Chapter VI: Phil Gets a Start

"JASPER, are the boys here?" and Forbes peered into the shed where they were so often to be found.

"No; Phil has got a day's work taking round circulars, and I expect Rob's with him. Anyhow, I haven't seen either of them this morning."

"Well, their father has been knocked down by a runaway horse, and badly hurt, I'm afraid; anyhow, his leg is broken in two places. We've taken him to the Infirmary, and I've been round to their room, but it's locked up, and the folk downstairs don't know where Mrs. Mellor has gone."

"Broken his leg, eh? That's a long job."

"Yes, three months at least, the doctor said."

"Well, Forbes, 'pon my word I don't know that it's a bad thing; he'll have to keep from the drink for certain, and then I should think his wife and boys would have a better chance without him, for what they pick up he spends."

Forbes shrugged his shoulders. "Humph! I don't know but what you're right; but there, I think Phil's fond of his father in a way. Rob's afraid of him, and no wonder, poor little chap. It seems to me you're his father, Jasper; anyhow, he spends most of his time here, according to his own accounts."

"Yes, he's always welcome to what I have, though that isn't much; and I do really look out for their coming in."

"Well, if you see either of them, or the wife, just tell them what's happened, will you? He's all safe up at the Infirmary, and they can go up as soon as they like. I've left word round at their place; but maybe they'll drop in here first."

But ill news travels fast, and as Phil and Rob were together distributing circulars in quite another part of Helmstone, the tidings reached them of their father's accident. One of the Mission Hall folk, who had seen Mellor knocked down, met the boys and told them.

"You'd better be off to see him, I should think; they'll let you in all right."

Phil hesitated. "No," he said; "I've promised to leave these circulars every one to-day, and I can't go until I've done it, or else they would say I wasn't truthful; but I'll be as quick as ever I can, and Rob shall help, and then we'll both go and see father."

And so all the afternoon Stephen Mellor lay on his bed, after his leg had been set and his injuries attended to, hardly able to realize what had happened; surrounded by strangers and suffering, and almost astonished at the longing in his heart to see either his wife or his boys come in.

"Maybe they don't know it yet," he said to himself, after looking eagerly at the opening door, which, however, only admitted the nurse. "Or perhaps, perhaps, they don't care to come; and little wonder, too! Glad to be rid of me. And here I am for I don't know how long, confound it! with nothing to do but lie here and think, think, think!" He clenched his fist almost in despair. Ah! There lay the greatest dread; the physical pain was bad enough, but the pain at the heart was far worse—those troubling thoughts that would not be banished, but that clung to him with persistence, go where he would.

Yes, the three days that had elapsed since his visit to the Mission Hall had been three wretched days, for God had been striving, and he had been resisting that Holy Spirit, who would have led him to repentance and peace. But his reverie was at last broken by the arrival of Phil, who, having finished his work, had hurried to his father. He was rather awestruck at the bandaged head and pale face lying on the pillow, and putting his hand into his father's he said quietly, "Poor father! I'm so sorry. Are you very bad?"

"Bad enough, and no mistake, Phil."

"How did it happen, father?"

Mellor put his hand to his head. "I hardly know," he said; "it seems all confused; but your policeman friend, who brought me up here, said he'd find it all out. It's all like a dream; but my leg pains me dreadful, and my head too. I don't know, but I believe the horse kicked me."

Phil put his hand over his father's aching brow, and said quietly, "Yes, it's very bad to be kicked."

Mellor winced at the words, for they recalled how the bright boy before him had more than once been kicked, not by a runaway horse, but by his own father,—maddened, indeed, through drink. And yet, now that he was suffering, Phil was ready to come with sympathy and love, just as if the cruel past had never been; he was a strange lad, and no mistake!

For more than an hour did Phil stay, trying to while away the time, and to interest the sufferer, until at last the nurse came to him and told him he must leave, but could come again on the morrow.

"Of course, father, if I get work you won't see me; because, you know, I shall have to keep the family now." He said the words laughingly, while in his heart he knew they would be better off without him; and secretly he saw a more prosperous, peaceful time during his father's enforced absence, than he had hitherto known. But of all this he said nothing, and promising that either he or his mother should come on the morrow, he went away, leaving his father once more to the unpleasant society of his thoughts.

The ward in which he lay was a small one, and the bed on either side empty, so that Mellor was left pretty much to himself; but the nurse was kind, and sat by him, talking to him, until at last, weary with pain, he fell asleep.

Phil's first errand the next morning was to his friend Forbes, to find out from him the owner of the horse that had knocked down his father. "Because, you see, Mr. Forbes, I should think he ought to do something for us, and I'm going to try; only I wish I looked more decent; you see my clothes are so very shabby." Phil looked longingly at Forbes' blue coat, with its bright buttons, and then sadly at his own patched garments. "Mother sat up last night mending my jacket," he said, half apologetically; "because, you know, rags look dreadful."

"Well, let's see, Phil, I think I could find an old waistcoat of my Tom's that would look better than yours, and a necktie too. There; now you'll do. Well, it's Mr. Cross, the news-agent down in George Street, whose horse knocked your father down; not that he was to blame, though, from all I hear, for the horse is quiet enough, they say, but took fright at a traction engine. Anyhow, you might call down, Phil, and tell your story."

So off the boy went; and after a patient waiting, found himself in the presence of Mr. Cross, one of the busiest tradesmen in Helmstone, an advertising and news-agent.

"Now, my lad, what's your business?"

In few words Phil told of his father's accident. "And I should be very much obliged, sir, if you could give me work; because, you see, I shall have to keep mother and Rob now."

"Work, eh?" and Mr. Cross looked down at the little lad beside him, with his bright honest face, that had such a wonderful attraction about it. "Work? I fancy I should have the School Board officer down on me if I took you on here. How old are you?"

"Thirteen last Sunday, sir; so you see I'm all right that way; and, oh, please, sir, take me. I'll do anything."

Mr. Cross paused. He did want a boy just then. "Is there anybody knows you?" he said.

"Oh yes, sir; Mr. Forbes, the policeman, and Mr. Jasper up at the shed in Preece's Place."

The man smiled at Phil's two references. "Known to the police, eh?" he said.

"And there's Mr. Armstrong, sir, my teacher up at the Mission Hall in John Street, he can tell you all about me, and he lives up in Sydney Square."

"Mr. Armstrong the lawyer? I know him. Well, you can call round to-morrow morning at nine o'clock, and then I'll see what I can do for you, if he gives you a good character; but you must tidy yourself up a bit."

Phil looked despondent. "I'm afraid I can't, sir; these are all the clothes I have, and mother sat up last night mending them; but of course, if you take me on, sir—" and his face brightened at the thought—"I shall soon be able to buy some, and then I'll look respectable." And away he bounded in high spirits, confident that Mr. Armstrong would speak well of him. He was not mistaken, Mr. Armstrong's recommendation was good indeed.

"I believe he's perfectly straightforward and genuine, Mr. Cross; I've known him for nearly three years, and have never found him out in the smallest deception. His surroundings have been of the worst, but amidst all the lad has been kept true and honest; and I don't believe you'll ever regret taking him; and I should be glad to know he had work."

And so the next morning, when Phil presented himself punctually at nine o'clock, with face and hands as clean as soap and water could make them, the foreman met him with the welcome news that Mr. Cross would give him a trial, and he was set to work at once; sorting old newspapers, of which, to Phil's astonished eyes, there seemed to be thousands in that large warehouse behind the shop.

And so some good had come out of Stephen Mellor's accident; for thereby the boy was rescued from the dangers of a life in the streets, and taken into good regular employment.