Chapter I

The 'Caleb Jay'[14] was not, as his nickname of itself might testify, popular in our pit village of Black Winning. His appearance was against him in the first instance, and he continued to be shy and reserved even after you might be said to have made his acquaintance. Reserve is unpopular in any society, but in the lower social grades, where life is of a freer and more hearty character than in the propriety-loving circles of the well-to-do, it may be said to be one of the 'seven deadly sins.'

There was no reserve about Tom, his elder brother, who was a good-looking, idle, somewhat dissolute youth of twenty-three years of age.

Tom was always ready to 'stand in' for a 'ha'penny loo,' never flinched from a 'bout at the beer,' could throw a quoit well, when his eye was clear and his hand steady, and was never at a loss with the lasses.

Tom, therefore, was a general favourite, being 'well ta'en up wi'' by all save a few of the more serious-minded people; and 'Caleb Jay' suffered, I think, partly through contrast with his brother.

'Caleb Jay' had been injured when working as a putter down the pit, and consequently was 'game of one leg.' He wore the cast-off finery of his brother, the coloured scarves and embroidered waistcoats of his festive occasions--out of economy, no doubt, but some said 'oot o' foolishness.'

Certainly they did not suit well with his sallow complexion and thin, peaked countenance, and with the big and weary eyes.

He worked now at any odd job he could find. He had the care of the viewer's strip of kitchen garden, and went round with papers, etc.; but it was not much that he earned, apparently, for his mother, who doted on her handsome son Tom, was often heard to complain that he wasn't worth his keep.

He had a strange way of mysteriously disappearing for some days on occasion, sometimes even for a week at a stretch, and sundry persons, annoyed perhaps by his reticence, hinted at secret dissipation.

If closely questioned, he would admit having had a 'job i' the toon,' or 'ower away yonder,' pointing vaguely this way or that; and gossip had at least this confirmation for its uncharitable suspicion, that he always returned pale, tired and haggard-looking.

Some of the boys had tried to 'nab' him either coming or going on one of these expeditions of his, but he was 'cuter nor a cushat'[15] as I overheard a sporting youth lament who had followed him in early morning all the way to Oldcastle, and there in the suburbs had suddenly lost him just on the brink of discovering the secret.

Gradually we became accustomed to his flittings, and he was spied upon no more; but for my own part I thought I had, by a comparison of the times and seasons of his absences, at least discovered this much--that he was usually away at the incidence of fairs and festivals.

I think I knew him more intimately than any other person in the village, except, perhaps, our Methodist minister, who never rested till he had succoured any who might be in 'sickness, sorrow, or distress'; but to neither of us, I found, on comparing notes, had he ever vouchsafed any confidences.

The only way in which I eventually discovered I could be of any use to him was by lending him books. He was extremely fond of reading, and had a special taste for dramatic poetry, which he occasionally gratified by coming to my lodgings, and there devouring the historical plays and tragedies of Shakespeare.

I had once or twice on these occasions endeavoured to extort from him the secret of his absences, but the only result had been an increased reserve on his part, followed by an almost immediate departure from my presence, so that I had soon desisted from further questioning him on the point.

At the same time, I confess I entertained a lingering hope that I might one day be able to penetrate the mystery; for mystery of some sort I was convinced it was, though not of a vulgar kind.