Working in the Shade Part 6

Such were the old man and his establishment. His business was that of a miscellaneous salesman, the difficulty being rather to say what he did not than what he did offer to his various customers. The front part of his van was hung with all sorts of hardware, inside and out; but, besides this, there were, within, secret drawers and cupboards containing articles which would not bear exhibition to the public--such as smuggled goods, both wearable and drinkable, which Ruby knew how to procure at a very low price, and could always part with confidentially for a sum which both suited the pockets of the purchasers, and also brought considerable profit to himself. Among his secret wares were also immoral songs, and impure and infidel books, for which he had many eager buyers, especially in such places as Bridgepath. He had his regular rounds, and his special customers, and was in the habit of attending all the feasts and fairs for many miles round.

It need hardly be said that poor Ruby knew nothing and cared nothing about better things; his heart was wholly in the world, and in making money as fast as he could, by hook or by crook,--and in this he was succeeding. For though the poor man and his wife were utterly G.o.dless, and even profane, yet Ruby was no drunkard; he loved his gla.s.s, it is true, but he loved money more, and so he always contrived to keep a clear head and a steady eye and hand. He also took good care of his horse and dog for his own sake, as he wanted to make the best and the longest of their services, and was shrewd enough to know that you cannot get out of anything, whether animate or inanimate, more than is put into it. So self and wife, and horse and dog were all well fed and cared for, and worked harmoniously together.

This was the man to whom the poor drunkard pointed his pipe and sneeringly invited Horace Jackson to try and do him good. The young man shrunk at first instinctively from coming in contact with old Reuben.

Surely there was abundance of self-denying work in looking after the inhabitants of the hamlet itself; why then need he concern himself about a man who was only a pa.s.ser through, and had no special claim on his attention? Half-satisfied with these thoughts, Horace Jackson was about to proceed homewards, when it seemed to him that a voice, as it were, said within him, "Accept the work; it may not be in vain." Though still reluctant, he now felt that he could no longer hang back; so he crossed the green, and greeted the old hawker kindly.

Ruby looked up at him with a comical twinkle in his one eye, and, knocking out the ashes from his pipe, observed, "So you be the young gent as is turning all things topsy-turvy in this here village--you and the colonel between you. I've heard all about it; and a precious mess you'll make of it, I doubt."

"My friend," said Horace, now perfectly relieved from all feeling of disinclination to encounter the old man, "you make a little mistake there: when we came here we _found_ things topsy-turvy already, and we are just trying, by G.o.d's help, to set them upright and straight."

"And I suppose you think as you're going to do it," said the other scornfully.

"Yes, I hope so," was the reply. "Come, my friend, now tell me honestly, isn't it happier for the people of this village to have a good school and a good schoolmaster set down amongst them than to be living as they used to do, without proper instruction for the children, and without any knowledge of G.o.d and a better world?"

"Can't say as to that," said Ruby Grigg doubtfully, and a little sulkily; "there's lots of people here as likes the old ways better."

"Perhaps so," said Horace; "but they may be wrong in what they like.

Now, I ask you again--tell me honestly--don't you see a change for the better yourself in Bridgepath?"

"Well, I don't know," replied the old man, fidgeting about; "it's been a worse change for me. I ain't done anything like the business this time as I use doing here, leastways in some things."

Horace had now seated himself by the old man, spite of a deep growl from Grip, whose nearer approach was cut short by a backhanded slap from his master.

"Look there now, old friend," continued the young man. At this moment the school doors were thrown open, and out poured a stream of boys and girls, tumbling one over another in their excitement, and singing gaily as they began to disperse over the green. But all suddenly stopped, for the schoolmaster made his appearance, and all cl.u.s.tered round him.

School was over, and what was going to happen now? In former days the sight of the master would have been a signal for every boy and girl to slink out of reach of his observation; but now the master's coming was hailed with a happy shout, and the young ones vied with one another in getting near him, while the youngest clung to his dress, and all looked up at him with bright and happy smiles. Horace turned towards the old man, and marked a flush on his worn and weather-beaten features.

"That's a sight worth seeing, my friend," he added; "I think it used not to be so."

Reuben made no answer. His eye seemed to be gazing at something beyond the busy scene before him.

"You've never had any children of your own, it may be," said Horace, noticing his absent look.

Slowly the old man turned towards his companion, his face was now quite pale, and tears began to steal down its deep furrows. "I've never a child now," he said in a hoa.r.s.e and troubled voice, "but I had once--a blessed little 'un she were, but she died."

"It may be, friend," said the young man gently, "that the Lord took her in mercy from the evil to come. Did she die very young?"

Reuben Gregson seemed unable to reply for a while, then he said slowly, and apparently with a great effort, "Ay, sir, very young, and she were all the boys and girls I ever had. She were but five year old when she died, but she died happy, poor thing. It's more nor thirty years now since she left us."

"And she died happy, you say?" asked Horace, deeply touched. "Did she know anything of her Saviour?"

"I believe you," replied the other earnestly, "yes. There were a good young lady--she ain't living now--as seed her playing about by the roadside one day, and gave her this book." Ruby drew out from his breast-pocket a large faded leathern case, and from its inmost depths brought out a small picture-book full of coloured Scripture prints. The frontispiece represented our Saviour hanging on the cross, and was much worn, as with the pressure of little fingers. "There, sir," continued the old man, "the young lady showed her them pictures, and talked to her about 'em, and particular about Him as was nailed to the cross. We was staying on a common near her house for a week or more, and each day that young lady came and had a talk to our little Bessy. And she never forgot what the lady said to her. And so, when she were took with the fever, some weeks arter that, when we was far-off from where the lady lived, her last words was, 'Daddy, I'm going to Jesus, 'cos he said, "Suffer the little children to come to me."' There, sir, I've told you now what I haven't spoken to n.o.body else these thirty years."

"And won't you follow your dear child to the better land?" asked Horace kindly; "there's room in our Saviour's heart and home for you too."

"I don't know, I don't know," said the other gloomily; "these things ain't in my line. Besides, I'm too old and too hard now; it's no use for such as me to think about 'em."

Horace said nothing immediately, but taking out a little New Testament, he read out, without any comment, the parables of the lost sheep and the lost piece of silver. Then he said, "Old friend, I am so glad we have met. Will you accept this little book from me? It will tell you better than I can all about the loving Saviour, who has taken that dear child to himself, and wants you and your wife to follow her."

Without saying a word Ruby clutched the Testament, thrust it into his breast-pocket and then, rising hastily, said, "I wish you good day, sir; maybe we shall meet again. Thank you kindly for the little book."

"Farewell for the present," said Horace. "Yes, I believe we shall meet again," and he turned his steps homewards, deeply thankful that he had not declined the work which was so unexpectedly thrust upon him.

CHAPTER TEN.

A ROUGH JEWEL POLISHED.

Some months had pa.s.sed since Horace Jackson's brief conversation with Ruby Grigg on the green at Bridgepath, and the good work was making steady progress in that hamlet. A few of the adversaries continued rather noisy and troublesome; but it was observable that these avoided, as by common consent, one particular beer-shop, which used to be a favourite resort of the roughest and most dissolute characters, while the publican himself who kept this house was to be seen, at first occasionally, and now regularly at the service which was held in the schoolroom on the Sunday evenings.

News of this happy change had reached Horace from several quarters, and gave the sincerest pleasure to himself and his uncle. Meditating thankfully on these things, the young man was pa.s.sing one afternoon down a by-lane which led to Bridgepath. It was a lonely spot, far from any house. On either hand the lane was closed in by tall hedges, and a broad belt of turf skirted the rugged road on each side, affording pasture to any stray beasts which might wander thither unbidden. Wild flowers and singing birds filled the untrimmed bushes; while the lowing of cattle, faintly heard from some far-off farm or pasture, added depth to the solitude. With his face turned in the direction of Bridgepath, Horace had just crossed the top of another and narrower lane, which joined at right angles that along which he was walking, and had pa.s.sed the opening about a hundred yards, when he was startled by hearing a voice behind him shouting out, "Hi! Hi! Hi! Mister!" He looked back, and the sight that met his eye was not rea.s.suring. A tall figure, bare- headed and without a coat, was striding after him, tossing its arms about, and brandishing in the right hand a long whip.

The thought at once suggested itself to Horace that this must be some poor lunatic escaped from an asylum, and the idea of a solitary encounter in that lonely spot was not an agreeable one, especially as the young man had no other weapon with him than a thin walking-cane, and he was well aware that these poor creatures, when excited and at liberty, often exhibited great strength of limb, and made use of it without scruple to the detriment of any they might fall in with; so he took no heed of the outcry, and hastened his pace onwards. But this had only the effect of exasperating his pursuer, who bawled out to him to stop, and then began to make after him with a shuffling sort of run. So when Horace looked back, and saw the presumed lunatic thus quickening his speed, and also wildly flourishing his whip, he fairly broke into a run himself, considering that, under the circ.u.mstances, "discretion was," undoubtedly, "the better part of valour." He was, however, arrested in his flight by a roaring burst of laughter from the supposed madman, which made him pause for a moment and turn full round; and then he became convinced that the cause of his anxiety, who was now leaning his back against a bank, and still laughing vociferously, was none other than the old caravan hawker, Ruby Grigg.

As soon as he could recover himself, the old man began to walk quietly forward, motioning to the other to come and meet him. Horace did this, though with some little reluctance, not feeling sure that the old man's excitement might not be caused by either insanity or drink. But he was soon satisfied that all was right on that score, as the two drew nearer together.

"So you took me for a highwayman or a madman, Mr Horace!" said the old man, still laughing. "Eh! I don't wonder; you must have thought it very strange. But I never thought how it'd look when I hollered arter you; I were only afeard you'd get out of hearing, and I've something to tell you as'll make your heart right glad, I know."

"What is it, my friend?"

"Well, can you spare me a few minutes, and I'll tell you? My van's just a few yards down the lane you crossed a minute ago. You didn't look that way as you pa.s.sed, and I didn't take it in at first that it was yourself; and when my wife said, 'There's Mr Horace Jackson just gone by,' I ran to the top of the lane just as I was, whip and all, and shouted arter you. Can you come with me for a minute?"

"With all my heart," replied the other.

So they turned back, and soon reached the van, which was drawn up by the hedge-side, Grip and the old horse strolling about at leisure, and Mrs Gregson being engaged in cooking something savoury in an iron pot which was suspended over an open-air fire, gipsy fashion.

When Horace had seated himself on the bank, the old hawker plunged into his travelling shop, and having returned with something in his right hand, seated himself by his young companion. "It's this here little Testament as has been and gone and done it," he said abruptly, opening his hand at the same time and disclosing the book which Horace had given him at their last meeting.

Greatly surprised and touched at these words, Horace looked earnestly into Reuben's face for an explanation, and as he did so, it struck him that the old expression of cunning had given place to one of gentleness and peace.

"I'll tell you all about it, sir," proceeded the other. "You must know as I haven't been easy in my mind for some time past--never since that new schoolmaster at Bridgepath said a few words to me last feast-day.

You know I often come to the village, 'cos I've some good customers there, and I never used to miss the feast. Well, I'd heard a deal about the new goings on there long afore I set my own eyes on any on 'em, and I weren't best pleased, nor weren't my best customers neither, you may be sure. But still, down in my heart, I couldn't help feeling as things were being changed for the better; yet it didn't quite suit my pocket that they should be, and so I were very cross, and ready to take everything by the wrong handle. So when the schoolmaster came and spoke to me, I were as grumpy at first as a bear with a sore head, as the saying is. But he wouldn't see it--no, not a bit, and talked to me as pleasant as if I'd been all the while looking sugar and honey at him; and I began to feel very uneasy all over. Then, too, I couldn't help seeing as the boys and girls were as different as possible from what they used to be. Many was the time as I've sworn with a big ugly oath as I'd set Grip at them, when they came up and plagued me and wanted to meddle with my goods. But there weren't no need for it now. Yet I stuck out for all that, and talked it over with the keepers of the beer- shops; and we all agreed as it were a great nuisance setting up this new school and reading-room. But we didn't really think so, except that it began to hurt our trade; for this was where the shoe pinched. And then it was, when my mind was a-playing at 'see-saw,' first up on this side, and then up on the other, that you was sent that day to have a talk about the children and my own blessed little 'un, and to give me the Testament. When you was gone, I grumbled to myself at first, 'Precious humbug this! What's the use of a Testament to me? I ain't a-going to pull a long face and sing psalms,' and I were half in the mind to throw it away."

"And what stopped you, old friend?" asked Horace.

"I'll just tell you, sir," replied the other. "When you gave it me, I stuck it in my coat-pocket, next my little girl's picture-book: and when I took it out again, t'other little book came with it, and I couldn't for the life of me do it any harm. So I put 'em both back again side by side; and the next time as we camped in a quiet place, I took the Testament out and began to read a bit out loud. And Sally heard me, and she came and listened with her mouth and eyes wide open, and then asked me what the book was and where I'd got it. I told her all about it; and then she asked me if I thought I could find in the book them last words which our dear little 'un spoke. I told you, sir, you'll remember, as she said, 'Jesus said, "Suffer the little children to come unto me."'

Them was her last words, poor thing! Well, we sat on these steps day after day and hunted for them words between us; and we found 'em at last. But we found something else as we hadn't been looking for. We found a couple of miserable old sinners, Ruby and Sally Grigg, as was going along the broad road to destruction." He paused, for his voice had become choked and troubled.

"And did you find nothing more?" asked Horace, deeply interested.

"Ay, to be sure we did, sir. We found Jesus Christ was willing to have us; and we found peace--not at first, nor all at once, but by degrees, and after a while. Sally were the first to get a firm hold: but I believe I've grasped it myself now, and by G.o.d's help I mean not to let go."

"This is indeed joyful news, dear friend," said Horace Jackson, when he could trust himself to speak. "Who would have thought it?"

"Ay, who indeed?" said Reuben warmly. "And now," he added, "I want a bit of advice, sir, from you, for it ain't all gra.s.s and gravel with me now; there's some deepish ruts and some stony roads before me, and that's why I were so anxious to stop you just now, sir, that I might tell you all about it, and get a word or two from yourself to give us a bit of encouragement."

"I am truly thankful--I can't tell you how thankful," replied the young man. "The Lord has indeed done great things for you, and I shall be only too happy to be helpful to you in any way that I can."

"Thank you, sir, kindly; 'tain't worldly help as I wants from you. I've earned enough for me and Sally to last us as long as we live; and it's almost time as I sold the old van, and settled down somewheres for the rest of my days. But it's just this, sir--I want to do some work for the Lord, who's been and done so much for Sally and me. Now I could, as I said just now, sell the old van and settle down; but then I mightn't be able to do much good, and my old limbs would get stiff for want of my regular exercise, and I should just be snoozing away the rest of my time in a big arm-chair. Now I ain't quite used up, nor Sally neither. So I could keep on the move from place to place, dropping a word for Christ here, and a word there, where I've been used to drop scores of words for the devil; and if you'd put me in the way, I could take a lot of Testaments and other good books with me, and sell 'em instead of the poisonous trash as I used to carry. Now, what do you advise me?"