My Friend Smith

"Why, I offended you just now, when you meant to be kind."

"No you didn't," said I. "I know there are some things you don't like to talk about, and I--I've no right to ask you about them."

Jack lay silent for some minutes. Then he whispered--

"Old man, you can keep a secret, can't you?"

"Yes," I said, wondering what was coming.

"I've never told it to anybody yet; but somehow it's awful having no one to talk to," he said.

"What is it, Jack?" I asked. "I won't tell a soul."

He crept closer to me, and his voice dropped to a lower whisper as he said, "Fred--_my father is a convict_!"

I was too bewildered and shocked to speak. All I could do was to take the hand which lay on my arm and hold it in mine. This then was Jack's mystery. This explained his nervous avoidance of all references to home, his sudden changes of manner both at Stonebridge House and in London. Poor Jack!

We neither of us spoke for some time; then, as if in answer to the questions I longed to ask, he continued, "I hardly ever saw him. When mother died he went nearly mad and took to drinking, so Mrs s.h.i.+eld told me, and left home. No one heard of him again till it was discovered he had forged on his employers. I remember their coming and looking for him at M--, where we then lived. He wasn't there, but they found him in London, and,"--here Jack groaned--"he was transported."

"Poor Jack!" was all I could say. "How dreadful for you all!"

We said no more that night, but as we lay arm in arm, and presently fell asleep, I think we both felt we were bound together that night by a stronger tie than ever.

Yet, had I known what was to come, I would sooner have rushed from that house than allow my friend Smith to tell me his secret.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

HOW HAWKESBURY PUT IN AN APPEARANCE AT HAWK STREET.

When I woke in the morning and called to mind Jack's confidence of the night before, I could hardly believe I had not dreamt it.

I had always guessed, and I dare say the reader has guessed too, that there was some mystery attached to my friend's home. But I had never thought of this. No wonder now, when other boys had tormented him and called him "gaol-bird," he had flared up with unwonted fire. No wonder he had always shrunk from any reference to that unhappy home. But why had he told me all about it now? I could almost guess the reason. For the last month or two he had been back at the nearest approach to a home that he possessed, at his old nurse's cottage at Packworth, with her and his sister. And now, leaving them, and coming back once more to work in London, a home-sickness had seized him, and an irresistible craving for sympathy had prompted him to tell me his secret.

"And it shall be safe with me," I said to myself.

We

Indeed, I almost suspected he repented already of what he had done, for his manner was more reserved and shy than I had ever known it. He seemed to be in a constant fright lest I should return to the subject, while his almost deferential manner to me was quite distressing.

However, we had our work to occupy our minds during most of the day.

"Slap bang, here we are again!" cried Doubleday, as we entered the office together that morning. "What cheer, Bulls'-eye? Awfully sorry we haven't got the decorations up, but we're out of flags at present.

We're going to illuminate this evening, though, in your honour--when we light the gas."

"Awfully glad you're back," said Crow. "The governors have been in an awful way without you to advise them. We've positively done nothing since you went, have we, Wallop?"

"No--except read his life in the Newgate Calendar," said Wallop, who had not forgotten his knock down on the day Jack left.

All this Jack, like a sensible man, took quietly, though I could see, or fancied I saw, he winced at the last reference.

He quietly took his old place, and proceeded to resume his work just as if he had never been absent, wholly regardless of the witticisms of his comrades.

"We've drunk his health now and then in his absence, haven't we, Batch, old man?" said Doubleday again, addressing me.

I did not at all like to be thus drawn into the conversation, but I was forced to answer. "Yes, now and then."

"Let's see, what was the last sentiment--the other night up at Daly's, you know; what was it, Crow?"

"Oh, Doubleday!" cried I, suddenly, in terror at the turn the talk was taking, "would you look at this invoice, please? Only twelve cases are entered, and I'm certain thirteen were s.h.i.+pped."

"Eh, what?" exclaimed Doubleday, who in business matters was always prompt and serious; "only twelve entered? how's that? Why, you young idiot!" said he, taking up the paper; "can't you read what's straight in front of your nose? `A set of samples, not invoiced, in case Number 13.'"

"So it is, to be sure," exclaimed I, who, of course, knew it all along, and had only raised the alarm in order to interrupt Doubleday's awkward talk. "Thanks."

This expedient of mine, disingenuous as it was, was successful. Before Doubleday could get back to his desk and take up the thread of his conversation where he left it, Mr Merrett entered the office. He walked straight up to Jack's desk, and said, heartily, "Well, Smith, my man, we're glad to see you back. Are you quite well again?"

"Quite well, thank you, sir," said Smith, rising to his feet, and flus.h.i.+ng with pleasure at this unexpected attention from the head of the firm.

I felt quite as proud as he did, and still more so when presently Mr Barnacle arrived, and after first looking over his letters and glancing at his _Times_, touched the bell and said he wished to speak to Smith.

"They're going to make a partner of you," said Doubleday, mockingly, as he delivered the message. "Never mind; you won't forget your old servants, I know."

"Talking of partners," said Harris, of the Imports, over the screen, when Jack had gone in obedience to the summons, "we're to have the new chap here next week."

"What's his name?" asked Doubleday.

"Don't know. He's a nephew, I believe, of old Merrett's. The old boy told me the other day he was to come into my department to learn the business. He says I'm to teach him all I know, as he wants him to get on."

"That's pleasant. I suppose he's to be shoved over our heads, and tell us all what to do."

"Never fear," said Harris; "I sha'n't teach him too much. But the governor says he's a `youth of good principles and fair attainments,'

and thinks I shall like him."

Crow whistled.

"`Good principles and fair attainments!' That's a good un. I guess he's come to the wrong shop with those goods. n.o.body deals in them here that _I_ know of."

"Speak for yourself," retorted Doubleday, sententiously. "No one suspected you of going in for either, but Batchelor and I flatter ourselves we _are_ a little in that line."

"Well, if you are," said Wallop, breaking in, "all I can say is, young Batchelor had better show his principle by stepping round to Shoddy's and paying his bill there, or he may `attain' to something he doesn't expect."

"What do you mean?" I said. "I've only had the things a fortnight, and he said I needn't pay for them for a month."

"No doubt he did," said Wallop, not observing that Jack had by this time returned from the partners' room, and was seated once more at his desk.

"No doubt he'd have let you go on tick for a twelve month, but when he finds you owe all round to the butcher and baker and candlestick maker, no wonder he gets a bit shy. Why, only yesterday--"

"Will you mind your own business?" I exclaimed, desperately, not knowing how to turn the talk.