Dick Lionheart Part 8

"Your loving friend, d.i.c.k."

"I've got slops and overalls just like the other men, to work in, and I'm going to a night school and a technical cla.s.s, and Mr. Dainton has lent me a big book about engines, with pictures all through.

"I should like to know how baby Lily is at Mrs. Fowley's, if you could find out, and whether they were vexed at my running away. But please don't tell them I am here.

"d.i.c.k."

This letter gave Paddy so much pleasure when it reached him that his first impulse was to take it to the "Brown Bear" and read it to some of his cronies there, just for the joy of sharing it.

But better thoughts came.

"And shure if I hearkened to the good book he was reading that night and what he says here about the drink I should never touch the beer again at all, at all. He said we could all be Lionhearts, and that G.o.d wouldn't like to go into them places with me. And he says again here that G.o.d does answer when we pray. Maybe if I went round to d.i.c.k's teacher and signed the pledge the Almighty would help me to keep it, and then I could save a bit of money and go to Ironboro' too."

Paddy had been sitting by his little fire after tea when the letter came, and he sat on for a long while, staring into the bright coals and seeing in fancy d.i.c.k's pleading face again. Suddenly he got down awkwardly upon his knees, and with the letter in his hand prayed his first real prayer.

And that night he signed the pledge and hung up the card over his mantelpiece where all might see it, and the sight of his own name, put to such a promise, was a continual help to him in the fight that lay before him.

CHAPTER VIII.

LIONHEART'S BRAVE STAND.

Paddy's courage and determination were soon put to the test. He had been a bar favourite so long that his absence was soon noticed, and the men he had so often entertained and treated were loud in their complaints and jeers. The ridicule was hard enough to bear, but the sneers at his stingy ways hurt him most.

For Paddy's warm Irish heart loved to give, and to make pleasure for others, and many a time he had spent his last coin in treating a comrade.

The publicans, too, missed his songs and merry stories, that always led to rounds of applause and renewed treating. The landlord of the "Brown Bear" stood at his door to watch for Paddy, and offers of free drinks and boisterous welcome met him almost every night.

But he had learned to distrust his own strength, and to lean upon the promised help of G.o.d. Night and morning he knelt by his chair and prayed for the victory, and with the thought of Lionheart to help him he went out to the battle girded with the strength that never fails.

On the first wage night after signing the pledge he went straight to the Post Office and put a good portion of his money into the Savings Bank, and then went home by a roundabout way to avoid the public-houses. "It's no use to pray 'Lead us not into temptation' and then go right by the Bear's Den when you aren't obloiged to," he said to himself.

He bought a large print New Testament and spelled out a chapter before he went to bed--the chapter which told of the Prodigal going home to the Father's house, and the sweet sense of G.o.d's forgiveness for all his wasted years, made him feel so happy that he could not sleep for a long while.

"I'll save me money and go after that boy to Ironboro', for shure; it's to him I owe it all. And maybe we could help one another there, for something tells me he'll still need a friend."

And truly d.i.c.k had not been long in the cleaning shed before his trials began. The man who had offered him beer on his first day was Jem Whatman's father, and d.i.c.k's quiet refusal had angered him greatly, and his threat to make him know better had not been an idle one.

"We'll have no Band-of-Hopers amongst us jokers, eh mates?" he said with rough wit, a few days afterwards.

"So look here, young 'un, the boss is out of the way, and you take this shilling and nip across to the 'Jolly Founders' and fetch half-a-gallon of fivepenny in this jar. We'll soon see where your teetotalling will be." The other workers in the shed applauded loudly at the prospect of a drink and some fun into the bargain.

But d.i.c.k had spent a very serious quarter of an hour on his first day in reading the Rules posted up conspicuously in every workshop, and one of them said, "No intoxicating drinks must be fetched during working hours."

So he looked up bravely and said, "I can't do that, for it would be breaking the rules to fetch beer. Besides, I can't go inside a public-house, at any time.

"Rules be hanged!" said Whatman fiercely. "You are here to do as you're told and not to cheek your betters. Quick! Off with the jar, or it'll be the worse for you."

But d.i.c.k stood still, while the thought of Lionheart gave him courage.

"I'll do anything for you that's right, but I can't do that," he said bravely. "I'll never go into a public-house, and the rules are up there as plain as can be." And he pointed to the glazed and somewhat dingy copy of rules and regulations on the wall.

"You young impudence, I'll teach you!" said Whatman in ungovernable rage. "If you don't go this minute I'll give you such a hiding as you'll never forget. I owe you one for interfering with Jem the other day."

But d.i.c.k did not move, and his brown eyes met Whatman's angry scowl without shrinking.

Suddenly, Hal Smith, one of the other lads, said, "Here, Whatman, I'll fetch it this time, same as I have before, and we'll make him have a drink, and that will put a stop to his teetotal whining."

Seizing the jar and looking out cautiously to see that the coast was clear, he hurried off, while Whatman, muttering angrily, turned away.

d.i.c.k went on with his cleaning of some bra.s.s fittings, polishing and rubbing till they shone like gold.

But while his hands worked vigorously his thoughts were away beyond the grimy shed and the troubles of the hour, seeking One who said, "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee."

He needed all his faith a few minutes afterwards, when Hal came back with the foaming jar.

"Now, young sir," said Whatman, with mock politeness, "you'll drink best respects to us in this here cup of beer. Every drop, mind! What, you won't have it? Here, Smith and Perkins, hold his head while I pour it down. He's got to learn manners!"

d.i.c.k struggled violently in his captors' hands and almost got free.

But the men were too strong for him, and he was held fast.

Clenching his teeth and resolved to choke rather than swallow it he waited till the cup was at his lips, and then, with a sudden jerk of his head, knocked it aside and caused the stream of brown liquid to fall on the dirty floor.

Whatman's answer to this was a violent blow that made blue and green stars dance before the boy's eyes and almost stunned him.

"What is going on here?" said a stern voice in the doorway. Instantly the men closed round the jar, hoping to hide it, but Macleod, the Scotch foreman, was not easily hoodwinked.

"Drinking and fighting too. What do you mean by it?"

"It's this young rascal here," said Whatman. "Cheeking us and drinking our beer."

d.i.c.k was too dazed to answer, but there was no need. Macleod had seen the cowardly blow. "Your beer? And how did that jar get here at this time of day? I shall report you, Whatman and Smith; you've had warnings enough, I should say, but one of these times will be the last.

And if you put upon this boy again you'll have to reckon with Dainton and me. He's under Dainton's care, anyhow, and you haven't heard the last of this, I can tell you."

For the time Whatman and the other men were silenced, but d.i.c.k had a black eye, as the result of the blow, and the reason had to be told when he went to Mr. Dainton's that evening to tea.

For Teddy had come home from his visit to the country, and d.i.c.k was eager to see the brother of whom little Nellie talked so much.

He was a fun-loving urchin who never spent a minute more over his lessons than he could possibly help, and was only clever in getting into mischief and, at d.i.c.k's age, was far behind him in learning.

In his frequent visits to his grandmother's farm he had been allowed too much of his own way, and his father grumbled and threatened to stop this spoiling, by keeping him at home.

To ride, bare backed, the farm colts and to go fishing and birds'

nesting at all hours was far more pleasant than sitting at a school desk and bothering one's head with fractions, and over the tea table he spoke his mind.