Part 18 (1/2)
”To Bayswater--to talk to a clergyman who used to befriend us in the old days. What is your news, David? You may as well tell me.”
”Why, it's this. Mr. Watson has just had a long talk with me. He wants me to help him with the accounts, and not to do messages any more. He could get a lad for messages, he says, who hasn't got such a head on his shoulders as I have. I can do bookkeeping pretty well, and he'll give me some more lessons. I am to start next week doing office-work, and he'll give me five s.h.i.+llings a week instead of half a crown. I call that prime; don't you, Alison?”
”To be sure it is,” she answered heartily. She was very fond of David, and the note of exultation in his voice touched her, and penetrated through the deep gloom at her heart.
”Why, this will cheer Grannie,” she continued.
”There's more to tell yet,” continued David, ”for I am to have my meals as well as the five s.h.i.+llings a week; so there'll be half a crown at the very least to put to the family purse, Alison, and I need be no expense, only just to sleep here. I'll bring the five s.h.i.+llings to Grannie every Sat.u.r.day night, and she can spend just what I want for clothes and keep the rest. I guess she'll make it go as far as anybody.”
”This is good news,” continued Alison. ”Of course five s.h.i.+llings is a sight better nor nothing, and if I only got a place we might keep the home together.”
”Why, is there any fear of our losing it?” asked David.
”Dear me, David, can we keep it on nothing at all? There's Grannie not earning sixpence, and there's me not earning sixpence; and how is the rent to be paid, and us all to be kept in food and things? It aint to be done--you might have the common sense to know that.”
”To be sure I might,” said David, his brow clouding. ”After all, then, I don't suppose the five s.h.i.+llings is much help.”
”Oh, yes, it will support you whatever happens, and that's a good deal.
Don't fret, Dave; you are a right, good, manly fellow. You will fight your way in the world yet, and Grannie and me we'll be proud of you. I wish I had half the pluck you have; but there, I am so down now that nothing seems to come right. I wish I had had the sense to learn that feather-st.i.tching that you do so beautifully.”
David colored.
”I aint ashamed to say that I know it,” he said. ”I dare say I could teach it to you if you had a mind to learn it.”
But Alison shook her head.
”No; it's too late now,” she said. ”It takes months and months of practice to make a st.i.tch like that to come to look anything like right, and we want the money at once. We have got scarcely any left, and there's the rent due on Monday, and the little girls want new shoes--Kitty's feet were wringing wet when she came in to-day. Oh, yes, I don't see how we are to go on. But Grannie will tell us when she comes back. Oh, and here she is.”
Alison flew to the door and opened it. Mrs. Reed, looking bright and excited, entered.
”Why, where are the little ones?” she said at once. ”Aint they reading their books, like good children?”
”No, Grannie. I'd a headache, and I let them go into the court to play a bit. You don't mind, do you?”
”Not for once, I don't,” said Grannie; ”but, Dave, lad, you'd better fetch 'em in now, for it's getting real late. They may as well go straight off to bed, for I have a deal I want to talk over with you two to-night.”
Alison felt impatient and anxious; she could scarcely wait to hear Grannie's news. The old lady sat down near the fire, uttering a deep sigh of relief as she did so.
”Ally, my dear,” she said, ”I'm as weary as if I were seventy-eight instead of sixty-eight. It's a long walk back from St. Paul's Churchyard, and there was a crowd out, to be sure; but it's a fine starlight night, and I felt as I was walking along, the Lord's in his heaven, and there can never be real bad luck for us, his servants, what trusts in him.”
Alison frowned. She wished Grannie would not quote Scripture so much as she had done lately. It jarred upon her own queer, perverse mood; but as she saw the courageous light in the blue eyes she suppressed an impatient sigh which almost bubbled to her lips. She got tea for Grannie, who drank it in great contentment. David brought the children in. They kissed Grannie, and were hustled off to bed, rather to their own disgust, and then David, Grannie, and Alison sat gravely down, and looked each at the other.
”Where's Harry?” said Grannie suddenly. ”Why aint the boy to home?”
”I expect he's at the Boys' Club,” said David. ”He's very fond of running round there in the evening.”
”There's no harm in that, Grannie,” said Alison. ”Don't fret about Harry. Now tell us your news, do. Did you see Mr. Williams, and can he do anything?”
”I saw Mr. Williams,” said Grannie. ”He remembered me quite well. I told him everything. It seems to me that he has put things straight.
I don't say that things aint sore--no, I don't go to pretend they aint--but somehow they seem straightened out a bit, and I know wot to do.”