Reginald Cruden Part 11

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

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

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

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't stop 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 as it is."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, and if we knew as much about book-keeping and agreement stamps and copying presses as his office-boy does, we might be as well off. What's the good of knowing how many ships fought at Salamis, when we don't even know how many ounces you can send by post for twopence? At least, I don'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 presented themselves on the following morning at the workman's entrance of the _Rocket_ Newspaper Company, Limited. The bell was beginning to sound as they did so, and their enemy the timekeeper looked as though he would fain discover a pretext for pouncing on them and giving them a specimen of his importance. But even his ingenuity failed in this respect, and as Horace pa.s.sed him with a good-humoured nod, he had, much against his will, to nod back, and forego his amiable intentions.

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

Among those who displayed no unseemly haste in applying themselves to their tasks was Barber, who, with the dust of the back case-room still in his mind, and equally on his countenance, considered the present opportunity of squaring up accounts with Reginald too good to be neglected. For reasons best known to himself, Mr Barber determined that his victim's flagellation should be moral rather than physical. He would have liked to punch Reginald's head, or, better still, to have knocked Reginald's and Horace's heads together. But he saw reasons for denying himself that pleasure, and fell back on the more ethereal weapons 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 mingled scorn 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't know 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 this intellectual 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 his exquisite humour was not as electrical in its effect as it would have been on any one less dense than the Crudens, "'ow is it you ain't got a clean collar on to-day, and no scent on your 'andkerchers--eh?"

This was getting feeble. Even Mr Barber felt it, for he continued, in a 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 think you're goin' to show us your manners. Yah! if you wasn't such a dirty ugly 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 type out of a case. Horace, on the other hand, appeared to be deeply interested in Mr Barber's eloquent observations, and inquired quite artlessly, but with a twinkle in his eye,--"Is the pump near here? I was looking for it everywhere yesterday."

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

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

"Ugh--trying to be funny, are you, Mr Snubnose? Best try and be honest if 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, and might possibly have received it, had not Mr Durfy's entrance at that particular moment sent the idlers back suddenly to their cases.

Reginald, either heedless of or unconcerned at the new arrival, remained listlessly watching the operations of the compositor near him, an act of audacity 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 wrong side" this morning. For the matter of that, after the blowing-up about the back case-room, he had got into it the wrong side last night, so that he was doubly perturbed in spirit, and a short conversation he had just had with the manager below had not tended to compose him.

"Durfy," said that brusque official, as the overseer pa.s.sed his open door, "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 other one down here. Send him at once, Durfy, do you hear?"

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

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

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

"I'm not interfering with anybody," said Reginald, looking up with glowing 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 pa.s.sion rose; "if you think we're going to keep you here to give us any of your impudence you're mistaken; so I can tell you. It's bad enough to have a big 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 to keep you away. Go to your work."