I--I will never forget it. Good-bye."
He ran home with the image of the child in his mind--on his brain.
Sarah--plain Sarah--met him at the top of the stairs. He brushed pasther.
"La! but ye does look glum," said Sarah.
Archie locked his door. He did not want to see even Sarah--homelySarah--that night.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
"SOMETHING IN SOAP."
It was a still, sultry night in November. Archie's balcony window waswide open, and if there had been a breath of air anywhere he would havehad the benefit of it. That was one advantage of having a room high upabove the town, and there were several others. For instance, it wasquieter, more retired, and his companions did not often take him bystorm, because they objected to climb so many stairs. Dingy, small, anddismal some might have called it, but Archie always felt at home up inhis semi-attic. It even reminded him of his room in the dear old towerat Burley. Then his morsel of balcony, why that was worth all the moneyhe paid for the room itself; and as for the view from this charming,though non-aristocratic elevation, it was simply unsurpassed,unsurpassable--looking far away over a rich and fertile country to thegrand old hills beyond--a landscape that, like the sea, was still thesame, but ever changing; sometimes smiling and green, sometimes bathedin tints of purple and blue, sometimes grey as a sky o'ercast with rainclouds. Yes, he loved it, and he would take a chair out here on amoonlight evening and sit and think and dream.
But on this particular night sleep, usually so kind to the young man,absolutely refused to visit his pillow. He tried to woo the goddess onhis right side, on his left, on his back; it was all in vain. Finally,he sat bolt upright in his little truckle bed in silent defiance.
"I don't care," he said aloud, "whether I sleep or not. What does itmatter? I've nothing to do to-morrow. Heigho!"
Nothing to do to-morrow! How sad! And he so young too. Were all hisdreams of future fortune to fade and pass away like this--nothing to do?Why he envied the very boys who drove the mill wagons that went lazilyrolling past his place every day. They seemed happy, and so contented;while he--why his very life--had come to be all one continued fever.
"Nothing to do yet, sir?" It was the ordinary salutation of hishard-working mite of a landlady when he came home to his meal in theafternoon. "I knows by the weary way ye walks upstairs, sir, you aren'tsuccessful yet, sir."
"Nothink to do yet, sir?" They were the usual words that the slaveyused when she dragged upstairs of an evening with his tea-things.
"Nothink to do," she would say, as she deposited the tray on the table,and sank _sans ceremonie_ into the easy-chair. "Nothink to do. What a'appy life to lead! Now 'ere's me a draggin' up and down stairs, and acarryin' of coals and a sweepin', and a dustin' and a hanswering of thedoor, till, what wi' the 'eat and the dust and the fleas, my poor littlelife's well-nigh worrited out o' me. Heigho! hif I was honly back againin merrie England, catch me ever goin' to any Australia any more. Butyou looks a horned gent, sir. Nothink to do! My eye and Betty Martin,ye oughter to be 'appy, if you ain't."
Archie got up to-night, enrobed himself in his dressing-gown, and wentand sat on his balcony. This soothed him. The stars were very bright,and seemed very near. He did not care for other companionship thanthese and his own all-too-busy thoughts. There was hardly a sound to beheard, except now and then the hum of a distant railway train increasingto a harsh roar as it crossed the bridge, then becoming subdued againand muffled as it entered woods, or went rolling over a soft and opencountry.
Nothing to do! But he must and would do something. Why should hestarve in a city of plenty? He had arms and hands, if he hadn't a head.Indeed, he had begun of late to believe that his head, which he used tothink so much of, was the least important part of his body. He caughthimself feeling his forearm and his biceps. Why this latter had gotsmaller and beautifully less of late. He had to shut his fist hard tomake it perceptible to touch. This was worse and worse, he thought. Hewould not be able to lift a fifty-six if he wanted to before long, orhave strength enough left to wield a stable broom if he should beobliged to go as gardener to Winslow.
"What next, I wonder?" he said to himself. "First I lose my brains, ifever I had any, and now I have lost my biceps; the worst loss last."
He lit his candle, and took up the newspaper.
"I'll pocket my pride, and take a porter's situation," he murmured."Let us see now. Hullo! what is this? `Apprentice Wanted--the drugtrade--splendid opening to a pushing youngster.' Well, I am a pushingyoungster. `Premium required.' I don't care, I have a bit of moneyleft, and I'll pay it like a man if there is enough. Why the drug tradeis grand. Sydney drug-stores beat Glasgow's all to pieces. Druggistsand drysalters have their carriages and mansions, their town and countryhouses. Hurrah! I'll be something yet!"
He blew out the candle, and jumped into bed. The gentle goddessrequired no further wooing. She took him in her lap, and he went off atonce like a baby.
Rap--rap--rap--rap!
"Hullo! Yes; coming, Sarah; coming."
It was broad daylight; and when he admitted Sarah at last, with thebreakfast-tray, she told him she had been up and down fifty times,trying to make him hear. Sarah was given to a little exaggeration attimes.
"It was all very well for a gent like he," she said, "but there was hera-slavin' and a-toilin', and all the rest of it."
"Well, well, my dear," he cut in, "I'm awfully sorry, I assure you."
Sarah stopped right in the centre of the room, still holding the tray,and looked at him.
"What!" she cried. "Ye ain't a-going to marry me then, young man! Whatare ye my-dearing me for?"
"No, Sarah," replied Archie, laughing; "I'm not going to marry you; butI've hopes of a good situation, and--"
"Is that all?" Sarah dumped down the tray, and tripped away singing.
Archie's interview with the advertiser was of a most satisfactorycharacter. He did not like the street, it was too new and out of theway; but then it would be a beginning.
He did not like his would-be employer, but he dared say he would improveon acquaintance. There was plenty in the shop, though the place wasdingy and dirty, and the windows small. The spiders evidently had finetimes of it here, and did not object to the smell of drugs. He wasreceived by Mr Glorie himself in a little back sanctum off the littleback shop.
The premium for apprenticing Archie was rather more than the young mancould give; but this being explained to the proprietor of thesebeautiful premises, and owner of all the spiders, he graciouslycondescended to take half. Archie's salary--a wretched pittance--was tocommence at once after articles were signed; and Mr Glorie promised togive him a perfect insight into the drug business, and make a man ofhim, and "something else besides," he added, nodding to Archie in amysterious manner.
The possessor of the strange name was a queer-looking man; there did notappear much glory about him. He was very tall, very lanky, and thin,his shoulders sloping downwards like a well-pointed pencil, while hisface was solemn and elongated, like your own, reader, if you look at itin a spoon held lengthways.
The articles were signed, and Archie walked home on feathers apparently.He went upstairs singing. His landlady ran to the door.
"Work at last?"
Archie nodded and smiled.
When Sarah came in with the dinner things she danced across the room,bobbing her queer, old-fashioned face and crying--
"Lawk-a-daisy, diddle-um-doo, Missus says you've got work to do!"
"Yes, Sarah, at long last, and I'm so happy."
"'Appy, indeed!" sang Sarah. "Why, ye won't be the gent no longer!"
Archie certainly had got work to do. For a time his employer kept himin the shop. There was only one other lad, and he went home with thephysic, and what with studying hard to make himself _au fait_ inprescribing and selling seidlitz powders and gum drops, Archie waspretty busy.
So months flew by. Then his long-faced employer took him into the
backpremises, and proceeded to initiate him into the mysteries of thesomething else that was to make a man of him.
"There's a fortune in it," said Mr Glorie, pointing to a bubblinggrease-pot. "Yes, young sir, a vast fortune."
"What is the speciality?" Archie ventured to enquire.
"The speciality, young sir?" replied Mr Glorie, his face relaxing intosomething as near a smile as it would permit of. "The speciality, sir,is soap. A transparent soap. A soap, young sir, that is destined torevolutionise the world of commerce, and bring _my_ star to theascendant after struggling for two long decades with the dark clouds ofadversity."
So
From Squire to Squatter: A Tale of the Old Land and the New Page 19
