CHAPTER I.

TOM'S HOME.

"A LETTER from Uncle George," and the speaker, a boy about fourteen, ran up the garden path, shouting the news as he came.

A brother and sister met him at the door of the cottage, each eager to see the letter, but he held it high above their heads, and as he was taller than either of them, it was quite out of their reach.

"How do you know it is from Uncle George?" asked his sister.

"How do I know, Polly? Why I've been down to the forge, and the postman gave this to father as he went back to work this afternoon."

Tom's father was the village blacksmith, a steady, hard-working man, who always had as much business as he could get through for the neighbouring farmers, but was ambitious for his eldest son Tom to be something better than a blacksmith.

So he had written to his brother in London, telling him what a fine scholar Tom was, and how they had sent him to the grammar school in the neighbouring town, in the hope that he might be able to get some employment in London, as he was altogether too clever for a mere village blacksmith.

His brother's first reply to this had not been encouraging, but a second letter had been sent at his wife's earnest request, and this was the reply to it.

Tom knew all about what it contained, but he would not tell the news until his mother had seen the letter, and he ran with it to find her. She was busy washing, but she took her hands out of the soapsuds and wiped them carefully when she heard about the letter, for she was most anxious for Tom to go to London and get a place in an office, where he might by-and-by rise to be a clerk, as his uncle had done.

Tom stood and rubbed his hands as his mother read the letter, for he knew she would feel pleased at the news it contained.

"What do you think of it, mother?" he asked at last, for he could not wait until she had finished reading it.

"Why you ought to be very much obliged to Uncle George for the trouble he has taken for you. Dick there, will never get such a chance, I am afraid."

Dick had followed Tom to the wash-house, and now looked eagerly from his brother to the letter in his mother's hand; but he did not ask the question that was on his lips.

Polly, however, was always quicker than Dick, and she said, "Is Tom really going to London, mother?"

"Of course I am; didn't I tell you so last week?"

"But you didn't know it last week," retorted his sister; "the letter has only just come, so how could you know it last week?"

"Hold your tongue, and let me think for a minute how I am going to manage," said her mother. "Uncle George says he wants you to go next week, but I am not sure that I can get your things ready, Tom," she said, in a tone of perplexity.

"Oh, mother, you must," replied the boy. "I don't want much; boys don't want a lot of new frocks, like girls."

"But they wear out their shirts too fast," put in Polly.

"Yes, you must sit down to your sewing at once, Polly, and finish that shirt you are making for Tom. And I shall have to clear up my washing as quick as I can and come and see after his other things, for there is no time to spare if he is to go away next week; and I suppose he must if this place Uncle George has got for him is vacant."

"Oh, yes, mother, I must go, of course," said Tom imperatively.

"I shall be obliged to have a lot of new things, I expect," he said confidentially to his sister, as he went back to the comfortable kitchen, where she had begun to set the tea things in readiness for her father's return.

"Yes, I suppose you will have heaps of new things; but father don't seem to think Dick ever wants anything," said Polly in a resentful tone.

Dick was her favourite brother, and she was always ready to take up the cudgels in his defence, for he was a quiet, silent boy, and people were apt to think he was stupid, as he was so much slower in his methods than his brother. But Polly knew Dick better than anybody else, and she would sometimes say when she was angry at her favourite being passed over for his more brilliant brother, "Dick is worth a dozen of Tom, and you'll all find it out some day."

Now she felt annoyed about this project of sending Tom to London; she knew exactly how it would be. The money that had been put aside to buy a new great-coat for Dick this winter would all be spent on Tom, and poor Dick would have to go without or have Tom's mended up to serve him for best, though it was so torn and shabby that its owner had cast it aside as beneath his notice now; for since he had been to the grammar school in the town, he had taken up notions about his dress that had not been thought of before.

When the blacksmith came home from work his wife met him with a pleasant smile, but her first words convinced Polly that Dick would not get his new coat, for her mother said, "It is lucky we put something away for the children's new clothes."

"It was to buy Dick a new great-coat," said Polly; "you said he should have it when Tom had his new suit a little while ago."

"Let Dick speak for himself, Polly," said her father, smiling at her evident indignation.

"But you know he never does speak up for himself, father," said the girl; "and I think it's too bad to take all his money to spend on Tom, just because he is going to London. Why should he have the best of everything and Dick go without?"

"Be quiet, Polly, and let Dick speak for himself," said her mother.

But she would have been very much surprised if the boy did speak up for himself, for this was not at all in his way, and it would have vexed her, too, just now, for she had made up her mind that all the money laid aside would have to be spent upon Tom before he went to London.

She had already turned over in her mind what things he must have, and she said to her husband, "We must go and get him some new trousers and boots to-morrow, and I should like him to have a new coat, too, if you can spare the money."

"He can do without the coat for the present," replied Flowers, as he sat down to the table and helped himself to bread and butter.

Tom frowned and looked at his mother, and then down at the jacket he was wearing. "This will do for Dick when I have done with it," he said, "I shan't want to take this with me."

"Why not?" asked his father. "That will do for you to wear at first, till we see how you are likely to get on, and then—"

"Perhaps you won't like it, and will want to come home again," put in Polly mischievously.

"That's a girl's notion," said Tom scornfully. "Of course you would cry for your mother before a week was over, but boys are different."

"What do you know about it? You have never been away from home in your life, so how can you tell?" retorted his sister.

"Now, don't begin quarrelling, Polly," said her father. "Tom won't be at home much longer, so try and be civil to each other while you are together. I think you had better go with me to the tailor's in the morning, my boy, for I daresay your mother has enough to do to get your shirts and such things ready, and I shall be able to spare an hour or two to-morrow. When the tea things are cleared away, you had better sit down and write a letter to your uncle, and I will put a note in for myself; but you must thank him for taking all this trouble for you, and tell him you will be at Paddington Station next Wednesday evening as he wishes."

So when Polly had put the tea things away, Tom brought out pen and ink to write to his uncle, while his mother sat down to finish the shirt she had been making for him.

It was quite an event, not only to the family, but to the whole village, for Tom and all the family were born in the place, and his father and mother only came from the next village when they were married. And so to hear that Tom was going to London to live with his Uncle George, and settle down there, caused quite a stir among the neighbours, and every boy in the place envied him his good luck, and wished they had his chances of getting on in the world.

On all sides the blacksmith and his wife were congratulated on Tom's prospects, for he was going to live with his uncle who had no children of his own, and therefore could well afford to look after his nephew.

The rest of the week was busy enough, not only for Polly and her mother, but Dick was pressed into the service too, for none could do enough for the boy who was so soon going away to the world of London.

Dick did not mind having to wear Tom's old coat, instead of having a new one, as by this means his brother could have an entire new suit for best, and only Polly grudged everything of the best being given up to Tom, but she did not say much about it after the first evening was over.

So Tom went to London provided with everything that loving hands could think of for his comfort, and the village was proud of the tall, handsome boy who went away in the carrier's cart early in the morning, that he might be in good time for the train that left the town about ten o'clock.

The situation which had been secured for Tom was in a City warehouse, where there was a number of lads about his own age, or a year or two older. Here he had to write invoices, direct envelopes, run errands occasionally, and make himself generally useful, both in the warehouse and office.

He was to live at his uncle's house, but he felt a little disappointed in his aunt, for she was not a bit like his mother, and seemed to think it was a great bother to have a boy about the place.

His uncle took him to the warehouse the morning after his arrival, and Tom found he would have to take his dinner, for it was quite two miles from where his uncle lived to the City. The noise and confusion of so many people passing and re-passing almost bewildered him at first, and then the wagons and omnibuses seemed as though they would never give him a chance to cross the road. But he was not a boy to be easily conquered, and his uncle assured him he would soon get used to it all, and think nothing of it.

He explained which way he was to take when he came home in the afternoon, as they went along, for he would not be going back at the same time, and having made this clear, he took him in to the gentleman at the warehouse, and there left him.

Tom found that there were several other lads about his own age employed about the place, and at dinner time he went out with the rest to eat the meal he had brought with him. They had an hour to do as they pleased, and he was not sorry when one of his companions proposed that they should go for a walk. Tom knew nothing of the neighbourhood, and was glad enough to have someone of his own age who was willing to show him some of the wonders of London. And he at once began to ask the boy about the Tower, and the Bank, and Westminster Abbey, and other places he had read about at home.

"We can see the Bank as we go home," replied his new friend; "but you'll have to wait to see the other places. Do you go to Sunday-school?" he asked.

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "I had enough of Sunday-school at home," he said; "I shan't go if I can help it now I've come to London. I want to see all I can, not to be moped up in a Sunday-school all the time."

"But you ain't moped up all the time," returned the other. "I was going to ask you to come to my Bible-class on Sunday afternoon, and then you could join our social club for the other evenings in the week."

"What? Sunday-school all the week! No, thank you—I've had enough of school, and I shouldn't have thought you London chaps would have thought so much of it as to go week-day and Sunday too. I want to see what London's like when my work is done, not pen myself up—"

"Oh, but we don't pen ourselves up," interrupted his new friend. "We meet at the schoolroom twice a week and play at draughts or chess, and then the other evenings there are classes for writing, and reading, and arithmetic, and—"

"Oh, I've had enough of that too," said Tom, in a rather contemptuous tone. "I want to go about and see things. I could play draughts in the country."

"To be sure you could," chimed in another lad at this point. He had been walking with them, but had not spoken before. "Bob is so gone on Sunday-schools, that he is afraid to have a game for fear his teacher should hear of it; ain't you, now?" he said, appealing to his companion for confirmation of this.

"I don't care about pitch-and-toss, that you and Simmons think so much of," admitted Bob.

"There! I told you so. He won't play at pitch-and-toss because it's a bit lively."

"No, it ain't that. I like lively games as much as you do, but that is too much like betting, and I promised I wouldn't bet or—"

"What is betting, then?" asked Tom.

"Don't you know? Just come up Fleet Street, and you shall see."

"We haven't got time," put in Bob. "We shall catch it if we're late, you know."

"Oh, all right; I know what I'm about, and so does this chap, though he has just come up from the country. You come with me, and if Bob likes to go back, why I can show you the way just as well as he can—you come to Fleet Street with me."

So Tom left his first companion.

And as soon as they were left to themselves, he confided to Tom that he was very anxious to go and find out what horse had won in a race that was to take place that day at Newmarket.

"Don't let it out to Bob, for he is such a muff about his Sunday-school, but I hope to win six shillings over this race," said the other as they hurried up Fleet Street.

They had not gone very far when they were stopped by a crowd that was gathered round a shop window. And as they reached it, his companion said, "Here we are. The news will be out in a minute, I expect," and then he tried to elbow his way to the front, closely followed by Tom, who was afraid of missing his new friend in the midst of this crowded street here in London.

Still he could not understand, if the race was to be run at Newmarket, why they should all stand staring up at this shop as though their lives depended upon what was to be seen.

At last with a muttered grumble, his companion said, "We must go now, and look sharp about it too, or Phillips will be in a wax and fine us for being late. Come on," he added, pushing his way through the crowd which now nearly blocked the footpath.

As soon as he was clear of it, the boy took to his heels and ran and dodged between the people in such a fashion that Tom could scarcely keep him in sight, and nearly got run over trying to dash across the road after him.

As it was they were both beyond the time when they ought to have got back to their work, and were spoken to very sharply for it.

"This is a bad beginning, my man," said one of the older clerks as Tom went panting to his desk. "I thought you told me you had brought your dinner with you."

"Yes, sir, I did, but I went out for a walk afterwards, and, and—" somehow he did not like to say anything about Newmarket Races for fear his new friend should not like it, so he added, "we looked in a shop window too long."

"So I should think," said the man with a smile. "You must be careful not to be late when you go out for a walk at dinner time or you will get into trouble over it."

No more was said and Tom went on with his work, but he made up his mind when he went to Fleet Street again, not to stay so long.

At the close of the day when he was leaving the warehouse, his new friend met him on the steps.

"Have you heard the news?" he said, in an excited tone, but speaking very cautiously.

"What news?" asked Tom, thinking he ought to be as eager as his friend.

"Why Drizzle's won, and I had a lot of money on him."

Tom stared. He had not heard enough of horse-racing to understand all at once what his friend meant, but he did not leave him long in ignorance as to his meaning.

"Jenkins went out in the afternoon, and he told me if he got a chance, he should run and find out who was the winner, for he had put every penny he could scrape up on Featherhead. I told him it was a roarer, for I got my tip from a man I heard talking in the train. He was one of the knowing ones he was, bound to know the correct card, don't you see, so when I heard him say he should back Drizzle for all he could put on her, I made up my mind to do the same. Jenkins says she came in first, so I stand to win six shillings, I reckon—and that only cost me sixpence, my boy."

Tom opened his eyes, and looked at his companion. "Six shillings! What, a whole week's wages to do as you like with?" uttered Tom.

"That's just it, my boy. I put my sixpence pocket-money on Drizzle, and I've got six shillings for it. Isn't that a lot of money for you?" he demanded, rubbing his hands with glee. "Jenkins ain't up in the clouds though over it, I can tell you; he made so sure Featherhead was coming in first, that he borrowed Harry Bowers' allowance, and stood to win more than me. But no, bless you, Featherhead was nowhere, and so his money's gone, and he looks awfully down about it."

"Where are you going? I thought you said you lived my way?" said Tom, suddenly stopping, for he could tell they were not going in the direction his uncle had told him to take when he left him in the morning.

"Why, I'm going to make sure about Drizzle, first thing. Come on, we shan't be long, and then we can walk home together," and the boy slipped his arm in Tom's and drew him in the direction of Fleet Street, which they very soon reached, and then elbowed their way to the spot where they had stood at dinner time, for there was still a crowd round the window, many like Tom's friend, wishing to make sure before they went home whether they had lost or won their money.

"Yes, it's all right," he said at length; "I shall get this money sure enough. I say, you've brought me luck, old fellow, and if you like, I'll lend you sixpence to put on the next race."

"But I don't know anything about horses, except their shoes," said Tom laughing.

"Oh, that don't matter, we'll go partners, if you like. I'll tell you what horse to put your money on," said his companion.

"Thank you, I'm much obliged, but I don't think I'll begin just yet; I haven't got used to London ways, and—"

"Oh, you'll soon know your way about, I know. I can tell. You were not born on a Thursday, I can see."

Tom knew this was intended as a compliment, and laughed. "If I do come from the country, I know what I'm about, I hope. I tell you, country lads are not such fools as people take them to be," added Tom, nodding his head sagaciously.

"Well, you ain't, that's a sure fact. I could see we should be chums as soon as you came in this morning."

He felt on good terms with all the world, since Drizzle had won the race and changed his sixpence into six shillings, but how it would have been if he had lost, he did not say or think. He was too much elated over his luck to think of that just now.

The boys walked the first mile of their journey homeward together, and then their roads separated, but they agreed to meet again in the morning and walk to their work.

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