To The West Part 3

It was my fellow-clerk's proposal that I should join them, and I had good cause to be grateful, the place being delightfully clean, and little, quaint, homely Mrs Dean looking upon me as a lodger who was to be treated with the greatest of respect.

"Shan't go for a soldier to-night!" said Esau, throwing himself back in his chair, after we had finished our tea.

"I should think not indeed," cried his mother. "Esau, I'm ashamed of you for talking like that. Has he been saying anything about it to you, Master Gordon?"

"Oh, yes, but he don't mean it," I replied. "It's only when he's cross."

"Has master been scolding him then again?"

"Scolding?" cried Esau scornfully, "why he never does nothing else."

"Then you must have given him cause, Esau dear. Master Gordon, what had he done?"

"Mr Dempster caught him asleep."

"Well, I couldn't help it. My head was so heavy."

"Yes," sighed Mrs Dean, "his head always was very heavy, poor boy. He goes to sleep at such strange times too, sir."

"Well, don't tell him that, mother," cried Esau. "You tell everybody."

"Well, dear, there's no harm in it. I never said it was your fault.

Lots of times, Master Gordon, I've known him go to sleep when at play, and once I found him quite fast with his mouth full of bread and b.u.t.ter."

"Such stuff!" grumbled Esau, angrily.

"It is quite true, Master Gordon. He always was a drowsy boy."

"Make anybody drowsy to keep on writing lots and figures," grumbled Esau. "Heigho--ha--hum!" he yawned. "I shan't be very long before I go to bed."

He kept his word, and I took a book and sat down by the little fire to read; but though I kept on turning over the pages, I did not follow the text; for I was either thinking about Mrs Dean's needle as it darted in and out of the stuff she was sewing, or else about Mr John Dempster and our meeting that day--of how I had promised to go up and see him on Sunday, and how different he was to his cousin.

The time must have gone fast, for when the clock began to strike, it went on up to ten; and I was thinking it was impossible that it could be so late, when I happened to glance across at little Mrs Dean, whose work had dropped into her lap, and she was as fast asleep then as her son had been at the office hours before.

CHAPTER THREE.

MY NEW FRIENDS.

Poor Esau and I had had a hard time at the office, for it seemed that my patient forbearing way of receiving all the fault-finding made Mr Dempster go home at night to invent unpleasant things to say, till, as I had listened, it had seemed as if my blood boiled, and a hot sensation came into my throat.

All this had greatly increased by the Sat.u.r.day afternoon, and had set me thinking that there was something in what Esau said, and that I should be better anywhere than where I was.

But on the Sunday afternoon, as I walked up the sunny road to Kentish Town, and turned down a side street of small old-looking houses, each with its bit of garden and flowers, everything looked so bright and pleasant, even there, that my spirits began to rise; and all the more from the fact that at one of the cottage-like places with its porch and flowers, there were three cages outside, two of whose inmates, a lark and a canary, were singing loudly and making the place ring.

It is curious how a musical sound takes one back to the past. In an instant as I walked on, I was seeing the bright river down at home, with the boat gliding along, the roach and dace flashing away to right and left, the chub scurrying from under the willows, the water-weeds and white b.u.t.tercups brushing against the sides, and the lark singing high overhead in the blue sky.

London and its smoke were gone, and the houses to right and left had no existence for me then, till I was suddenly brought back to the present by a hand being laid on my shoulder, and a familiar voice saying--

"Mr Gordon! Had you forgotten the address? You have pa.s.sed the house!"

As these words were uttered a hand grasped mine very warmly, and I was looking in the thin, worn, pleasant features of Mr John Dempster, which seemed far brighter than when I saw him at the office.

"Very, very glad to see you, my dear young friend," he cried, taking my arm. "My wife and I have been looking forward to this day; she is very eager to make your acquaintance."

To my surprise he led me back to the little house where the birds were singing, and I could not help glancing at him wonderingly, for I had fully expected to find him living in a state of poverty, whereas everything looked neat and good and plain.

"Give me your hat," he said, as we stood in the pa.s.sage. "That's right.

Now in here. Alexes, my dear, this is my young friend, Mr Gordon."

"I am very glad you have come," said a sweet, musical voice; and my hand was taken by a graceful-looking lady, who must once have been very beautiful. "You are hot and tired. Come and sit down here."

I felt hot and uncomfortable, everything was so different from what I had expected; for the room was not in the least shabby, and the tea-things placed ready added to the pleasant home-like aspect of the place.

"You have not walked?" said Mr John Dempster.

"Oh, yes," I replied.

"From--where?"

I told him.

"Camberwell? And I was so unreasonable as to ask you to come all this way."

I did not know how it was, but I somehow felt as if I had come to visit some very old friends, and in quite a short time we were chatting confidentially about our affairs. They soon knew all about my own home, and my life since I left school so suddenly; and on my side I learned that Mrs John Dempster had had a very serious illness, but was recovering slowly, and that they were contemplating going abroad, the doctors having said that she must not stay in our damp climate for another winter.

I learned, too, that, as Mr John Dempster said, when things came to the worst they improved. It had been so here, for the night after his visit to his cousin in the city, a letter had come from Mrs John Dempster's brother, who was in the North-west--wherever that might be--and their temporary troubles were at an end.

That would have been a delightfully pleasant meal but for one thing. No allusion was made to the visit to the city, and though I sat trembling, for fear they should both begin to thank me for my offer, not a word was said. The tea was simple. The flowers on the table and in the window smelled sweetly, and the birds sang, while there was something about Mrs John that fascinated me, and set me thinking about the happy old days at home.

The one unpleasantly was the conduct of the little maid they kept. She was a round rosy-faced girl of about fifteen, I suppose, but dressed in every respect, cap and ap.r.o.n and all, like a woman of five-and-twenty.

In fact she looked like a small-sized woman with very hard-looking shiny dark eyes.

Upon her first entrance into the room bearing a bright tin kettle, for the moment I thought that as she looked so fierce, it was she who uttered little snorts, hisses, and sputtering noises. But of course it was only the kettle, for she merely looked at me angrily and gave a defiant sniff. As the evening went on, I found that this was Maria, and it soon became evident that Maria did not like me, but looked upon me as a kind of intruder, of whom she was as jealous as a girl of her cla.s.s could be.

Pleasant evenings always pa.s.s too rapidly, and it was so here; I could not believe it when the hands of the little clock on the chimney-piece pointed to nine, and I rose to go.

"How soon it seems!" sighed Mrs John. "Well, Mayne,"--it had soon come to that--"you must call and see us again very soon--while we are here,"

she added, slowly.

"Ah, and who knows but what he may come when we are far away!" said Mr John. "The world is only a small place after all."

"Where should you go?" I said, earnestly. "I would come if I could."

"Possibly to Canada," said Mr John. "But there, we are not gone yet.

You will not feel lonely, dear, if I walk a little way with our visitor?"