To The West Part 12

"And when we are gone what will you do?"

"Obtain some situation, I hope."

"You hope, my boy. It is a poor prospect, that. I do not like to say, come with us to this new land, though I believe any enterprising lad would be sure to make his way."

"Then why shouldn't I come?"

"Because prosperity will have to be fought for, and obtained at so great a cost. Civilisation has to be left behind. It will be a rough life."

"But if a delicate lady could bear it, why should not I?"

"I have told you why I could bear it," she said, smiling. "You must not judge hastily, Mayne. I am afraid to say come."

"Would you both like me to come?" I said, looking from one to the other.

"For our own sakes, yes. For yours we are afraid to speak," said Mrs John, and her husband nodded his acquiescence in her words.

"Then I shall come," I said, firmly. "Not with you. I shall go by sea."

"You will go?" cried Mr John, looking at me wonderingly.

"Yes, sir; and perhaps I shall get there first."

"But, my dear boy, how?"

"I don't know, sir," I said, laughing; "I am going to talk to a man I know, and--Oh, I had forgotten!"

"Forgotten what?"

"Esau," I said, "the lad who worked with me in the office."

Mr John looked at his wife in a perplexed way.

"Let us think about it all," said Mrs John. "This companion of yours-- Esau--do you like him?"

"Oh, yes," I cried; "he has always been most kind, and he wants to go with me--for us to be together."

I did not grasp it so well then as I did afterwards, though I had an undefined feeling that my fellow clerk's company would not be agreeable to them; and when I left them that night, it was with the feeling that it was quite certain that my new friends would start, possibly before the month was out; while as far as I was concerned, my prospects were very much as they were.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT.

That night when I got back to Camberwell, I found that not only had supper been ready above an hour, but Mrs Dean and Esau were both waiting for me to join them.

"I thought we'd make a sort of a party of it," said Esau, "only not ask anybody, so that we could enjoy ourselves, though if that policeman was anywhere near, and old Dingle wasn't so far off, I should like to have had them in."

"Oh, I am glad you've come," cried Mrs Dean, "for Esau has been going on so."

"Only," continued Esau, ignoring his mother's words, "you couldn't ask old Dingle without asking his wife and twelve children, and that would take such a lot of plates, without counting the pie mother's made, and that's only just enough for three."

"But why have you got such a grand hot supper?" I said.

"Because of its being a holiday, and because we're going to make a fresh start in life over there in the woods."

"Esau, my dear, don't, pray don't," whimpered his mother. "It was bad enough sitting up for you all night, and you not coming, but it's far worse when you will go on like that."

"Come, sit down, Mr Gordon. I'm as hungry as can be. Why you know you went to sleep, mother."

"I didn't, my dear. I never had a wink all night for expecting you."

"Well, how could I help it, mother? We should have been home safe enough if we hadn't been locked up in a dun John."

"Yes, and my boy in custody--in prison. Oh dear me! oh dear me!"

"Ah!" shouted Esau, striking the table hard with a spoon. "You dare to cry again, and I won't eat a bit of supper."

"But I can't help it, Esau," sobbed the poor little woman; "I declare I've been seeing nothing but policemen and prison vans ever since you told me where you had been."

"All comes o' getting into bad company, mother," said Esau, cutting the steaming steak pie. "There; that's an extra spoonful o' gravy for you if you promise not to cry."

He pa.s.sed a plate to where his mother sat, and began to help me.

"Bad company's the ruin of all boys," continued Esau, laughing at me.

"Look at Mr Gordon's ear, and that mark on his face."

"Oh, my dear," cried Mrs Dean, "my eyes were so dim, I didn't see. Is it very bad?"

"'Course you couldn't see," cried Esau, "if you keep on crying. Why you ought to laugh for joy to think Mr Gordon and me's got out of bad company, and left old Dempster for good."

"I am glad, my dear, if it's for your good, I'm sure. Let me give you a hot baked potato, Mr Gordon, my dear. But Esau has been going on in the wildest way--says he shall start across the sea to some dreadful place."

"That I didn't, mother; I said it was a lovely place. There you are, master. Mr Esau Dean, may I have the pleasure of helping you to some poy?"

"He says he shall be an emigrant, my dear, and shall go and build himself a house in the woods."

"Well," said Esau, helping himself quickly, "there's no room here in London to build one, and if there was the people wouldn't let me have the ground."

"And it's all madness, and wild as wild."

"Well, you might give your poor son, who has just escaped outer prison, a hot potato," said Esau, grinning at me again.

"Oh, my dear, I beg your pardon. There, let me help you. That's a beauty."

"Then why didn't you give it to Mr Gordon?"

"Do be quiet, my dear. How you do talk. I really think you're half crazy."