It Is Never Too Late to Mend Part 103

Robinson went away discomfited; he went doggedly down the street begging them all to have their doors beautified, and wincing at every refusal.

At last he found a shopkeeper who had no objection, but doubted Robinson's capacity. "Show me what you can do," said he slyly, "and then I'll talk to you."

"Send for the materials," replied the artist, "and give me a board and I'll put half a dozen woods on the face of it."

"And pray," said the man, "why should I lay out my money in advertising you? No! you bring me a specimen, and if it is all right I'll give you the job."

"That is a bargain," replied Robinson, and went off. "How hard they make honesty to a poor fellow," muttered he bitterly, "but I'll beat them,"

and he clinched his teeth.

He went to a p.a.w.nbroker and p.a.w.ned the hat off his head--it was a new one; then for a halfpenny he bought a sheet of brown paper and twisted it into a workman's cap; he bought the brushes and a little paint and a little varnish, and then he was without a penny again. He went to a wheelwright's and begged the loan of a small valueless worm-eaten board he saw kicking about, telling him what it was for. The wealthy wheelwright eyed him with scorn. "Should I ever see it again?" asked he ironically.

"Keep it for your coffin," said Robinson fiercely, and pa.s.sed on. "How hard they make honesty to a poor fellow! I was a fool for asking for it when I might have taken it. What was there to hinder me? Honesty, my la.s.s, you are bitter."

Presently he came to the suburbs and there was a small wooden cottage.

The owner, a common laborer, was repairing it as well as he could.

Robinson asked him very timidly if he could spare a couple of square feet off a board he was sawing. "What for?" Robinson showed his paintpot and brushes, and told him how he was at a stand-still for want of a board. "It is only a loan of it I ask," said he.

The man measured the plank carefully, and after some hesitation cut off a good piece. "I can spare that much," said he; "poor folk should feel for one another."

"I'll bring it back, you may depend," said Robinson.

"You needn't trouble," replied the laboring man with a droll wink, as much as to say, "Gammon!"

When Robinson returned to the skeptical shopkeeper with a board on which oak, satin-wood, walnut, etc., were imitated to the life in squares, that worthy gave a start and betrayed his admiration, and Robinson asked him five s.h.i.+llings more than he would if the other had been more considerate. In short, before evening the door was painted a splendid imitation of walnut-wood, the shopkeeper was enchanted, and Robinson had fifteen s.h.i.+llings handed over to him. He ran and got Mr. Eden's ring out of p.a.w.n, and kissed it and put it on; next he liberated his hat. He slept better this night than the last. "One more such day and I shall have enough to pay my expenses to Bathurst."

He turned, out early and went into the town. He went into the street where he had worked last evening, and when he came near this door there was a knot of persons round it. Robinson joined them. Presently one of the shop-boys cried out, "Why, here he is; this is the painter!"

Instantly three or four hands were laid on Robinson. "Come and paint my door."

"No, come and paint mine!"

"No, mine!"

Tom had never been in such request since he was an itinerant quack. His sly eye twinkled, and this artist put himself up to auction then and there. He was knocked down to a tradesman in the same street--twenty-one s.h.i.+llings the price of this door (mock mahogany). While he was working commissions poured in and Robinson's price rose, the demand for him being greater than the supply. The mahogany door was really a chef-d'oeuvre. He came home triumphant with thirty s.h.i.+llings in his pocket, he spread them out on the kitchen table and looked at them with a pride and a thrill of joy money never gave him before. He had often closed the shutters and furtively spread out twice as many sovereigns, but they were only his, these s.h.i.+llings were his own. And they were not only his own but his own by labor. Each sacred s.h.i.+lling represented so much virtue; for industry is a virtue. He looked at them with a father's pride.

How sweet the b.u.t.ter our own hands have churned!--T. T.

He blessed his reverend friend for having taught him an art in a dunghole where idiots and savages teach crank. He blessed his reverence's four bones, his favorite imprecation of the benevolent kind.

I conclude the four bones meant the arms and legs. If so it would have been more to the point had he blessed the fifth--the skull.

Jenny came in and found him gloating over his virtuous s.h.i.+llings. She stared. He told her what he had been about these two days past, his difficulties, his success, the admiration his work excited throughout the capital (he must exaggerate a little or it would not be Tom Robinson), and the wealth he was ama.s.sing.

Jenny was glad to hear this, very glad, but she scolded him well for p.a.w.ning his hat. "Why didn't you ask me?" said she; "I would have lent you a pound or even two, or given them you for any _honest purpose_."

And Jenny pouted and got up a little quarrel.

The next day a gentleman caught Robinson and made him paint two doors in his fancy villa. Satin-wood this time; and he received three pounds three s.h.i.+llings, a good dinner, and what Bohemians all adore--Praise.

Now as he returned in the evening a sudden misgiving came to him. "I have not thought once of Bathurst to-day. I see--all this money-making is a contrivance to keep me in Sydney. It is absurd my coining paint at this rate. I see your game, my lad; either I am to fall into bad company again, or to be split upon and nabbed for that last job. To-morrow I will be on the road to Bathurst. I can paint there just as well as here; besides I have got my orders from his reverence to go, and I'll go."

He told Jane his resolution. She made no answer. While these two were sitting cozily by the fireside--for since Robinson took to working hard all day he began to relish the hearth at night--suddenly cheerful, boisterous voices, and Mr. Miles and two friends burst in and would have an extempore supper, and nothing else would serve these libertines but mutton-chops off the gridiron. So they invaded the kitchen. Out ran Jenny to avoid them--or put on a smarter cap; and Robinson was to cut the chops and lay a cloth on the dresser and help cook. While his master went off to the cellar the two rakes who remained chattered and laughed both pretty loud. They had dined together and the bottle had not stood still.

"I have heard that voice before," thought Robinson. "It is a very peculiar voice. Whose voice is that?"

He looked the gentleman full in the face and could hardly suppress a movement of surprise.

The gentleman by the instinct of the eye caught his, and his attention was suddenly attracted to Robinson, and from that moment his eye was never off Robinson, following him everywhere. Robinson affected not to notice this; the chops were grilling, Jenny came in and bustled about and pretended not to hear the side-compliments of the libertines.

Presently the young gentleman with the peculiar voice took out his pocketbook and said, "I have a bet to propose. I'll bet you fifty pounds I find the man you two hunted down the road on Monday night."

"No takers," replied Mr. Hazeltine with his mouth full.

"Stop a bit. I don't care if I make a time bet," said Miles. "How soon will you bet you catch him?"

"In half an hour," was the cool reply. And the Honorable George while making it managed at the same time in a sauntering sort of way to put himself between Robinson and the door that led out into the garden.

Robinson eyed him in silence and never moved.

"In half a hour. That is a fair bet," said Mr. Miles. "Shall I take him?"

"Better not; he is a knowing one. He has seen him to earth somewhere or he would not offer you such a bet."

"Well, I'll bet you five to three," proposed the Honorable George.

"Done!"

"Done!"

Robinson put in a hasty word: "And what is to become of Thimble-rig Jem, sir?" These words, addressed to Mr. Lascelles, produced a singular effect. That gentleman gave an immediate s.h.i.+ver, as if a bullet had pa.s.sed clean through him and out again, then opened his eyes and looked first at one door then at the other as if hesitating which he should go by. Robinson continued, addressing him with marked respect, "What I mean, sir, is that there is a government reward of two hundred pounds for Thimble-rig Jem, and the police wouldn't like to be drawn away from two hundred pounds after a poor fellow like him you saw on Monday night, one that is only suspected and no reward offered. Now Jem is a notorious culprit."

"Who is this Jem, my man? What is he?" asked Mr. Lascelles with a composure that contrasted remarkably with his late emotion.

"A convict escaped from Norfolk Island, sir; an old offender. I fell in with him once. He has forgotten me I dare say, but I never forget a man.

They say he has grown a mustache and whiskers and pa.s.ses himself off for a n.o.b; but I could swear to him."

"How? By what?" cried Mr. Miles.

"If he should ever be fool enough to get in my way--"

"Hang Thimble-rig Jem," cried Hazeltine. "Is it a bet, Lascelles?"

"What?"

"That you nab our one in half an hour?" Mr. Lascelles affected an aristocratic drawl. "No, I was joking. I couldn't afford to leave the fire for thirty pounds. Why should I run after the poor dayvil? Find him yourselves. He never annoyed me. Got a cigar, Miles?"

After their chops, etc., the rakes went off to finish the night elsewhere.

"There, they are gone at last! Why, Jenny, how pale you look!" said Robinson, not seeing the color of his own cheek. "What is wrong?" Jenny answered by sitting down and bursting out crying. Tom sat opposite her with his eyes on the ground.

"Oh, what I have gone through this day!" cried Jenny. "Oh! oh! oh! oh!"

sobbing convulsively.

What could Tom do but console her? And she found it so agreeable to be consoled that she prolonged her distress. An impressionable Bohemian on one side a fireplace, and a sweet, pretty girl crying on the other, what wonder that two o'clock in the morning found this pair sitting on the same side of the fire aforesaid--her hand in his?