CHAPTER II.

BEGUILED.

TOM met his new friend the next morning, who was still in very high spirits over his good fortune, and offered to show Tom where to go to spend an evening merrily. But this offer Tom declined, for he had promised his mother before leaving home that he would take care to go back to his aunt as soon as his work was over, and he meant to keep his word—at least, until he knew more about London than he did at present.

He took care not to go to Fleet Street again at dinner time for fear he should be late, for his uncle had warned him about this when he heard where he had been. But Randall did not press him to go again, they had their dinner and strolled out for a little while, Randall showing him St. Paul's Cathedral, and pointing out the General Post Office, and several other large buildings.

In this way the lads grew more intimate, and when they went home together in the evening, Randall showed him the six shillings he had won on Drizzle. Of course, Tom wished he could win some money as easily, and Randall promised to tell him when he heard of a good thing.

"Mind you, I don't do as some fellows do," went on the boy, "put money on every race they hear of, I just wait till I can find out about a horse, and then I plank my money down upon it."

But Tom began to get tired of the horsey talk and Randall's wisdom before they parted, for he would have liked to talk about Dick and his home, if he could only have found some one to listen to his story.

His aunt's house seemed very lonely to him; not at all like the pleasant home he had been used to all his life. His uncle did not get home until late in the evening, and his aunt, who was not used to boys, sat and watched him for fear he should scrape his feet on the chair-rails, or push it when he moved instead of lifting it, and so wear out the carpet, for they had tea in the little back parlour, and she was very careful of the furniture, lest it should be spoiled.

"Hadn't you better go to bed now?" she would say to Tom about eight o'clock.

And Tom went; but he did not like it much, though it was dull to sit and watch his aunt at her sewing, or tease the cat, which seemed all the amusement he could find. He was not very fond of reading, and if he had been, there were no books about here for him to read, so he went to bed at eight o'clock the first week of his stay.

But when he had been there a fortnight, and had learned his way about the neighbouring streets and roads, he thought he might as well go out for a walk after tea, as sit and look at his aunt, and his proposal to do this seemed rather to please her.

"Yes, you can go out for an hour, if you like, only don't lose yourself, and mind you get home before your uncle comes in."

"All right," said Tom, smiling at the idea of losing himself now, for he had taken careful note of the different turnings, and as his uncle rarely got home before ten o'clock, there would be plenty of time for him to go for a long walk.

The street where his aunt lived opened into a broad, busy road with large, well-lighted shops, and of course Tom made his way there at once, sticking his hands in his pockets, for the evenings were chilly. When he got there he was at a loss which way to turn, for although he knew the road leading to the City, he did not want to go that way now, but to vary his walk if he could. So he stood at the corner looking up and down the street, undecided which way to take, when a lad about his own age came sauntering towards him.

"Fine night," he remarked, as he halted beside Tom. "Are you out for a stroll?"

"Yes, I came out for a walk, but I hardly know which way to go," replied Tom, looking at the stranger to see if he had ever spoken to him before.

He did not recognise him, but he looked a respectable lad, and so, when he proposed they should go along the road together, Tom cheerfully assented, for any company was better than none, he thought.

"Beastly place London is," said his new friend when they had exchanged a few words, in which he detected that Tom had recently come from the country.

"Don't you like it?" asked Tom, in some surprise, for this long row of lighted shops, and the pleasant bustle of the street was almost like fairyland to him.

His new friend made a wry face, but did not reply immediately to his question.

"Things are pretty dull here sometimes, and there is no friendliness among people like there is in the country. You look at your neighbour as though he was a wild beast bent upon eating you up, and so you are afraid to speak to him."

Tom laughed. "I don't think I am much afraid of strangers," he said, "or I should not be walking with you."

"Ah! That just shows you have not been here long enough to get spoiled. I knew at once by the friendly look in your face that you had not been here long. Come up to get a place in some office, I suppose?" said his new friend, looking at him curiously.

"I have got a place," replied Tom. "My uncle has lived in London for years and years, and he got me a place, and I live with him."

His companion gave a prolonged whistle. "I wonder he hadn't told you never to talk to strangers when you came out for a walk," he said.

"He doesn't know I am out," replied Tom. "I'm not a baby, either, that is likely to lose its way, so aunt said I might come out for an hour if I liked."

"Sensible old lady, I am much obliged to her, for I wanted a companion for a walk, and so I am glad to meet you. Two country chaps like us ought to be friends, you know."

"Yes, of course," said Tom, glad to meet with a friend from the country. "What part of the country do you come from?" he asked the next minute.

"Well, I was at Newmarket last," said his new friend.

"Newmarket," repeated Tom; "why, that is where they have horse-racing, isn't it?"

"What do you know about horse-racing?" said the other quickly. "I thought you said you had only been in London a fortnight."

"Isn't that long enough to learn about it?" said Tom, who was determined not to let this lad think he was altogether ignorant of London life and ways. "Perhaps you think I don't know that Drizzle won the race there about a fortnight ago," he added with a knowing nod, and thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets.

His companion was certainly surprised, and looked it as he said, "Well, you haven't been long learning the ropes, certainly. What did you put on Drizzle?" he asked.

"Nothing; but a friend of mine turned in a nice little bit." He would not mention the amount, for he had an idea that this new friend would not regard six shillings as an overwhelming fortune.

"Well, look here, don't you venture to put money on a horse like Drizzle," said his companion oracularly. "If some of the others had not been pulled, she would have come in last instead of first, and then where would your money have been?" he asked in a tone of triumph, which seemed to imply that he knew more about such matters than Tom could tell him.

Tom looked puzzled, but at last he said, "Of course, if you have lived at Newmarket, you know all about it."

"I hope I know better than to put money on a horse like Drizzle," said the other in a tone of contempt.

"Where do you work?" asked Tom, thinking he ought to take Randall to see this friend who knew so much about horses.

"Well, I'm not doing any regular work just now. Can't get anything to suit me exactly. But then I need not be in a hurry for a time, you see."

"Then you don't go to the City every day?" said Tom.

"No, not every day. I go sometimes, of course, and I could meet you there now and then, if you liked."

Tom supposed his new friend was staying with relatives, and rather envied him. They walked about together for an hour or two, and then Tom said he must go home. His companion pressed him to stay longer, but Tom said he must go, although he was rather loth to part with such an entertaining companion.

The talk about horses had branched off into talk about cards, and Tom's amazement was great when he found that his new friend could tell him all about the games that were generally played, and when he assured him that money was often made on cards, especially if anybody knew the games well.

He went home at last thoroughly impressed with his new friend's wisdom, and thinking how lucky he was to have met him. He had promised to meet him again the following evening, and he went home in high spirits, thinking what he should have to tell Randall and Bob when he met them in the morning. It was nearly nine o'clock when he got home, but his aunt did not say anything about the time, only told him to get a piece of bread out of the cupboard, and eat it in the kitchen, if he wanted any supper.

Tom took the bread, for he was hungry, but he did not care much about it, for there was always plenty of home-made jam or honey from their own hives at home, and to eat dry bread for any meal had been looked upon as a punishment, and, besides, he thought his aunt might have given a bit of cheese with the bread.

But he did not say anything about it, he ate it and went to bed to dream of horses and his new friend.

He told Randall about Drizzle being a roarer, and how nearly he had lost his money; but he did not seem as much impressed as Tom expected to see him.

"You always have to take risks, of course," he said loftily; "and I should mind what I was about with a fellow you know nothing of."

Tom laughed, for Randall's words and manner so exactly bore out what his new friend said about London boys, that he felt rather glad he was above such narrow prejudices and suspicions. "I wasn't born on a Thursday," he said, quoting his own proverb.

"Thursday or Friday, you'd better look out," said Randall.

"You don't like your favourite horse being called a roarer."

"Oh, bother the horse; Drizzle can take care of himself, if you can," said the other. He felt rather nettled that Tom should presume to give him advice upon this matter, and for the next day or two they were rather cool to each other.

But Tom continued to meet his new friend after tea, and they generally went for a long walk together. The time of Tom's return home getting a few minutes later each night, until at last his uncle got home first, and the clock had struck ten before he knocked at the door.

Of course his uncle wanted to know where he had been, and who he had spent the evening with, but to his own surprise, Tom could tell very little concerning his companion. He had been told to call him Jack, but he did not know where he lived; and so far as he knew he did not do any work, so that his uncle's questions revealed to him the fact that while he had given his new friend every scrap of information about himself and his home, and his employers, he really knew nothing of him beyond the fact that his name was Jack, that he was a pleasant spoken lad, and seemed to have plenty of money to spend, for he generally bought cakes for Tom and himself during the evening.

All this was told to Mr. Flowers when he pressed Tom with questions, but as there seemed to be no occasion for forbidding the acquaintance, his uncle only warned him to be careful and not to stay out after nine o'clock at night.

Perhaps if he had enquired a little further, and asked what they found to talk about, he might not have been so easy about the matter. For this new friend of Tom's had succeeded in making him believe that there was more than one short but to making money, if he could only discover it; as though to make money and not to give honest work and service was the whole end for which a man or boy had to work.

Tom had often heard his father speak of putting good work into whatever job he did, but he did not see that there was any connection between putting a horse-shoe on safely and securely, and doing such work as he had to do at the warehouse. And the talk with his friend Jack had given him the impression that in London to be sharp and look out for "Number One" was a good deal better than plodding work.

With this had come a desire for more spending money. His wages were but six shillings a week, which he took home to his aunt every Friday, and from which she gave him threepence for himself, but out of this he had to buy his own boot and shoelaces.

Threepence a week had seemed a large sum to him at first, but since he had become acquainted with Jack, who spent more than that every evening, it had seemed very small, especially as he sometimes had to spend half of it in replacing broken boot-laces.

As it was, he could very seldom produce a penny for the nightly consumption of cakes, and as Jack was too good-natured to eat and see him go without, he found money for both, remarking, when Tom protested against this arrangement, that he should stand treat by-and-by when he was in luck, as he would certainly be before long.

In Tom's first letters home, when he knew that he was to have threepence a week, he had written to tell Dick that he meant to send him something from London at Christmas. But now he had been here three months and Christmas was drawing near, Tom wanted money for himself, and there seemed little chance of Dick getting his promised present.

The luck promised by Jack had not come to him, although he heard every now and then of one and another among his companions at the office doubling or trebling their week's pocket-money in a few minutes. Sometimes it was at card-playing, sometimes on a game of pitch-and-toss, for it seemed that when they could not gamble on horse-racing, the lads found out another way of betting.

But Tom never seemed to have money enough to risk in this way, and he was complaining of this to his bosom friend Jack one day, when he offered to lend him five shillings for a month, if he liked to accept it.

"You have brought me luck, if you haven't had it yourself," he said laughing, "so it's only fair you should share in it."

But Tom would not borrow if he could help it, he shook his head rather sadly, though, as he thought of a letter that had just come from his sister Polly, suggesting that he should send Dick a pair of warm gloves, as he had very bad chilblains on his hands this winter.

"Bother his chilblains," said Tom, half aloud, as he read the letter one morning at breakfast time.

"What is that, Tom?" asked his uncle looking across the table.

"Dick has got bad chilblains this winter, and Polly wants me to send him a pair of warm gloves."

"Aye, to be sure, for the Christmas present you were talking about a little while ago, when you first came up; couldn't be anything better, they won't cost much; can easily be sent by parcels post, and will be very useful, too. I tell you what, my boy, I will get them for you. I have got a friend in the trade who can get me a pair at first hand, so that they will not cost you so much, for I know you have not much money to spare for them."

"No, uncle," said Tom, looking down at his bread and butter, and not caring to say more, for, in truth, he did not know where the money was to come from to buy these gloves, although he had talked a good deal about the Christmas presents he was going to send home when he first came to London.

Now, as he thought over the matter walking to the City, he wondered how he was to get the money to pay for these gloves, and while he was thinking of it, his uncle said:

"I think I can get you a first-rate pair of lined leather gloves for Dick for about eighteenpence something that will make them open their eyes at home when they see them, and give Master Dick something to remember as his first pair of gloves. Of course you would like him to have something good coming from London?"

"Yes, uncle," answered Tom, not knowing what else to say, but wondering silently where he was to get eighteenpence.

His uncle, however, did not seem to notice his silence. He took all the talking upon himself that morning, for he was in good spirits, and glad to have a listener. It was not often that they went to the City together now, for Tom generally met Randall and Bob, and walked with them, but his uncle had to go earlier that day, and that was how it was they came to be walking together.

They separated, however, before the warehouse was reached, and Randall overtook him before he got in.

"I say, what made you come on without me?" he asked. "I wanted to see you this morning. Don't you know I said I should want that twopence I lent you last week?"

"All right, you shall have it," said Tom, in an irritable tone, for he felt as anxious and worried over his small debts and liabilities as a millionaire would over the threatened loss of all he possessed.

He reckoned up what he owed to one and the other now, for Randall was not his only creditor, though his debts were mainly debts of honour, and represented the wild efforts he had made to realise something of the dazzling prospect held before him by his new friend, of how money could be made by a sharp lad when he once knew the ropes.

"The ropes" he had been trying, by which he hoped to make a little money to spend when he went out in the evening, was the game of pitch-and-toss. It was usually played at dinner time among a number of the lads employed at the different warehouses round.

They managed to meet in a quiet corner out of sight of the police or the older men, and there one would throw up a halfpenny or penny, and the rest bet eagerly on which side came uppermost.

Tom had seen Bob and another lad win sixpence or eightpence in the course of a dinner hour, and at last he thought he would try his luck. But in spite of all Jack professed to know about a lucky hand, he invariably lost all he risked, and then he had ventured upon the desperate plan of borrowing a penny or two from whoever would lend, for once the gambling spirit had seized hold of him he could not shake it off.

He had threepence in his pocket to-day, and he was so impatient for the dinner hour to come round, that he could not give the proper attention to the work in hand, and made several mistakes, which brought down upon him the anger of the foreman, who even threatened to have him dismissed if he was not more careful.

When at last the dinner hour arrived and the lads were free to meet in their favourite haunt, Tom pressed forward to join in the game—not for the sake of the fun and excitement, that period was over for him just now, and the deadly thirst for gain had taken its place.

He staked only a penny first and won twopence. This elated him, and he staked the twopence and won fourpence, and by the time the bell rang for them to go back to work he had tenpence in his pocket, besides having paid Randall the twopence he owed him.

It was with supreme satisfaction that he went back to his work rattling the halfpence he had won. He could afford to think of Dick's gloves now with something like pleasure, for it must be that his luck had turned at last, as Jack had always said it would. And a day or two of winning steadily would not only give him all he wanted for the gloves, but quite set him up in pocket-money for the Christmas holiday.

So when he met his uncle at breakfast the next morning he asked if he had enquired about Dick's gloves, and asked him how much they would be. "Just about what I thought, my boy. Brown tells me he can get me a tidy pair for eighteenpence."

"But Tom won't have saved eighteenpence by Christmas," said his aunt, who happened to be present, and who had no notion of her husband buying these out of his own pocket. "Tom can't save a penny," she added, in a reproachful tone.

For answer Tom took the halfpence out of his pocket that he had won the day before, and laid them down upon the table before his aunt, to the great amusement of his uncle.

"Well done, my lad," he said, with a mischievous glance at his wife.

"Where did you get all that?" she said, rather tartly. "You told me the other day it cost you such a lot for boot-laces, you never saved more than a penny a week."

Tom coloured furiously, and wished he had not grumbled over the bad laces; but he knew his aunt's eyes were upon him, and that he was expected to give some reason for the possession of all this money, and he was not long finding one. He had once been sent to fetch a dinner from the eating-house close by for one of the clerks who did not wish to go out, and for this service he had been paid twopence, and this was brought forward now as though it was a matter of frequent occurrence, and that twopences were often earned in this way.

"Then you ought to have said so before," retorted his aunt, in a reproachful tone, "for if you can get halfpence so easily, I don't see why I should give you threepence a week for nothing."

"Oh, nonsense, Maria," said her husband, "it isn't often the boy can earn so much extra. Mind you take care of it," he added, as he rose from the breakfast table, and there the matter ended for the present.

[Illustration]