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Jeffreys p.r.i.c.ked up his ears and asked a good many questions about the school, which the youthful pair readily and gaily replied to, and then suggested that if Trimble was such a cad the boys had better not be late.
"Have some parliament cake?" said Freddy, opening his satchel and producing a large square of crisp gingerbread.
Jeffreys had not the heart to refuse a little piece of this delicacy, and enjoyed it more than the most sumptuous meal in an hotel. Teddy also insisted on his taking a bite out of his apple.
"Good-bye," said the little fellow, putting up his face in the most natural manner for a kiss. Jeffreys felt quite staggered by this unexpected attention, but recovered his presence of mind enough to do what was expected of him. Freddy, on the other hand, looked rather alarmed at his young brother's audacity, and contented himself with holding out his hand.
"Good-bye, little chap," said Jeffreys, feeling a queer lump in his throat and not exactly knowing which way to look.
Next moment the two little brothers were trotting down the road hand-in- hand as gay as young larks. Jeffreys thought no more about the navvies, or the delights of a labourer's life. A new hope was in him, and he strolled slowly back into York wondering to himself if angels ever come to men in the shape of little schoolboys.
It was still early when he reached the city. So he spent sixpence of his little store on a bath in the swimming baths, and another sixpence on some breakfast. Then, refreshed in body and mind, he called at the post-office. There was nothing for him there. Though he hardly expected any letter yet, his heart sunk as he thought what news might possibly be on its way to him at that moment. The image of Forrester as he lay on the football field haunted him constantly, and he would have given all the world even then to know that he was alive. Hope, however, came to his rescue, and helped him for a time to shake off the weight of his heart, and address himself boldly to the enterprise he had in hand.
That enterprise the acute reader has easily guessed. He would offer his services to the worthy Mrs Trimble, _vice_ Mr Fison, resigned. He never imagined his heart could beat as quickly as it did when after a long search he read the words--"Galloway House. Select School for Little Boys," inscribed on a board in the front garden of a small, old- fashioned house in Ebor Road.
The sound of children's voices in the yard at the side apprised him that he had called at a fortunate time. Mrs Trimble during the play-hour would in all probability be disengaged.
Mrs Trimble was disengaged, and opened the door herself. Jeffreys beheld a stoutish harmless-looking woman, with a face by no means forbidding, even if it was decidedly unintellectual.
"Well, young man," said she. She had been eating, and, I regret to say, had not finished doing so before she began to speak.
"Can I see Mrs Trimble, please?" asked Jeffreys, raising his hat. The lady, finding her visitor was a gentleman, hastily wiped her mouth and answered rather lest brusquely.
"I am the lady," said she.
"Excuse me," said Jeffreys, "I called to ask if you were in want of an a.s.sistant teacher. I heard that you were."
"How did you hear that, I wonder? I suppose he's a friend of that Fison. Yes, young man, I am in want of an a.s.sistant."
"I should do my best to please you, if you would let me come," said Jeffreys. And then, anxious to avoid the painful subject of his character, he added, "I have not taught in a school before, and I have no friends here, so I can't give you any testimonials. But I am well up in cla.s.sics and pretty good in mathematics, and would work hard, ma'am, if you would try me."
"Are you a steady young man? Do you drink?"
"I never touch anything but water; and I am quite steady."
"What wages do you expect?"
"I leave that to you. I will work for nothing for a month till you see if I suit you."
Mrs Trimble liked this. It looked like a genuine offer.
"Are you good-tempered and kind to children?" she asked.
"I am very fond of little boys, and I always try to keep my temper."
His heart sank at the prospect of other questions of this kind. But Mrs Trimble was not of a curious disposition. She knew when she liked a young man and when she didn't, and she valued her own judgment as much as anybody else's testimonials.
"You mustn't expect grand living here," she said.
"I was never used to anything but simple living," said he.
"Very well, Mr --"
"Jeffreys, ma'am."
"Mr Jeffreys, we'll try how we get on for a month; and after that I can offer you a pound a month besides your board."
"You are very kind," said Jeffreys, to whom the offer seemed a magnificent one. "I am ready to begin work at once."
"That will do. You'd better begin now. Come this way to the schoolroom."
CHAPTER SIX.
GALLOWAY HOUSE.
My business-like readers have, I dare say, found fault with me for representing a business conference on which so much depended as having taken place on the front doorstep of Galloway House, and without occupying much more than five minutes in the transaction. How did Jeffreys know what sort of person Mrs Trimble was? She might have been a Fury or a Harpy. Her house might have been badly drained. Mr Fison might have left her because he couldn't get his wages. And what did Mrs Trimble know about the Bolsover cad? She never even asked for a testimonial. He might be a burglar in disguise, or a murderer, or a child-eater. And yet these two foolish people struck a bargain with one another five minutes after their first introduction, and before even the potatoes which Mrs Trimble had left on her plate when she went to the door had had time to get cold.
I am just as much surprised as the reader at their rashness, which I can only account for by supposing that they were both what the reader would call "hard up." Jeffreys, as we know, was very hard up; and as for Mrs Trimble, the amount of worry she had endured since Mr Fison had left was beyond all words. She had had to teach as well as manage, the thing she never liked. And her son and a.s.sistant, without a second usher to keep him steady, had been turning her hair grey. For three weeks she had waited in vain. Several promising-looking young men had come and looked at the place and then gone away. She had not been able to enjoy an afternoon's nap for a month. In short, she was getting worn-out.
When, therefore, Jeffreys came and asked for the post, she had to put a check on herself to prevent herself from "jumping down his throat."
Hence the rapid conference at the hall door, and the ease with which Jeffreys got his footing in Galloway House.
"Come and have a bite of mutton," said Mrs Trimble, leading the way into the parlour. "Jonah and I are just having dinner."
Jonah, who, if truth must be told, had been neglecting his inner man during the last five minutes in order to peep through the crack of the door, and overhear the conference in the hall between his mother and the stranger, was a vulgar-looking youth of about Jeffrey's age, with a slight cast in his eye, but otherwise not bad-looking. He eyed the new usher as he entered with a mingled expression of suspicion and contempt; and Jeffreys, slow of apprehension though he usually was, knew at a glance that he had not fallen on a bed of roses at Galloway House.
"Jonah, this is Mr Jeffreys; I've taken him on in Fison's place. My son, Mr Jeffreys."
Jonah made a face at his mother, as much as to say, "I don't admire your choice," and then, with a half-nod at Jeffreys, said,--
"Ah, how are you?"
"Jonah and I always dine at twelve, Mr Jeffreys," said Mrs Trimble, over whom the prospect of the afternoon's nap was beginning to cast a balmy sense of ease. "You two young men will be good friends, I hope, and look well after the boys."
"More than you do," said the undutiful Jonah; "they've been doing just as they please the last month."
"It's a pity, Jonah, you never found fault with that before."
"What's the use of finding fault? No end to it when you once begin."
"Well," observed the easy-going matron, "you two will have to see I don't have occasion to find fault with you."
Jonah laughed, and asked Jeffreys to cut him a slice of bread.
Presently Mrs Trimble quitted the festive board, and the two ushers were left together.
"Lucky for you," said young Trimble, "you got hold of ma and pinned her down to taking you on on the spot. What's she going to pay you?"