Chapter XI: How Tom Fared

TOM was very miserable when he awoke. Dick was not by his side, and he had evidently slept until a late hour. He tried to rouse himself and stand up, but he felt very weak and ill. He was sitting with his head between his hands, thinking of the last night's catastrophe, when Dick appeared, carrying a bundle. The boys had not slept in a boat, but under an archway in the cliff.

"Tom, old boy," said his friend, "I've been doing my best for you. I woke up early, and as you were still asleep, I thought I'd do you a good turn with Miss Pringle, so I went to her and said I was to blame for taking you out, and I asked her to forgive you this once. Then I told her how sorry you were, and how the state of the tide deceived us both."

"Well, what did she say?" asked Tom.

"She won't take you back on no account. She made me wait while she packed your clothes, and told me to tell you that you'd better go home."

"I'll never do that," replied Tom, angrily; "but I wish, Dick, you'd minded your own business, and left me to manage mine."

"I do call that unkind. It's not like you, Tom; but it never answers to help a fellow out of a scrape."

"I think I'll go and beg her pardon, at any rate. Don't you be vexed, Dick; I suppose you meant to be kind. Give me a helping hand."

When Tom stood up, he was so giddy that he was glad to lie down again.

"I can't go," he said, piteously, "I feel so ill. Mother is going to Miss Pringle this morning with my clothes; ask her to come here."

Dick was very glad to be thus dismissed in order to escape further questioning from Tom.

And now we must inform our readers of the substance of the conversation which took place between him and the spinster, when he went, as he said, to do his friend a good turn.

He had waited until the harbour clock struck six, and, rejoicing that Tom still slept, he ran to Miss Pringle's house. She was sweeping her shop, and grumbling meanwhile at having to do it herself.

Dick rang the outside bell.

She went hastily to the door, her face wearing its most severe expression; and, to her astonishment, she saw a strange boy. Miss Pringle had resolved to keep Tom for the six months. In many respects he suited her, and she had even once or twice entertained the idea of giving him a shilling a week at the end of half a year, for he appeared, on the whole, to fit in better than any boy she had had before; but Tom must show signs of repentance, and be severely punished for his disobedience. She considered turning him adrift into the streets for the night would be wholesome discipline; and hence she told Annie not to admit him if he knocked and rang twenty times, for he should never enter her house again.

"Who are you?" Miss Pringle asked, when she saw the strange boy at her door.

"I'm Tom Gillies' friend," said Dick. "I've called for his clothes; he ain't coming back again; he don't take to the baking business."

"Impertinent boy!" exclaimed the spinster, angrily. "How dare he treat me so rudely! I'll complain to his mother."

"They can't do nothing with him at home," said Dick, in a plausible tone. "He didn't ought to behave so to you. I'm sure other boys would be glad to live here."

"Certainly," replied Miss Pringle. "I really cannot understand Tom; he mentioned nothing to me about leaving yesterday."

"He was so angry because you didn't let him in last night, and made him sleep under the archway; he says it was barbarous of you, and you oughtn't to have treated him so badly."

"Oh, that's the way he talks about his wicked behaviour; he wishes to turn the tables on me, I suppose. You may take his clothes away; but it's very annoying to be left without a boy."

"I suppose I shouldn't do?" said Dick, looking very humble. "I should like to live with you."

"What's your name?"

"Dick Potter. I come from Norton Island."

"If I take you, I must learn something about your parents. I have known Mrs. Gillies for many years, but I do not know your mother."

"I haven't got a mother of my own," said Dick, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Mother died years ago, and father's married again, and there's a lot of children at home."

"When could you come to me?"

"To-day; for I'm sure Mr. Pender would let me off at once. I only get odd jobs to do at the quarries, and I do want reg'lar work."

"If you live with me, you will have to work hard; I cannot have lazy people here. Tom did his work well if he liked. Are you certain he sent you for his clothes?"

"Quite certain, Miss Pringle. If you'd heard what shameful language he used about you, I'm sure you'd have sent them away, even if I hadn't come after them."

"I thought you were his friend," said the spinster, sharply.

"So I am, for we've been brought up together, I might almost say; but, for all that, I like justice to be done to people who's as kind to 'em as you've been to Tom."

Time was fast slipping away, and Miss Pringle had to bake her bread; she had hoped Tom would return in time to light the fire.

"Wait a moment while I fetch the clothes," she said, "for I must make my bread at once, or I shall be behind all day."

She went to the drawers, and then discovered that Tom had worn his every-day suit.

"Deceitful boy!" she muttered. "He must have been bent on mischief or he would not have changed his clothes secretly. I'm sure he's no loss."

"There is the bundle," she said, giving it to Dick; "if you like to take it to Tom, and return to me, I will see how you can work."

"I shan't be long," replied Dick.

Soon after the bundle of clothes was despatched, Mrs. Gillies called to see her son, and heard an exaggerated account of his behaviour from Miss Pringle. She scarcely heeded her last words, "I've got another boy in his place," but started away to find Tom, for the spinster could give her no information as to his whereabouts. She met Dick, who directed her, but he did not tell her whither he was going, and she was so full of seeking for Tom, she did not remark on the strangeness of meeting him in the town at that early hour.

"A pretty state of things!" she said, angrily, when she found her son. "You'll ruin yourself, Tom, and your father will be terribly vexed. I don't know what to do with you. I suppose you must go back home with me. Will is coming over in his boat at two o'clock, so get up and don't lie idly there. I'll ask Mother Crampton to let you sit in her chimney corner until I'm ready, and the boat's here."

Tom tried to rise, but could not steady himself without his mother's help, he was so stiff and giddy.

"Here's a bad boy come to sit in your kitchen, Mother Crampton," said Mrs. Gillies, dragging her son in. "He's been up to some of his old games, and Miss Pringle's sent him off."

Tom looked so miserable that the Dame made no remark. She had imagined something was amiss when he did not keep his appointment on the previous afternoon.

"He's welcome to stay here," she replied.

"Then I'm off," said Mrs. Gillies. "I shall be back long before two o'clock. Sit by the fire, Tom, and don't stand shivering there."

Mother Crampton had no time to ask any questions for the first hour; but when her bed was made, and her room tidied, she put the breakfast things on a round table near the fire, with a loaf and butter.

Tom sat with his head in his hands, and took no notice; he felt very much ashamed, and fancied he was very ill.

"Come, my boy, cheer up," said Mother Crampton; "drink a cup of tea, eat the thin slice of bread and butter I'm cutting for you, and then tell me all about yesterday."

By degrees she drew from Tom the history of his Sunday excursion with Dick, and why he had not come to see her.

"I'm very sorry to hear all this," she remarked, when he ceased speaking. "Oh, Tom, you've been tying and not untying knots all the week. I did so hope you were going to turn over a new leaf. I really am very very much grieved and disappointed."

Tom's tears began to fall fast. If Mother Crampton had scolded, he could have borne it better than her kind, earnest words.

"But it really was all Dick's fault," he sobbed. "I shouldn't have thought about going to Lockstone if he hadn't asked me."

"But not his fault that you yielded to the temptation. If you succumb to every unholy influence that you meet with in this world, you will heap up sorrow here and hereafter."

"I never have been so wretched in all my life, except—" and Tom stopped, for he thought of grandmother's cat, and this made him remember that he was going home, and would see her. "I can't, I really can't," he added aloud, "I can't go home, Mother Crampton, for she—I mean, they'll all be so angry with me."

"You must bear it as part of the punishment you have brought on yourself. You are not well enough to take another situation directly; but I will promise you, that if at the end of a week, I hear a good character of you, and your cold is gone, you shall come and stay here until I find you something to do."

Tom's eyes brightened. "That'll make them kinder to me," he said. "Father told me never to show my face there again if I didn't stay with Miss Pringle; but perhaps he won't be so angry if I tell him what you say."

"Deeds, not words, my boy," said Mother Crampton, drinking her last cup of tea. "I'll step over the way, for I fancy neighbour Driver may want a boy to help in his bakehouse."

Tom's face fell. "I'd rather be anything than a baker's boy," he exclaimed.

Then checking himself, he added, "I'll do my best to be good. If only Dick Potter will keep clear of me, I shan't mind. Miss Pringle will tell you that I tried hard to please her, though once or twice I was very wicked," for Tom remembered the peach and apples.

"You must try and be good, Tom, because you serve a great King. It's no use for you to think that you'll be different if away from Dick's influence; you must pray that strength may come to enable you to endure temptation, as a good soldier of Christ."

Mother Crampton had put away her last tea-cup when a tap came at her door; the latch was lifted up, and a fresh-coloured woman with a good-natured face looked in.

"Good morning, Mother," she said, in a friendly, cheery voice. "I've just stepped over to tell you that my Jack has given us up, for he's had an offer to better himself in a gentleman's family; so if you hear of a steady boy who'll ride our horses, and take out the vegetables, I shall be glad. I'd rather not have a Dixtown boy, for I don't want him to be running off home at all hours. He must sleep under the counter, and do any odd jobs that are wanted. He's treated like one of the family if he behaves himself. I can't stay, for there's nobody to mind the shop." And, without adding another word, Mrs. Jones closed the door.

Tom had risen in his excitement, and he looked very wistful. "Oh, Mother Crampton, do you think she'd have me? I will try so hard to please her, she's so different from Miss Pringle," he said.

"It really does seem a lucky thing, and, yet there's no such thing as luck, Tom," replied the old woman, thoughtfully. "I believe, my dear, it's God helping you. I'll go and say a word for you at once."

The boy sat in great anxiety, and thought Mother Crampton would never come back. She and her opposite neighbour were on very friendly terms. Mrs. Jones was a young married woman with two children. Her husband kept a greengrocer's shop, and had six bathing machines besides. She superintended the shop in the morning when the bathing season commenced, while Mr. Jones and his boy were attending to the bathers. They had a good vegetable and fruit garden one mile out of Dixtown, but they lived over the shop. They were kind-hearted, honest, and hard-working people, who highly appreciated good Mother Crampton.

The dame did not find it very difficult to induce Mrs. Jones to give Tom a trial, though she told her much of his past history.

"I'd take him to please you," said the greengrocer's wife; "send him over here at one o'clock, husband will be at home then."

Tom almost forgot his illness and misery when Mother Crampton returned with such good news. He brushed his hair, and washed his hands, and waited anxiously for one o'clock to strike.

Mr. Jones was pleased with him, he appeared so desirous of finding a situation, and answered the questions he was asked in a straightforward manner; so he was engaged to come for a month on trial, at the rate of three shillings a week, and his food and lodging.

It seemed like a fortune to Tom.

"Mind, boy," said Mr. Jones as he was leaving, "I won't have yesterday's behaviour repeated. Mother Crampton has told my missus all about it. If you play truant, I'll turn you out neck and crop—no Sunday gadding here. We treat our boy well, and expect him to attend church, and walk out with us and the children on fine afternoons. You may go over and see Mother Crampton sometimes; and I'll give you a holiday home from Saturday until Monday once in six months."

Tom could only keep reiterating, "Thank you, sir," and pulling the front lock of big hair, until it was a wonder he did not pull it out.

"When shall I be wanted?" he asked.

"Let's see—Jack goes on Monday. Come a week to-morrow," answered Mr. Jones.

"O Mother Crampton! How can I thank you enough?" said Tom, rushing into the room. "I'm engaged, and I'm going to get three shillings a week. Oh, how jolly! How jolly!"

"You seem wonderful better," said Mrs. Gillies, whom Tom had not perceived in his excitement.

"Yes, I am, mother, for I'm so happy. Only think—I'm to have three shillings a week. Father won't be angry to see me." And he clapped his hands and danced about with pleasure.

Mother Crampton found an opportunity of whispering in his ear before he left, "My boy, if you wish to show your gratitude to me, you will begin to pray."

"I promise you I will," replied Tom; and so they parted.

"Hallo! How is it you're back, like a bad penny?" Will, who was waiting at the harbour, asked his brother.

"I'm only come for a holiday," said Tom, looking very red.

"Has Miss Pringle been so handsome as to let you off so soon?"

"Tom isn't going back to Miss Pringle," answered Mrs. Gillies. "He's going to a place where he'll get good victuals and three shillings a week."

Mother Crampton had entreated her not to scold Tom.

"Make the best of it," she said. "The boy has had a bad companion in Dick Potter; let us see what we can do by treating him as if he were not worse than others. I like him with all his faults, and I mean to be his friend."

Tom's appearance at home caused some excitement; but after his father had heard his wife's version of the story, and his three elder brothers had put their questions, he was allowed to remain in peace, and thoroughly enjoyed the tea and fish, of which the whole family partook. He was telling them about his life with Miss Pringle, when three taps came at the door which made his blood run cold, for they told him that grandmother was there.

She looked annoyed to see him. "Just as I expected," she said, contemptuously. "You'll never stay anywhere. You're a bad, worthless boy."

"Gently, gently, granny," said Mrs. Gillies. "Tom has come home for a holiday. He's bettered himself, and is going to live with Mr. Jones, the green-grocer, now."

"Oh, that's it, is it? Well, it doesn't matter to me where he goes, so that he isn't idling about the island with Dick Potter. I called to see if one of the boys would come over to-morrow morning. I've had a willow given to me for poor Tabby's grave—" and here the old woman's voice trembled a little—"and I want it planted, and the fuchsia that's there now put in the garden."

"I'll come in the evening," said Will, "but I shan't have time in the morning. We go away fishing first thing."

"I daresay the evening will do just as well," replied granny, "for the tree has a good root; it won't die if it's left out of the ground another day."

"May I come to you in the morning?" Tom ventured to say. "I can dig as well as the boys."

"'You!'" exclaimed old Mrs. Gillies, in a voice that stung Tom. "As if I should ask you to do anything for me. Will, do not forget your promise. Good-bye all."

"Granny will never like you, Tom, that's quite certain," remarked Harry, rising from the table as he spoke. "Come, Will, we must see to our nets, and get ready for to-morrow."

Tom was miserable again. He followed his mother into the kitchen, and said, "I'll go to bed, for I feel as if I were beginning to shiver again."

"I would if I were you," she answered, kindly. "A long night will do you a deal of good."

Tom prayed his first earnest prayer before he undressed. The words he said were somewhat rambling, but they came from his heart. Then he crept into his corner of the room, and was soon so fast asleep, that he did not hear his little brothers come to bed.

The next morning he felt much better, and could not resist a great desire that possessed him to see Tabby's grave; yet he did not wish to meet his grandmother.

He walked along the shore so as not to be seen approaching by her, and clambered up the cliff close to the door of the cottage; but his precautions availed nothing, for granny caught sight of him, and called out, "What are you prowling about here for, Tom? You never do any one credit. It shows how bad you are, for Miss Pringle to send you away and take Dick in your place."

"What do you mean?" asked Tom in astonishment. "Who told you Dick was going to live with Miss Pringle?"

"He told me so himself last night. I met him on my way home after I'd seen you. He came over to fetch his clothes. I heard a few things about you from him."

"I'll fight him for telling lies. I know he's played me false," said Tom; and, without waiting to think, he ran off to find his former friend.

Mrs. Potter was busy washing when Tom entered her cottage, and asked, in a very unceremonious manner, "Where's Dick?"

"Gone to his new situation. How was it you didn't suit Miss Pringle, Tom?"

"I did suit her until Dick interfered," replied the lad, more quietly, for Mrs. Potter had asked the question very kindly.

"I hope you will soon find another place."

"I've got one already," replied Tom, and his face cleared. "I'm glad not to go back and live with Miss Pringle; but I hate to be so badly treated as Dick's treated me."

Mrs. Potter would have probably encouraged Tom to give his version of the story had she not been very busy and really intensely relieved to think that her stepson had gone to live a little distance off.

Tom had so much food for thought, he forgot all about his desire to see Tabby's grave, and sat on a rock wondering how ever Dick managed to ingratiate himself into Miss Pringle's good graces.

"If I find he's played me false, I'll fight him, that I will," he said, aloud.

"And tie another knot," Tom seemed to hear.

"No, I won't do that," he said, as if answering some one who spoke. "I'll pray instead. After all, I've got the best of the bargain, and I know I don't deserve it. How I wish I was good, like Miss Annie and Mother Crampton."

When Tom returned home, he found his sister alone, for the little ones were at school, and his mother gone to Dixtown. They had a long talk together, and Sally was deeply interested in all that he told her about his new friends; he read to her the chapter from "Come to Jesus," entitled, "Ye who are Young, Come," and she said she should remember the words about tying fresh knots.

"I'll buy you a book like mine, Sally," said Tom, "as soon as I get my first wages, and I mean to buy myself a Bible. Have you got one?"

"Yes, of course I have; don't you remember I had it for a prize from Mr. Pender while I was at school."

Mrs. Gillies returned from Dixtown late in the afternoon, and found Tom sitting quietly at home, telling his little brothers and sisters a story.

"What do you say to Dick having gone to live with Miss Pringle?" she asked him.

"He's played me false, mother; but, after all, he's done me good. Have you spoken to him?"

"Certainly I have. He looks very meek indeed; and Miss Pringle says she never had such a boy; but new brooms sweep clean. Dick has only been tried for a few hours. He sent his love to you."

"I'd rather not have it. Did you tell him, mother, I'd got another situation?"

"Yes; I couldn't help it."

"What did he say?"

"Not much; but I thought he looked rather vexed when he heard you were to have three shillings a week."

"I'm off to grandmother, Tom," said Will, looking in at the door. "You may as well come and help me."

Tom was glad to accompany his brother, though granny scowled when she saw him.

"I want his help," explained Will.

"Oh, very well," she replied, "then I've nothing more to say. I know it seems nonsense to you for me to make all this fuss about a cat's grave," she continued, when Will began removing the shells; "but I loved Tabby so much. I declare I looked for her to meet me just as your mother looks out for you. A lone woman takes to dumb animals. I never returned home without wondering if she was watching for me to come."

"Why don't you get another, granny?" asked Will.

"I'd rather not. I don't want to love another as I loved poor Tabby."

Tom felt very guilty, and was thoroughly glad when all was in order again. He applied himself to place the shells with such exactness that he won thanks from grandmother on leaving.

"I can't have the big knot I tied when I killed Tabby for ever on my shoulders," he thought, when he was alone. "I'll make up my mind to buy grandmother a handsome kitten with my first wages, and it shall have a red collar. I'll tell Mother Crampton, that I will, and ask her opinion. Perhaps she'll advise me to confess to granny how wicked I have been; but I don't know how I ever shall, for she downright hates me now."