My Friend Smith

Jack and I had at least the relief of feeling that so far we ourselves were the only sufferers by our hospitality to our little ragam.u.f.fin acquaintance.

But more was to come of this adventure, as the reader will see.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

HOW SMITH WENT HOME AND I TOOK PART IN AN EVENING PARTY.

Two days after the events recorded in the last chapter something happened which materially affected the course of my life in London.

Smith and I were just starting off to the office, after having finally made our submission to Mrs Nash, and induced her, with a promise "never to do it again," to withdraw her threat to turn us out, when the postman appeared coming round the corner.

It was a comparatively rare sight in Beadle Square, and Jack and I naturally felt our curiosity excited.

"May as well see if there's anything for me," said I, who had only once heard from my affectionate relative in six months.

Jack laughed. "I never saw such a fellow," said he, "for expecting things. It's just as likely there's a letter for me as for you."

At this moment the postman came up with a letter in his hand in apparent perplexity.

"Anything for me?" I said.

"Not unless your name's Smith," said the postman. "Smith of Beadle Square, that's the party--might as well send a letter to a straw in a haystack."

"My name's Smith," said Jack.

"Is it?" said the postman, evidently relieved. "Then I suppose it's all right."

So saying he placed the letter in Jack's hand and walked on, evidently quite proud to have found out a Smith at first shot.

Jack's colour changed as he took the letter and looked at it.

He evidently recognised the cramped, ill-formed hand in which it was addressed.

"It's from Packworth!" he exclaimed, as he eagerly tore open the envelope.

I don't think he intended the remark for me, for we had never once referred either to his home or his relatives since the first day we were together in London. In fact, I had almost come to forget that my friend Smith had a home anywhere but in Beadle Square.

He glanced rapidly over the short scrawl, and as he did so his face turned pale and a quick exclamation escaped his lips.

"Anything wrong, old man?" I asked.

"Yes," said he, looking up with a face full of trouble. "Here, you can see it," he added, putting the letter into my hand.

It was a very short letter, and ran thus:--

"Dear

"Mary is my sister," said Jack, nearly breaking down. "I must go, whether Barnacle lets me or no."

Our walk to the office that morning was quicker than usual, and more silent. Poor Jack was in no mood for conversation, and I fancied it would be kinder not to worry him. We reached Hawk Street before any of the partners had come, and Smith's patience was sorely tried by the waiting.

"I say," said he presently to me, "I must go, Fred. Will you tell them?"

"Yes, if you like, only--"

"Now then, you two," cried Mr Doubleday, looking round; "there you are, larking about as usual. Go off to your work, young Import, do you hear?

and don't stand grinning there!"

Poor Jack looked like anything but grinning at that moment.

"I'll do the best I can," I said, "but I'm afraid Barnacle will be in a wax unless you ask him yourself."

"I can't help it," said Jack, "I must go."

"Eh? what's that?" said Doubleday, who was near enough to hear this conversation; "who must go?"

"Smith has just heard that his sister's ill," I said, by way of explanation, and hoping to enlist the chief clerk's sympathy, "and he must go to her, that's all."

"Hullo!" interposed Crow, "you don't mean to say he's got a sister. My eyes, what a caution! Fancy a female bull's-eye, Wallop, eh?"

"So you may say," said Wallop the cad, laughing. "I guess I wouldn't fancy her, if she's like brother Johnny."

"And he's got to go to her, poor dear thing, because she's got a cold in her nose or something of the sort. Jolly excuse to get off work. I wish _I'd_ got a sister to be ill too."

"Never mind," said Wallop; "if you'd been brought up in gaol you'd be subject to colds. It's a rare draughty place is Newgate."

No one but myself had noticed Jack during this brief conversation. His face, already pale and troubled, grew livid as the dialogue proceeded, and finally he could restrain himself no longer.

Das.h.i.+ng from his desk, he flew at Wallop like a young wolf, and before that facetious young gentleman knew where he was he was lying at full length on the floor, and Jack standing over him, trembling with fury from head to foot.

It was the work of an instant, and before more mischief could be done Doubleday had interposed.

"Look here," said he, catching Jack by the arm and drawing him away from his adversary, "we aren't used to that here, I can tell you! Go to your desk! Do you hear? There's the governor coming up! A nice row you'll get us into with your temper! Come, you Wallop, up you get, I say--you beast! I'm jolly glad the young 'un walked into you. Serves you right!

Look alive, or you'll be n.o.bbled!"

The result of these exertions was that when the door opened half a minute later the office was, to all appearance, as quiet as usual.

To our surprise, the comer was not Mr Barnacle, who usually arrived first, but Mr Merrett, who on other days hardly ever put in an appearance till an hour later.

What was the reason of this reversal of the order of things we could not say, and did not much care. Indeed, it was rather a relief to see the mild senior partner instead of the sharp-eyed junior, who was, some of us thought, far too quick to perceive anything amiss. Jack's face brightened as much as any one's at the circ.u.mstance. For a moment he forgot all his wrath, and thought only of his poor sister.

He followed Mr Merrett quickly to the door of the partners' room and said eagerly, "May I speak to you a moment, sir?"

"Yes, my man; come in," was the encouraging reply.

"Gone to tell tales, I suppose," said Crow, as the door closed on the two.