Part 17 (2/2)
”Will you walk in, sir?” and Mrs. Andrews showed them into the sitting room.
Mr. Penrose had been somewhat surprised by Mrs. Andrews' manner, although the foreman, in telling him of the boys' conduct, had also stated what he knew about them.
”They are out-of-the-way sort of boys, sir,” he said. ”There was quite a talk about them in the shops in the spring. They lodged with Grimstone, and it seems that after they had been here at work five months Andrews' mother, who had been ill, was coming to them, and they got Grimstone to take a house for them, and it turned out that ever since they had been at work here they had been putting by half their wages to furnish a place for her, so they must have lived on about five s.h.i.+llings a week each and got clothes for themselves out of it.
Now, sir, boys as would do that aint ordinary boys, and there was quite a talk among the men about it. I hear from Grimstone that Mrs.
Andrews is a superior sort of person, he says quite a lady. She does work, I believe, for some London shop.”
Mr. Penrose, therefore, was prepared to find the boys in a more comfortable abode than usual, and their mother what the foreman called a superior sort of woman; but he perceived at once by her address that Grimstone's estimate had been a correct one, and that she was indeed a lady. The prettiness of the little sitting room, with its comfortable furniture, its snowy curtains and pretty belongings, heightened this feeling.
”I have come to see you, boys,” he said, ”and to tell you how indebted I feel to you for your exertions on Sat.u.r.day. There is no doubt that had it not been for you the place would have been entirely burned. It was fully insured, but it would have been a serious matter for me, as I should have lost four or five months' work, and it would have been still more serious for the men to have been thrown out of employment at this time of the year, so we all feel very much indebted to you. I hope you are not much burned.”
”Oh, no, sir! our hands are burned a bit, but they will be all right in a few days. Bill and I are very glad, sir, that we happened to be pa.s.sing, and were able to give the alarm and do something to stop the flames till the others came up; but we don't feel that it was anything out of the way. It was just a piece of fun and excitement to us.”
”They didn't say anything about it, Mr. Penrose, when they came home, and it was only when one of the men came in next day to ask after them that I heard that they had really been of use.”
”It is all very well to say so, lads,” Mr. Penrose replied; ”but there is no doubt you showed a great deal of courage, as well as presence of mind, and you may be sure that I shall not forget it. And now, Mrs.
Andrews,” he said, turning round to her, ”I feel rather in a false position. I came round to see the lads, who, when I last saw them, were not in very flouris.h.i.+ng circ.u.mstances, and I was going to make them a present for the service they had done me, and my daughter has brought them a basket with some wine, jelly, and other things such as are good for sick boys. Finding them as I find them, in your care and in such a home, you see I feel a difficulty about it altogether.”
”Thank you, sir,” Mrs. Andrews said, ”for the kindness of your intention; but my boys--for although one is in no way related to me I feel towards him as if he were my own--would not like to take money for doing their duty towards their employer.”
”No, indeed!” George and Bill exclaimed simultaneously.
”As you see, sir, thanks to the work you were good enough to give the boys and to my needle,”--and she glanced towards the articles on the table,--”we are very comfortable; but I am sure the boys will be very glad to accept the things which your daughter has been so kind as to bring down for them, and will feel very much obliged for her thoughtfulness.”
”That is right,” Mr. Penrose said, relieved. ”Nelly, you may as well leave the basket as it is. I am sure you don't want to carry it back again?”
”No, papa,” Nelly said; and indeed even the empty basket would have been more than the child could well have carried. It had come on the top of the carriage to the railway-station, and a porter had accompanied Mr. Penrose with it to Laburnum Villas.
”You would have hardly known your young friend. Would you, Nelly?”
”I don't think I should,” she said, shaking her head. ”He looks dreadfully burned, and his hair is all funny and frizzled.”
”It will soon grow again,” George said, smiling. ”The doctor says our faces will be all right when the skin is peeled off. Thank you very much, Miss Penrose, for all the nice things. It was a fortunate day indeed for us when I caught that boy stealing your locket.”
”And it was a fortunate day for us too,” Mr. Penrose responded. ”Now, Mrs. Andrews, we will say good-by. You will not mind my calling again to see how the boys are getting on?”
”It will be very kind of you, sir, and we shall be glad to see you,”
Mrs. Andrews replied; ”but I hope in a few days they will both be out of the doctor's hands.”
”I can't shake hands with you,” Mr. Penrose said, patting the boys on the shoulder, ”but I hope next time I see you to be able to do so.
Good-morning, Mrs. Andrews.”
CHAPTER VII.
<script>