Chapter VI: Tom at His Situation

THE boat reached the landing stage by seven o'clock on Saturday morning.

"Carry your bundle, Tom, and follow me," said his mother. "I'll just take you to Miss Pringle, and then I'm off to sell my prawns."

As Mrs. Gillies passed up the narrow street where Mother Crampton lived, she stopped for a moment to speak to the dame, who was standing at her door.

"Good morning, mother," she said. "This is my son. He's the one I told you was going to live with Miss Pringle."

The old woman smiled kindly at Tom. She liked the expression of his face.

"How different she is to grandmother Gillies!" thought the boy. "I'm sure I shouldn't teaze her cat."

"Is your name Tom?" she asked.

"Yes," answered Mrs. Gillies. "He was christened Thomas, but we generally call him Tom, sometimes Tommy, it doesn't matter which. He's on his own account from this day. I'm sure he's old enough to earn his living."

"I hope I shall hear that you're doing well," said Mother Crampton, looking at Tom. "You may call and see me whenever you've half an hour to spare."

"Thank you!" he answered.

"That's kind of you; for he won't be able to come home very often on Saturday, because of his having to be back on Sunday evening to be ready for Monday morning's baking," added Mrs. Gillies. "Our being on that bit of an island makes us obliged to fetch him and send him back. There isn't a fisherman in Dixtown who'd do the journey one way under a shilling."

"Couldn't either of your sons help him?" asked Mother Crampton.

"They'll help him when business calls them here, but they work so hard, poor fellows, I couldn't ask them to come on purpose."

"Then, Tom, I will invite you to spend any Sunday evening that Miss Pringle spares you with me; but remember, I'm a quiet old body, and can't bear noise. Will you like to come?" asked Mother Crampton.

"Oh! Yes, please," answered the boy; "and I'm sure I could sit still if you'd talk to me."

Mrs. Gillies looked surprised. "He's behaving like a gentleman, I declare," she said. "He's subdued-like, because he's got a black eye. He went out and fell over the rocks. But come, Tom; I haven't any more time to spend in gossip."

Tom allowed his mother to go forward a few steps, and then he turned to Dame Crampton and said, "I don't believe I shall ever want to be mischievous when I'm with you. Good-bye!"

The mother and son walked briskly through the town, and soon reached the baker's shop which was to be Tom's home.

Miss Pringle had just finished her breakfast in the kitchen. She had prepared a second bowl of porridge for her new boy, for she expected him to arrive early, and felt she could not very well suffer him to be hungry until dinner-time; and, in fact, there was no economy in so doing, for he would only eat more then. She came into the shop when she heard the sound of voices, and Tom met his new mistress for the first time.

After a few preliminaries were arranged, and Miss Pringle had asked Tom how he came by his black eye, his mother said, "I shall call for his clothes every Saturday. Of course, I shall wash and mend them for him, and I dare say I shall look in now and then to see how he's getting on."

"I never encourage much intercourse with home, Mrs. Gillies," answered Miss Pringle, stiffly. "I keep my boy fully occupied, and always find he works better if he doesn't see too much of his relations."

"Oh! Very well; it's the same to me. I'll only come and fetch the clothes on Saturday." And nodding to her son, Mrs. Gillies left the shop and walked up the street, crying, "Who'll buy fine prawns?"

She was so fortunate in finding customers that she was ready to return home at noon; but knowing that Will would be busy in Dixtown until one o'clock, she went to Mother Crampton's to spend the spare hour.

We must return to Tom.

"Follow me," said Miss Pringle so soon as they were alone.

Tom took up his parcel and walked behind his new mistress into the kitchen. He stood at the window and watched her while she went to the fire and set on a saucepan. In a few moments he heard her say, "It's nice and hot now," and then she poured the contents into a basin of exactly the same dimensions as one already standing on a round table.

She placed the basin, with an iron spoon, opposite to her own and sat down, and pointing to a wooden stool, ordered Tom to take his place. He did so, and found himself face to face with Miss Pringle, who was unlike any one he had ever seen before. He wondered how he should get on with her, for he already felt quite subdued in her presence.

"Your name is Thomas, I think," she said, in a grave voice.

"Yes, missus, but I'm most always called Tom."

"Say, 'Yes, Miss Pringle.' I always like my name pronounced by my boys when they address me. Now hear what I have to say. Don't think I'm a rich woman, Tom; I'm very poor, and have hard work to earn my living; therefore, I expect my boy to do his best to save me from all unnecessary expense. As to your food, you live just the same as I do, so there can't be any grumbling about not being well fed. Would you like me to tell you exactly what you have to do all day?"

"Yes, Miss Pringle."

"We rise at five o'clock in summer, six in winter, and on Sundays at seven all the year round. You will hear the clock strike, and know when to get up. I expect you to be dressed and waiting for me in the kitchen by a quarter past seven to-morrow, and on Monday by a quarter past five; but I do not wish you to unfasten a shutter or undraw a bolt until I come down-stairs. When we have opened the house, you will have to heat the oven while I make the bread; then you will sweep out the shop and dust the bottles of sweets that stand in the window. Mind, I do not allow you to take a single drop; I shall prosecute you if you touch one: it's the kindest thing for me to do, and will save you, perhaps, from being hanged; for great crimes generally come out of little beginnings.

"You have to scrub the shop floor once a week, but you must wash the stone steps every morning. Then you have to carry the bread out, attend to the garden, fetch water, gather the fruit and sell it, and do just whatever is wanted. I'm quite as particular about the fruit as the sweets; if I find you eating a bruised apple, I shall stop off part of your dinner; but if you gather an apple or a peach, I shall give you into the policeman's hands.

"I've forgotten one thing here in the house, that is the stairs; you have to sweep them down every morning. My bedroom is always locked, for I attend to that myself; and the gentleman and his daughter who lodge with me want nothing from you except civility. Now and then I shall not mind your going home on Saturday until Sunday evening, but only as a great treat; for, as I told your mother, I don't encourage too much visiting of any kind. You'll go to church with me on Sunday morning, and after dinner, your time is your own until half-past seven in winter, and half-past eight in summer."

While Miss Pringle was speaking, Tom played with his iron spoon, for he did not like to begin to eat without receiving her permission. She now signified to him that he should take his porridge, and she handed him a thick slice of stale bread.

"It's very good bread, and not too new," she said. "I often wonder how my customers can do with it so fresh from the oven; it's very bad for their digestion."

Tom soon dispatched his porridge, but he found it a harder matter to eat the bread, so he quietly slipped what remained of his slice into his pocket, when his mistress was making up the kitchen fire.

"Now you've finished, I'll show you where you sleep, and a drawer in which you may keep your clothes," said Miss Pringle. "Bring your bundle with you. This is your room," and she pointed to the hole under the staircase. "You have a comfortable bed here, and I allow you clean sheets once a month. This top drawer," and she opened one of a chest that stood in a recess between the kitchen and staircase, "is for your clothes. You can wash in the kitchen; I allow you a clean towel once a fortnight. I will show you where you may keep it; and you will always find soap in the dish by the side of the sink. Unpack your clothes, and then come to me in the kitchen."

Tom was too much surprised to speak. He had been accustomed to rough food and a hard bed, but he had never eaten such stale bread before, nor slept in a blackhole under the staircase.

He soon disposed of his small wardrobe in the one drawer allotted to him, and then went to Miss Pringle, who was sweeping the shop. "This is scrubbing day," she called out, when she saw him enter. "Take the pail to the pump, and fill it with water, and let me see you go to work."

Tom filled the pail, and began to scrub for the first time in his life. He found it more difficult than he anticipated, for he had a hard mistress to please. First he held the brush wrongly; then he made the floor too wet; then he wasted the soap by leaving it in the water; and at last, he could have cried with mortification.

Miss Pringle watched him for some time before she began to dust the bottles in the window. "These are the sweets, Tom, I spoke of," she said, tapping one of them with her knuckles. "Again I tell you that if you steal a single drop, you will find your way to the police-station."

Tom was a long time before he finished scrubbing the shop. Afterwards, he was ordered to sweep the stairs.

"They're only scrubbed once a mouth," said his mistress.

The boy found this task as difficult as the scrubbing, for he could not manage his great broom. He was labouring over the undertaking, when a door at the top of the staircase opened, and a young girl appeared with a teapot. It was Annie Newton, who, remembering what Mother Crampton had said about Tom, and seeing him, broom in hand, move down the stairs to give her room to pass, said, "How do you do? I hope we shall soon be good friends."

Tom's heart warmed towards Annie; she looked so pleasant, and spoke to him as if he were her equal. So he answered, "Thank you, miss. Can I fill your teapot? The water doesn't quite boil, I know; I'll bring it up when it's ready."

Miss Pringle came out of the kitchen at this moment to look after Tom, so Annie thought it was better to fill the teapot herself.

"Oh! It's you, Miss Annie. Come for your hot water, I suppose," said the spinster. "That's my new boy; he isn't very handy yet, but I hope he'll turn out well when he's been properly taught. How's your father this morning?"

"Tolerably well, thank you," replied the young girl. "He seems in much better spirits about his eyesight."

Having filled her teapot, Annie passed Tom again, and smiled at him, as he stepped on one side to make way for her.

"I'll do anything for you," thought the boy. "How odd it is that, since I've been at Dixtown, I've seen two people that I don't think I could have behaved so badly to as I did to grandmother! I don't believe I should have taken Harry's boat if they'd been with me instead of Dick."

And then Tom remembered the poor cat and its untimely end, and was so absorbed that he stood with his chin on the broom, and did not hear Miss Pringle come softly out of the kitchen to see what he was doing. She brought him back to himself by laying her hand heavily on his shoulder, and saying, "This won't do. I can't have an idle boy."

Tom looked very red, and set to work again, nor did he allow his attention to flag until he had finished Saturday's cleaning.

"What am I to do next?" he asked, appealing to his mistress.

"Carry out the bread," she replied. "That is the basket on the shelf. There are four families I send to. The people at the great house, they have six loaves. Then there is Mrs. Richards in High Street has three loaves; Mr. Johnson the butcher has three, and Mr. Smart the grocer three. Now mind, I allow no playing on the road; you must not be gone more than half an hour."

Tom walked away at a quick pace, and soon deposited his six loaves at the great house. "I won't be behind to-day," he muttered, as he bent his steps towards the High Street. But Tom, it must be remembered, made resolutions in his own strength, and was infirm of purpose. He had not gone very far before he stopped to look at some boys playing marbles; and then at a sailor who was carrying home a toy sailing-boat, so that, though he hurried the rest of the way, he lost five minutes, which he could not make up.

Miss Pringle did not comment on his length of absence, and Tom hoped he had escaped reproof; but when dinner-time came, he was informed that he would have dry bread and water, and no bacon, which Miss Pringle ate alone. She generally punished her boys for minor offences by stopping off part of their food, because it answered a twofold purpose; saved her provisions, and taught them that they could not disobey her commands without reaping bitter consequences.

The boy felt very indignant. He would have promised to do better had she given him a kind word of remonstrance, but to be deprived of half his dinner made him rebellious.

"Take the basket and fill it with fallen apples," said his mistress later in the day.

Tom was no longer bright and happy, or inclined to be obedient. "The disagreeable old thing!" he murmured, as he walked down the garden. "I'll eat some, that I will."

He picked up the apples, which were scattered about in every direction, and ate as fast as he could meanwhile.

Opposite the apple-tree was a well-filled peach-tree. "How good they look! I'm sure she hasn't behaved so well at starting that I need be careful about taking just one," thought Tom. So he made a long step across the border and gathered the largest he could see. He put it hastily into his pocket, and was about to demolish it behind a shrub, when he heard his mistress call "Tom."

"She's seen me from the window," he exclaimed. "No, she's not," he added, for Miss Pringle was talking to a lady.

It was Mrs. Wyvil from the great house, who came to buy fruit. She looked into Tom's basket, and offered Miss Pringle two shillings for its contents. The offer was accepted, and Tom was ordered to carry them across at once; which he did after secreting the peach in his drawer as he passed the staircase.

The remainder of the day was spent in digging up potatoes and weeding the gravel walk. Tom was glad to pause for a quarter of an hour and sit down to his tea in the kitchen when the clock struck five, for he had never worked so hard before in his life. His allowance was a bowl of very weak tea, with a slice of the same stale bread, and a thin scraping of butter on it.

"Now, Tom, get to work again," called the spinster from the shop when the clock chimed the quarter. "At ten minutes to eight you may put away your tools and come to supper."

When the evening meal was concluded, Miss Pringle said, "I want you to read a chapter out of the Bible to me, Tom; but before you begin, tell me, on your honour, did you eat any apples?"

"No, Miss Pringle."

"I believe you. Now read the twentieth chapter of the book of Exodus."

Tom felt a twinge. After, all Miss Pringle was better than he believed her to be; for she supposed that he told the truth. He had a second twinge when he read the commandments through, for had he not stolen? Was not the peach in a corner of his drawer?

"I allow you ten minutes to get into bed, Tom," said his mistress. "Don't be longer."

The boy took care to put the peach under his pillow, lest Miss Pringle should look into his drawer when she came to take away his candle. So soon as he was alone, he ate it, but he did not enjoy it in the least, for he could not forget the words he had been reading. "Thou shalt not steal," came to him again and again; and, somehow, the peach and grandmother's cat were strangely mixed up in his dreams; so, though he slept soundly, he felt very tired and miserable when he awoke next morning.