Part 11 (1/2)

Jeffreys p.r.i.c.ked up his ears and asked a good many questions about the school, which the youthful pair readily and gaily replied to, and then suggested that if Trimble was such a cad the boys had better not be late.

”Have some parliament cake?” said Freddy, opening his satchel and producing a large square of crisp gingerbread.

Jeffreys had not the heart to refuse a little piece of this delicacy, and enjoyed it more than the most sumptuous meal in an hotel. Teddy also insisted on his taking a bite out of his apple.

”Good-bye,” said the little fellow, putting up his face in the most natural manner for a kiss. Jeffreys felt quite staggered by this unexpected attention, but recovered his presence of mind enough to do what was expected of him. Freddy, on the other hand, looked rather alarmed at his young brother's audacity, and contented himself with holding out his hand.

”Good-bye, little chap,” said Jeffreys, feeling a queer lump in his throat and not exactly knowing which way to look.

Next moment the two little brothers were trotting down the road hand-in- hand as gay as young larks. Jeffreys thought no more about the navvies, or the delights of a labourer's life. A new hope was in him, and he strolled slowly back into York wondering to himself if angels ever come to men in the shape of little schoolboys.

It was still early when he reached the city. So he spent sixpence of his little store on a bath in the swimming baths, and another sixpence on some breakfast. Then, refreshed in body and mind, he called at the post-office. There was nothing for him there. Though he hardly expected any letter yet, his heart sunk as he thought what news might possibly be on its way to him at that moment. The image of Forrester as he lay on the football field haunted him constantly, and he would have given all the world even then to know that he was alive. Hope, however, came to his rescue, and helped him for a time to shake off the weight of his heart, and address himself boldly to the enterprise he had in hand.

That enterprise the acute reader has easily guessed. He would offer his services to the worthy Mrs Trimble, _vice_ Mr Fison, resigned. He never imagined his heart could beat as quickly as it did when after a long search he read the words--”Galloway House. Select School for Little Boys,” inscribed on a board in the front garden of a small, old- fas.h.i.+oned house in Ebor Road.

The sound of children's voices in the yard at the side apprised him that he had called at a fortunate time. Mrs Trimble during the play-hour would in all probability be disengaged.

Mrs Trimble was disengaged, and opened the door herself. Jeffreys beheld a stoutish harmless-looking woman, with a face by no means forbidding, even if it was decidedly unintellectual.

”Well, young man,” said she. She had been eating, and, I regret to say, had not finished doing so before she began to speak.

”Can I see Mrs Trimble, please?” asked Jeffreys, raising his hat. The lady, finding her visitor was a gentleman, hastily wiped her mouth and answered rather lest brusquely.

”I am the lady,” said she.

”Excuse me,” said Jeffreys, ”I called to ask if you were in want of an a.s.sistant teacher. I heard that you were.”

”How did you hear that, I wonder? I suppose he's a friend of that Fison. Yes, young man, I am in want of an a.s.sistant.”

”I should do my best to please you, if you would let me come,” said Jeffreys. And then, anxious to avoid the painful subject of his character, he added, ”I have not taught in a school before, and I have no friends here, so I can't give you any testimonials. But I am well up in cla.s.sics and pretty good in mathematics, and would work hard, ma'am, if you would try me.”

”Are you a steady young man? Do you drink?”

”I never touch anything but water; and I am quite steady.”

”What wages do you expect?”

”I leave that to you. I will work for nothing for a month till you see if I suit you.”

Mrs Trimble liked this. It looked like a genuine offer.

”Are you good-tempered and kind to children?” she asked.

”I am very fond of little boys, and I always try to keep my temper.”

His heart sank at the prospect of other questions of this kind. But Mrs Trimble was not of a curious disposition. She knew when she liked a young man and when she didn't, and she valued her own judgment as much as anybody else's testimonials.

”You mustn't expect grand living here,” she said.

”I was never used to anything but simple living,” said he.