the bed beside him, and put an arm round him. 

The boy became more easy after this, and seemed to settle himself oncemore to sleep. But the breathing was shorter and more laboured, and thelittle brow that rested against the watcher's cheek grew cold and damp. 

For half an hour more the feeble flame of life flickered on, everybreath seeming to Reginald as he lay there motionless, scarcely daringto breathe himself, like the last. 

Then the boy seemed suddenly to rouse himself and lifted his head. 

"Gov'nor--that pallis!--I'm gettin' in--I hear them calling--come theretoo, gov'nor!"

And the head sank back on the pillow, and Reginald, as he turned hislips to the forehead, knew that the little valiant soul had fought hisway into the beautiful palace at last, and was already hearing the musicof those voices within as they welcomed him to his hero's reward. 

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. 

THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME. 

It is strange how often our fortunes and misfortunes, which we are soapt to suppose depend on our own successes or failures, turn out to havefallen into hands we least expected, and to have been depending ontrains of circumstances utterly beyond our range of imagination. 

Who, for instance, would have guessed that a meeting of half a dozenbusiness men in a first-floor room of a New York office could have anybearing on the fate of the Cruden family? Or that an accident to MajorLambert's horse while clearing a fence at one of the --shire huntsshould also affect their prospects in life?

But so it was. 

While Reginald, tenderly nursed by his old school friend, was slowlyrecovering from his illness in Liverpool, and while Mrs Cruden andHorace, in their shabby London lodging, were breaking into their lasthundred pounds, and wondering how, even with the boy's improved wagesand promise of literary success, they should be able to keep acomfortable home for their scattered but shortly to be reunited family--at this very time a few of the leading creditors of the Wishwash andLongstop Railway assembled in the old office of that bankruptundertaking, and decided to accept an offer from the Grand RoundaboutRailway to buy up their undertaking at half-price, and add its fewhundred miles of line to their own few thousand. 

A very important decision this for the little Dull Street family. Foramong the English creditors of this same Wishwash and Longstop RailwayMr Cruden had been one of the most considerable--so considerable thatthe shares he held in it had amounted to about half his fortune. 

And when the division of the proceeds of the sale of the railway came tobe divided it turned out that Mr Cruden's administrators, heirs, andassigns were entitled to about a third of the value of that gentleman'sshares, or in other words, something like a sixth of their old property, which little windfall, after a good deal of wandering about and searchfor an owner, came finally under the notice of Mr Richmond'ssuccessors, who in turn passed it over to Mrs Cruden with a very neatlittle note of congratulation on the good fortune which had made her andher sons the joint proprietors of a snug little income of from £300 to£400 a year. 

Of course the sagacious reader will remark on this that it is onlynatural that towards the end of my story something of this sort shouldhappen, in order to finish up with the remark that "they lived happilyever after. " And his opinion of me will, I fear, be considerablylowered when he finds that instead of Reginald dying in the smallpoxhospital, and Mrs Cruden and Horace ending their days in the workhouse, things looked up a little for them towards the finish, and promised arather more comfortable future than one had been led to expect. 

It is sad, of course, to lose any one's good esteem, but as thingsreally did look up for the Crudens--as Reginald really did recover, asMrs Cruden and Horace really did not go to the workhouse, and as theGrand Roundabout Railway really was spirited enough to buy up theWishwash and Longstop Railway at half-price, I cannot help saying so, whatever the consequences may be. 

But several weeks before Mr Richmond's successors announced thiswindfall to their clients, the accident to Major Lambert's horse hadresulted in comfort to the Crudens of another kind, which, if truth mustbe told, they expected quite as little and valued quite as much. 

That worthy Nimrod, once an acquaintance and neighbour of the GardenVale family in the days of their prosperity, was never known to miss awinter's hunting in his own county if he could possibly help it, andduring the present season had actually come all the way from Malta, where his regiment was stationed, on short leave, for the sake of two orthree days of his favourite sport in the old country. 

Such enthusiasm was worthy of a happier fate than that which befell him. For on his first ride out his horse came to grief, as we have said, over a hedge, and left the gallant major somewhat knocked about himself, with nothing to do for half a day but to saunter disconsolately up anddown the country lanes and pay afternoon calls on some of his oldcomrades. 

Among others, he knocked at the door of an elderly dowager named Osborn, who was very sympathetic with him in his misfortunes, and did her bestto comfort him with afternoon tea and gossip. 

The latter lasted a good deal longer than the former. One after anotherthe major's old friends were mentioned and discussed and talked about asonly folk can be talked about over afternoon tea. 

"By the way, " said the caller, "I hear poor Cruden didn't leave muchbehind him after all. Is Mrs Cruden still at Garden Vale?"

"No, indeed, " said the lady; "it's a sad story altogether. Mr Crudenleft nothing behind him, and Garden Vale had to be sold, and the familywent to London, so I was told, in very poor circumstances. "

"Bless me!" said the honest major, "haven't you looked them up? Crudenwas a good sort of a fellow, you know. "

"Well, I've always intended to try and find out where they are living, but really, major, you have no idea how one's time gets filled up. "

"I've a very good idea, " said the major with a groan. "I have to sailin a week, and there's not much spare time between now and then, I cantell you. Still, I'd like to call and pay my respects to Mrs Cruden ifI knew where she lived. "

"I daresay you could find out. But I was going to say that onlyyesterday I saw something in the paper which will hardly make MrsCruden anxious to see any of her old friends at present. The eldestson, I fear, has turned out badly. "

"Who? young--what was his name?--Reginald? Can't believe it. He alwaysseemed one of the right sort. A bit of a prig perhaps, but straightenough. What has he been up to?"

"You'd better see for yourself, major, " said the lady, extracting anewspaper from a heap under the dinner-waggon. "He seems to have beenmixed up in a rather discreditable affair, as far as I could make out, but I didn't read the report through. "

The major took the paper, and read a short report of the proceedings atthe Liverpool Police-Court. 

"You didn't read it through, you say, " observed he, when he hadfinished; "you saw he was let off?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid--well, it's very sad for them all. "

"Of course it is, " blurted out the soldier, "especially when none oftheir old friends seem to care anything about them. Excuse me, MrsOsborn, " added he, seeing that the lady coloured. "I wasn't meaningyou, but myself. Cruden was on old comrade, who did me more than onegood turn. I must certainly take a day in town on my way back and findthem out. As for the boy, I don't believe he's got it in him to be ablackleg. "

The major was as good as his word. He sacrificed a day of his lovedpastime to look for his old friend's widow in London. 

After a good deal of hunting he discovered her address, and presentedhimself, with not a little wonderment at the shabbiness of her quarters, at Dull Street. 

Barely convalescent, and still in the agony of suspense as to Reginald'sfate, Mrs Cruden was able to see no one. But the major was not thus tobe baulked of his friendly intentions. Before he left the house hewrote a letter, which in due time lay in the widow's hands and broughttears to her eyes. 

"Dear Mrs Cruden, --I am on my way back to Malta, and sorry not to seeyou. We all have our troubles, but you seem to have had more than yourshare; and what I should have liked would be to see whether there wasanything an old friend of your husband could do to serve you. I trustyou will not resent the liberty I take when I say I have instructed myagent, whose address is enclosed, to put himself at your disposal in anyemergency when you may need either advice or any other sort of aid. Heis a good fellow, and understands any service you may require (andemergencies often do arise) is to be rendered on my account. As to youreldest son, about whom I read a paragraph in the papers the other day, nothing will make me believe he is anything but his honest father'shonest son. My brother-in-law, whom you will remember, is likelyshortly to have an opportunity of introducing a young fellow into anEast India house in the City. I may mention this because, should youthink well to tell Reginald of it, I believe there would not be muchdifficulty in his getting the post. But you will hear about this frommy brother-in-law, whom I have asked to write to you. I don't expect toget leave again, for eighteen months; but I hope then to find you allwell. 

"Believe me, dear Mrs Cruden, --

"Yours truly, --

"Thomas Lambert. "

This simple warm-hearted letter came to Mrs Cruden as the first gleamof better things on the troubled waters of her life. Things were justthen at their worst. Reginald lost, Horace away in search of him, herself slowly recovering from a sad illness into a still more sad life, with little prospect either of happiness or competency, nothing to lookforward to but a renewal of the old struggles, possibly single-handed. At such a time Major Lambert's letter came to revive her droopingspirits and remind her of a Providence that never sleeps less than whenwe are ready to consider ourselves forgotten. 

All she could do was to write a grateful reply back, and then await newsfrom Horace, trusting meanwhile it would not be necessary to draw on themajor's offered help. A few days later Horace was home again, jubilantat having found his brother, but anxious both as to his immediaterecovery and the state of mind in which restored health would find him. 

"He told me lots about the past, mother, " said he. "No one can conceivewhat a terrible three months he has had since he left us, or howheroically he has borne it. He doesn't think so himself, and is awfullydepressed about his trial and the way in which the magistrate spoke tohim--the brute!"

"Poor boy! he is the very last to bear that sort of thing well. "

"He's got a sort of idea he's a branded man, and is to be dragged downall his life by it. Perhaps when he hears that an old friend like MajorLambert believes in him, he may pick up. You know, mother, I believehis heart is in the grave where that little office-boy of his lies, andthat he would have been thankful if--well, perhaps not so bad as that--but just at present he can't speak or even think of the boy withoutbreaking down. "

"According to the letter from Major Lambert's brother-in-law, the postthat is offered him is one he will like, I think, " said Mrs Cruden. "Ido hope he will take it. To have nothing to do would be the worst thingthat could happen to him. "

"To say nothing of the necessity of it for you, mother, " said Horace;"for there's to be no more copying out manuscripts, mind, even if we allgo to the workhouse. "

Mrs Cruden sighed. She knew her son was right, but the wolf was at thedoor, and she shrank from becoming a useless burden on her boys'shoulders. 

"I wonder, Horace, " said she, presently, "whether we could possibly findless expensive quarters than these. They are--"

"Hullo, there's the postman!" said Horace, who had been looking from thewindow; "ten to one there's a line from Harker. "

And he flew down the stairs, just in time to see the servant-girl take aletter from the box and put it in her pocket. 

"None for us?" said he. 

The girl, who till this moment was not aware of his presence, turnedround and coloured very violently, but said nothing. 

"Show me the letter you put into your pocket just now, " said Horace, whohad had experience before now in predicaments of this kind. 

The girl made no reply, but tried to go back to the kitchen. Horace, however, stopped her. 

"Be quick!" said he. "You've a letter for me in your pocket, and if Idon't have it before I count twenty I'll give you in charge;" and heproceeded to count. 

Before he had reached ten the girl broke out into tears, and took fromher pocket not only the letter in question, but three or four others. 

"There you are; that's all of them. I've done with it!" sobbed she. 

Horace glanced over them in bewilderment. One was in Reginald'swriting, written three weeks ago; two were from himself to his mother, written last week, and the last was from Harker, written yesterday. 

"Why, " exclaimed he, too much taken aback almost to find words, "whatdoes it mean? How do you come--"

"Oh, I'll tell you, " said the girl; "I don't care what they do to me. I'd sooner be sent to prison than go on at it. He told me to do it, andthreatened me all sorts of things if I didn't. Oh dear! oh dear!"

"Who told you?"

"Why, Mr Shuckleford. He said Mr Reginald was a convict, orsomething, and if I didn't mind every letter that came to the house fromLiverpool I'd get sent to prison too for abetting him. I'm sure I don'twant to abet no one, and I can't help if they do lock me up. "

"You mean to say Mr Shuckleford told you to do this?" said--or ratherroared--Horace. 

"Yes, he did; and he had them all before that one, " said the girl, pointing to the letter from Reginald. "But he's never been for these, and I didn't dare not to keep them for him. Please, sir, look over itthis time. "

Horace was too agitated to heed her tears or entreaties. He rushed fromthe house with the letters in his hand, and made straight for theShucklefords' door. But, with his hand on the bell, he hesitated. MrsShuckleford and her daughter had been good to his mother; he could notrelieve his mind to Samuel in their presence. So he resolved topostpone that pleasure till he could find the young lawyer alone, andmeanwhile hurried back to his mother and rejoiced her heart with thegood news of Reginald contained in Harker's letter. 

How and when Horace and Shuckleford settled accounts no one exactlyknew, but one evening, about a week afterwards, the latter came homelooking very scared and uncomfortable, and announced that he was gettingtired of London, the air of which did not agree with his constitution. He intended to close with an offer he had received some time ago from afirm in the country to act as their clerk; and although the sacrificewas considerable, still the country air and change of scene he feltwould do him good. 

So he went, much lamented by his mother and sister and club. But of allhis acquaintances there was only one who knew the exact reason why, justat that particular time, the country air promised to be so beneficialfor his constitution. 

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Three weeks passed, and then one afternoon a cab rolled slowly up to thedoor of Number 6, Dull Street. Horace was away at the office, and MrsCruden herself was out taking a walk. 

So the two young men who alighted from the cab found themselves monarchsof all they surveyed, and proceeded upstairs to the parlour with no oneto ask what their business was. 

"Now, old man, " said the sturdier of the two, "I won't stay. I'vebrought you safe home, and you needn't pretend you'll be sorry to see myback. "

"I won't pretend, " said the other, with a smile on his pale face, "butif you're not back very soon, in an hour or two, I shall be very verysorry. "

"Never fear, I'll be back. "

And he went. 

The pale youth sat down, and looked with a strange mixture of sadnessand eagerness round the little room. He had seen it before, and yet heseemed hardly to recognise it. He got up and glanced at a few envelopeslying on the mantel-piece. He took into his hands a piece of knittingthat lay on one of the chairs and examined it. He turned over theleaves of a stray book, and read the name on the title-page. It allseemed so strange--yet so familiar. Then he crept silently to the half-open door of a little bedroom and peeped in, and his heart beatstrangely as he recognised a photograph on the dressing-table, and byits side a letter written in his own handwriting. From this room heturned to another still smaller and more roughly furnished. A walking-stick stood in the corner that he knew well, and there was a cap on thepeg behind the door, the sight of which sent a thrill through him. 

Yet he felt he dared touch nothing--that he scarcely dare let his footbe heard as he paced across the room, or venture even to stir the littlefire that was dying out in the grate. 

The slight flush which the excitement of his first arrival had called upfaded from his cheeks as the minutes wore on. 

Presently his ears caught a light footfall on the pavement outside, andhis heart almost stood still as it halted and the bell rang below. 

It was one of those occasions when a man may live a lifetime in aminute. With a mighty rush his thoughts flew back to the last time hehad heard that step. What goodness, what hope, what love did it notbring back to his life! He had taken it all for granted, and thought solittle of it; but now, after months of loveless, cheerless drudgery anddisappointment, that light step fell with a music which flooded hiswhole soul. 

He sat almost spell-bound as the street-door closed and the stepsascended the stairs. The room seemed to swim round him, and to hisbroken nerves it seemed for a moment as though he dreaded rather thanlonged for what was coming. But as the door opened the spell broke andall the mists vanished; he was his own self once more--nothing but thelong-lost boy springing to the arms of the long-lost mother. 

"Mother!"

"My boy!"

That was all they said. And in those few words Reginald Cruden's lifeentered on a new era. 

When Horace half an hour later came flying on to the scene they stillsat there hand in hand, trying to realise it all, but not succeeding. Horace, however, helped them back to speech, and far into the night theytalked. About ten o'clock Harker looked in for a moment, and after themyoung Gedge, unable to wait till the morning. But they stayed only amoment, and scarcely interrupted the little family reunion. 

What those three talked about it would be hard for me to say. What theydid not talk about in the past, the present, and the future would bealmost easier to set down. And when at last Mrs Cruden rose, and inher old familiar tones said, --

"It's time to go to bed, boys, " the boys obeyed, as in the days longago, and came up to her and kissed her, and then went off like children, and slept, like those who never knew what care was, all the happy night. 

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. 

TURNING OVER LEAVES, NEW AND OLD. 

A very few words more, reader, and my story is done. 

The trial of Medlock and Shanklin took place in due time, and among thewitnesses the most important, but the most reluctant, was ReginaldCruden. It was like a hateful return to the old life to find himselfface to face with those men, and to have to tell over again the story oftheir knavery and his own folly. But he went through with it like aman. 

The prisoners, who were far more at their ease than the witness, troubled him with no awkward cross-examination, and when presently thejury retired, he retired too, having neither the curiosity nor thevindictiveness to remain and hear their sentence. 

On his way out a familiar voice accosted him. 

"Cruden, old man, will you shake hands? I've been a cad to you, but I'msorry for it now. "

It was Blandford, looking weak and pale, with one arm still in a sling. 

Reginald took his proffered hand eagerly and wrung it. 

"I've been bitten over this affair, as you know, " continued Blandford, "and I've paid up for my folly. I wish I could come out of it all withas easy a conscience as you do, that's all! Among them all I've lost agood deal more than money; but if you and Horrors will take me back inyour set there'll be a chance for me yet. I'm going to UniversityCollege, you know, so I shall be staying in town. Harker and I willprobably be lodging together, and it won't be my fault if it's far awayfrom your quarters. "

And arm in arm the old schoolfellows walked, with their backs on thedark past and their faces turned hopefully to the future. 

Had Reginald remained to hear the end of the trial, he would have foundhimself the object of a demonstration he little counted on. 

The jury having returned with their expected verdict, and sentencehaving been passed on the prisoners, the counsel for the prosecution gotup and asked his lordship for leave to make one observation. He spokein the name of the various victims of the sham Corporation when hestated that his clients desired to express their conviction that theformer secretary of the Corporation, whose evidence that day had mainlycontributed to the exposure of the fraud, was himself entirely clear ofany imputation in connection with the conspiracy. 

"I should not mention this, my lord, " said the counsel, "had not acertain magistrate, in another place, at an earlier stage of thisinquiry, used language--in my humble opinion harsh and unwarranted--calculated to cast a slur on that gentleman's character, if not tointerfere seriously with his future prospects. I merely wish to say, mylord, that my clients, and those of us who have gone fully into thecase, and may be expected to know as much about it even as a north-country magistrate, are fully convinced that Mr Cruden comes out ofthis case with an unsullied character, and we feel it our duty publiclyto state our opinion to that effect. "

The counsel sat down amid signs of approval from the Court, not unmixedwith amusement at the expense of the north-country magistrate, and thejudge, calling for order, replied, "I make no objection whatever to thestatement which has just fallen from the lips of the learned counsel, and as it commends itself entirely to my own judgment in the matter, Iam glad to inform Mr Cruden, if he be still in court, that he will quitit to-day clear of the slightest imputation on his character unbecomingan upright but unfortunate gentleman. "

Reginald was not in court, but he read every word of it next day withgrateful and overflowing heart. 

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Three months have passed. The winter has given way to spring, andNumber 3, Dull Street is empty. Jemima Shuckleford still nurses hersorrow in secret, and it will be a year or two yet before the happy manis to turn up who shall reconcile her to life, and disestablish theimage of Reginald Cruden from her soft heart. Meanwhile she and hermother are constant visitors at the little house in Highbury where theCrudens now live, and as often as they go they find a welcome. Samuelwrites home from the country that he is doing great things, and expectsto become Lord Chancellor in a few years. Meanwhile he too contemplatesmatrimony with a widow and four children, who will probably leave himamong them very little leisure for another experiment in the amateurdetective business. 

The Shuckleford ladies were invited, but unfortunately were unable togo, to a little quiet house-warming given by the Crudens on the occasionof their taking possession of the new house. 

But though they could not go, Miss Crisp could, and, as a matter ofcourse, Mr Booms, in all the magnificence of last year's springcostume. And Waterford came too, and young Gedge, as did also thefaithful Harker, and--with some little trepidation--the now soberedBlandford. 

The company had quite enough to talk about without having to fall backon shouting proverbs or musical chairs. Indeed, there were severallittle excitements in the wind which came out one by one, and made theevening a sort of epoch in the lives of most of those present. 

For instance, young Gedge was there no longer as a common compositor. He had lately been made, youth as he was, overseer in the room of Durfy;and the dignity of his new office filled him with sobriety and good-humour. 

"It's no fault of mine, " said he, when Mrs Cruden congratulated him onhis promotion. "If Cruden hadn't stood by me that time he first came tothe _Rocket_, I should have gone clean to the dogs. I mean it. I wasgoing full tilt that way. "

"But I went off and left you after all, " said Reginald. 

"I know you did; and I was sorry at the time you hadn't left that cab-horse to finish his business the evening you picked me up. But Horacehere and Mrs Cruden--"

"Picked you up again, " said Waterford. "Regular fellow for being pickedup, you are. All comes of your habit of picking up types. One ofnature's revenges--and the last to pick you up is the _Rocket_. What anappetite she's got, to be sure!"

"I should think so from the way she swallows your and Horace'slucubrations every week, " says Gedge, laughing. "Why, I actually know afellow who knows a fellow who laughed at one of your jokes. "

"Come, none of your chaff, " said Horace, looking not at all displeased. "You never laughed at a joke, I know, because you never see one. "

"No more I do. That's what I complain of, " replied the incorrigibleyoung overseer. 

"Never mind, we shall have our revenge when he has to put our jointnovel in print, " said Waterford. "Ah, I thought you'd sit up there, myboy. Never mind, you'll know about it some day. The first chapter ishalf done already. "

"Jolly work that must be, " says Harker. "More fun than highermathematics and Locke on the Understanding, eh, Bland?"

"Perhaps they would be glad to change places with us before they arethrough with it, though, " observes Blandford. 

"Never knew such a beggar for grinding as Bland is turning out, " saysHarker. "He takes the shine out of me; and I'm certain he'll knock meinto a cocked hat at the matric. . "

"You forget I've lost time to make up, " replies Blandford, gravely; "andI'm not going to be content if I don't take honours. "

"Don't knock yourself up, that's all, " says Reginald, "especially nowcricket's beginning. We ought to turn out a good eleven with four oldWilderhams to give it a backbone, eh?"

And at the signal the four chums somehow get together in a corner, andthe talk flies off to the old schooldays, and the battles and triumphsof the famous Wilderham Close. 

Meanwhile Booms and Miss Crisp whisper very confidentially together inanother corner. What they talk about no one can guess. It may becollars, or it may be four-roomed cottages, or it may be only theweather. Whatever it is, Booms's doleful face relaxes presently into asolemn smile, and Miss Crisp goes over and sits by Mrs Cruden, who putsher arm round the blushing girl and kisses her in a very motherly way onthe forehead. It is a curious piece of business altogether, and it isjust as well the four young men are too engrossed in football andcricket to notice it, and that Gedge and Waterford find their wholeattention occupied by the contents of the little bookcase in the cornerto have eyes for anything else. 

"Jolly lot of books you've got, " says Waterford, when presently thelittle groups break up and the big circle forms again. "I always thinkthey are such nice furniture in a room, don't you, Mrs Cruden?"

"Yes, I do, " says Mrs Cruden; "especially when they are all oldfriends. "

"Some of these seem older friends than others, " says Waterford, pointingto a corner where several unbound tattered works break the ranks ofgreen-cloth gilt-lettered volumes. "Look at this weatherbeaten littlefellow, for instance, a bit of a _Pilgrim's Progress_. That must be avery poor relation; surely you don't count him in?"

"Don't I, " says Reginald, taking the book in his hands, and speaking ina tone which makes every one look up at him. "This little book is worthmore to me than all the rest put together. "

And as he bends his head over the precious little relic, and turns itswell-thumbed pages one by one, he forgets where he is, or who is lookingon. And a tear steals into his eyes as his mind flies far away to alittle green grave in the north country over which the soft breezes ofspring play lovingly, and seem to whisper in a voice he knows and lovesto remember--"Come there too, guv'nor. "

THE END.