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A Rough Shaking, a novel by George MacDonald |
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Chapter 30. The Draper |
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_ Chapter XXX. The draper At the shop of a draper and haberdasher, where one might buy almost anything sold, Clare's new friend stopped and walked in. He asked to see Mr. Maidstone, and a shopman went to fetch him from behind. He came out into the public floor. "I heard you were in want of a boy, sir," said the baker, who carried himself as in the presence of a superior; and certainly fine clothes and a gold chain and ring did what they could to make the draper superior to the baker. "Hm!" said Mr. Maidstone, looking with contempt at Clare. "I rather liked the look of this poor boy, and ventured to bring him on approval," continued the baker timidly. "He ain't much to look at, I confess!" "Hm!" said the draper again. "He don't look promising!" "He don't. But I think he means performing," said the baker, with a wan smile. "Donnow, I'm sure! If he 'appened to wash his face, I could tell better!" Clare thought he had washed it pretty well that morning because of his cut, though he had, to be sure, done it without soap, and had been at rather dirty work since! "He says he's been too hungry to wash his face," answered the baker. "Didn't 'ave his 'ot water in time, I suppose!--Will you answer for him, Mr. Ball?" "I can't, Mr. Maidstone--not one way or another. I simply was taken with him. I know nothing about him." Here one of the shopmen came up to his master, and said, "I heard Mr. Ball's own man yesterday accuse this very boy of taking a loaf from his cart." "Yesterday!" thought Clare; "it seems a week ago!" "Oh! this is the boy, is it?" said the baker. "You see I didn't know him! All the same, I don't believe he took the loaf." "Indeed I didn't, sir! Another boy took it who didn't know better, and I took it from him, and was putting it back on the cart when the man turned round and saw me, and wouldn't listen to a word I said. But a working-man believed me, and bought the loaf, and gave it between us." "A likely story!" said the draper. "I've heard that much," said the baker, "and I believe it. At least I have no reason to believe my man against him, Mr. Maidstone. That same night I discovered he had been cheating me to a merry tune. I discharged him this morning." "Well, he certainly don't look a respectable boy," said the draper, who naturally, being all surface himself, could read no deeper than clothes; "but I'm greatly in want of one to carry out parcels, and I don't mind if I try him. If he do steal anything, he'll be caught within the hour!" "Oh, thank you, sir!" said Clare. "You shall have sixpence a day," Mr. Maidstone continued, "--not a penny more till I'm sure you're an honest boy." "Thank you, sir," iterated Clare. "Please may I run home first? I won't be long. I 'ain't got any other clothes, but----" "Hold your long tongue. Don't let me hear it wagging in my establishment. Go and wash your face and hands." Clare turned to the baker. "Please, sir," he said softly, "may I go back with you and get the piece of bread?" "What! begging already!" cried Mr. Maidstone. "No, no, sir," interposed the baker. "I promised him a piece of bread. He did not ask for it." The good man was pleased at his success, and began to regard Clare with the favour that springs in the heart of him who has done a good turn to another through a third. Had he helped him out of his own pocket, he might not have been so much pleased. But there had been no loss, and there was no risk! He had beside shown his influence with a superior! "I am so much obliged to you, sir!" said Clare as they went away together. "I cannot tell you how much!" He was tempted to open his heart and reveal the fact that three people would live on the sixpence a day which the baker's kindness had procured him, but prudence was fast coming frontward, and he saw that no one must know that they were in that house! If it were known, they would probably be turned out at once, which would go far to be fatal to them as a family. For, if he had to pay for lodgings, were it no more than the tramps paid Tommy's grandmother, sixpence a day would not suffice for bare shelter. So he held his tongue. "Thank me by minding Mr. Maidstone's interests," returned his benefactor. "If you don't do well by him, the blame will come upon me." "I will be very careful, sir," answered Clare, who was too full of honesty to think of being honest; he thought only of minding orders. They reached the shop; the baker gave him a small loaf, and he hurried home with it The joy in his heart, spread over the days since he left the farm, would have given each a fair amount of gladness. Taking heed that no one saw him, he darted through the passage to the well, got across it better this time, rushed over the wall like a cat, fell on the other side from the unsteadiness of his potsherds, rose and hurried into the house, with the feeble wail of his baby in his ears. _ |
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