The Story of Antony Grace Part 60

"Ah," he said, speaking in a great hurry, "you're Antony Grace, our new pupil, are you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Miss Carr's young friend. Knew Carr: clever, wealthy man."

"Indeed, sir?"

"Yes, only had one fault--died twenty years too soon. Been a millionaire and a modest man combined. _Rara avis_, eh? Ha, ha, ha!

Tom!"

"Yes, father."

The answer came from an inner office, and a good-looking youth, wonderfully like Mr Girtley, came out with a pencil across his mouth, a pen behind his ear, a scale in one hand, and a pair of compa.s.ses in the other. "This is Antony Grace; you take charge of him and show him about. Take it coolly. _Festina lente_, you know. I say, Antony Grace, what does _rara avis_ mean?"

"A rare or strange bird, sir."

"Good lad. And _festina lente_?"

"Hasten slowly, sir."

"Good lad. You're all right with your Latin, then. I wasn't when I began. Had to learn it after I was twenty. Well, I'm busy, Tom; you understand; he'll be a bit nervous and strange, so don't worry him. Let him take in spoonfuls first. He'll learn to drink big draughts later on."

"I'm very busy over those syphon plans, father."

"Ah, the new syphon. Yes, that must be done. Well, I'll set Browning to do them."

"I'd--I'd much rather finish them myself," said the youth.

"Of course you would. Well, then, I'll give you a fortnight's extension; then you can finish them and have plenty of time for Antony Grace as well. Take him round the works, and then you can go down the river for a run. And, by-the-way, Tom, go in one of the new boats, and tip the engineer. Have a good look at those fresh oscillating cylinders, and see whether you think they beat ours. I'm off. You were quite punctual, Antony Grace, or you wouldn't have seen me. Always keep your appointments exactly. Good-morning; glad to see you. Hope you'll get on and like the business. Work hard at it, and mind this--steady application wins. Bring him home to dinner to-night, Tom. Eh? yes."

"Mr Williamson to see you, sir," said a clerk.

"My compliments to Mr Williamson, and he must make another appointment.

He is an hour after the time he named, and I am engaged for the rest of the day. Lesson in punctuality, Antony Grace," he said, nodding. "I'm off."

The door closed after his retreating figure, and Tom and I stood staring, probably thinking the same thing, whether we should like one another. The result of the scrutiny was satisfactory to me, for there was something very pleasant in the young fellow's frank open countenance, and I longed to meet with a companion nearly my own age.

"Well," he said quietly, "suppose we have a look round. I shan't work any more at my plans this morning. This is my place," he continued, taking me into the inner office, where a great broad mahogany desk was covered with papers. "You'll have that one; it was Bailey's; he was father's pupil; he's gone out to India on the Great Central."

I said, "Has he?" but I had no idea whether the Great Central was a s.h.i.+p or a great engine.

"There are my plans for a self-acting syphon. Those parts coloured red are where the vacuum valves will come in, and, of course, this lower part takes the place of a steam-pump."

"Does it?" I said, laughing. "But I don't understand it a bit."

"No, of course not," he said, laughing too. "Well, you'll soon learn.

You'll like father, and we'll like you if you'll work well. Bailey and he did not get on at all."

"Didn't Bailey work well?" I said, as a vision of the idle apprentice came before my eyes.

"Father used to say he was like an engine with a bad stoker. He was either racing, or there was no steam un. He'd work furiously for two days, and then he'd idle for a week."

"Mr Girtley is fond of work, then?"

"Father says everyone was meant to work, and life's too short for all we have to do. But he likes play, too. We have a cricket-field at home, and a billiard-table, and bowls--all sorts of games. Father plays at all of them when he's at home and isn't gardening. He calls it oiling his machinery and slackening his bands. Come along, I'll show you the factory, and our workshop, where you and I will have to work, making models, and then we'll oil our machinery."

"Shall we have to make models?" I cried eagerly.

"You will, of course. I'm going to be a lawyer. Father thinks the man who is a good engineer is sure to have to invent, and if so, he ought to be able to take the tools out of his men's hands, and show them how they should be used. Shall you like that? It makes your hands black."

"Oh, I shan't mind that," I said, laughing. "I shall like it."

We went over the office, and then, taking our caps, he showed me the way over Westminster Bridge to the great works in Lambeth, where steam was puffing and panting, wheels whirring, and iron and steel were shrieking as they were being tortured into shape.

It was a confusing place, and, after pa.s.sing the timekeeper's box at the entrance, we seemed to plunge into a kind of Pandemonium, where fires glared, and white-hot ma.s.ses of metal were being dragged out and beaten till they sent sparks of brilliant fire flying in all directions. From there we ascended to a floor where wheels were whirring and great machines were at work, with men tending them, and pouring oil in the wounds made by mighty steam-worked chisels, or bored in pieces of black iron. In one place, shavings of iron were curling off before a plane like so much soft wood; and on touching them I found them rigid, and hot with the friction necessary to tear them away. Next we were in a higher shop, where lathes were at work, and iron, steel, and bra.s.s were being turned like so much ivory. Out of this great floor was a smaller workshop, whose walls were covered with tools; and on shelves around were dozens of strange models, which took my attention strongly as I thought of Hallett's patient work, and longed to begin at something on the spot.

Here, too, there were lathes, vices, and all the necessary paraphernalia for the constructing engineers, and I left the place unwillingly to join young Girtley in his run down the river, where, the right steamer being chosen, we had our ride; the oscillating engines were examined, and we were back and down at Dulwich in good time for dinner and a look round the s.p.a.cious grounds afterwards.

I returned to Caroline Street full of my day's adventures, and ready to tell Mary of my progress towards prosperity, but, to my disappointment, she seemed in nowise dazzled. It was quite a matter of course to her, only a question of time before I should be a great engineer, and in that faith she was a strong believer.

Time glided on, and the half-work, half-play system, upon which I had commenced business at Great George Street had in the course of a month settled into regular hours, but the work did not trouble me, for I led so pleasant a life with Tom Girtley, and found his father so eager and willing a teacher, that I quite enjoyed the toil. There was the one idea, too, always before my mind that some day I should be able to help Hallett, whom I joined nearly every night, to pore over and try to scheme something new for the machine.

I could see that matters were in anything but a happy state at the Halletts'--Mrs Hallett being more complaining and querulous than ever, and, it seemed to me, rather disposed to side with Linny in her rebellion against her brother's authority.

For they were not at one: Linny was pale, excitable, and troubled: Hallett, loving, kind, and firm. But from hints he let drop, I found that Linny was as obstinate as ever, and that she was still carrying on a correspondence with her unknown admirer.

One night, after leaving Great George Street, I made my way to Hallett's, but he was out, and Linny a.s.sured me that he would not be back for hours. She evidently wanted me to go, and the reason was plain--she was busy writing a letter; and as I went away, wondering where to go, I bethought me of Mr Jabez Rowle, who lodged in the neighbourhood, and as it would be his time for being home, I determined to go and see him.

I easily found his lodgings, at a little grocer's shop in a bystreet, where he had the first floor, the front window being turned into quite a garden with flowers, and some scarlet-runners twining up strings on either side.

I heard the familiar snap of his snuff-box as I tapped at the door, and in reply to his "Come in," I entered, to find the old gentleman taking his leisure by poring over a long slip, and, pen in hand, darting in corrections with a grunt of satisfaction.

"Ah, young Grace," he cried, "you here! I thought you were lost. Glad to see you, boy. Here, sit down--no, stand up; catch hold of that bit of ma.n.u.script, and read it to me--only a dozen sides." And to my great astonishment I found myself reading away to him in the old style for quite half-an-hour before he reached the bottom of the slip proofs and laid his pen down with a satisfied grunt and took a pinch of snuff.

"Quite a treat, Grace--quite a treat," he cried. "Sit down. I haven't had a bit of copy read to me like that since you left. Boy I've got's a fool, and I could knock his head against the wall. Shake hands. How are you?"

I replied that I was quite well, and could see that he was.

"No, I'm not," he said tartly. "Much bothered. Money matters?" and he took another pinch of snuff. "So you've called to ask me to say a word for you to come back to the office, eh? Well, I'm glad, boy--I'm glad!

Take it as settled. You can come back to-morrow morning! I will have you, or I'll know the reason why."

I stared at him aghast.

"Oh no, Mr Rowle," I said, "I only came to see you. I thought I should like to. I'm getting on so well."

"Are you, though? Engineering, eh? Well, I'm sorry for it. No, no: I'm glad of it, my lad. I hope you will get on. But I liked you for a reading-boy. You were the only chap I ever had who could stand by me when I took snuff without sneezing all over the slips, and that's a great thing. Have a pinch?" he said, offering me his box. "No, no: of course not, I forgot. Glad you came to see me, Grace--very glad. Here, Mrs Jennings," he cried, going to the door, and shouting down the stairs; "I've got a young friend here: bring up some sugar-candy and biscuits and cinnamon; anything nice you've got."

"I really don't want anything, Mr Jabez," I said.