Sturdy and Strong: or, How George Andrews Made His Way. Henty George Alfred
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did not wait to see, Bill. Directly I had given the little girl her locket I bolted."
"Well, that were soft. Why couldn't yer have waited to have seen what the bloke meant to give yer?"
"I did not want to be paid for such a thing as that," George replied. "I don't mind being paid when I have done a job for anyone; but this was different altogether."
Bill meditated for a minute or two.
"I can't see no difference, nohow," he said at last. "Yer did him a good turn, and got the thing back. I dare say it were worth five bob."
"A good deal more than that, Bill."
"More nor that! Well, then, he ought to have come down handsome. Didn't yer run like winking, and didn't yer jump on the chap's back and knock him down, and didn't yer run back again? And warn't there a chance, ef one of the bobbies had got hold of yer collar and found it in yer hand, of yer being had up for stealing it? And then yer walks off and don't give him a chance of giving yer nuffin. My eye, but yer are a flat!"
"I don't suppose you will quite understand, Bill. But when people do a thing to oblige somebody, and not as a piece of regular work, they don't expect to be paid. I shouldn't have liked it if they had offered me money for such a thing."
"Well, ef yer says so, no doubt it's right," Bill rejoined; "but it seems a rum sort of notion to me. When people loses things they expects to pay to get 'em back. Why, don't yer see outside the p'lice station, and in the shop winders, papers offering so much for giving back things as is lost. I can't read 'em myself, yer know; but chaps have read 'em to me. Why, I've heerd of as much as five quid being offered for watches and sichlike as was lost by ladies coming out of theayters, and I have often thought what a turn of luck it would be to light on one of 'em. And now yer says as I oughtn't to take the money ef I found it."
"No, I don't say that, Bill. If you found a thing and saw a reward offered, and you wanted the money, you would have good right to take it. But, you see, in this case I saw how sorry the girl was at losing her locket, and I went after it to please her, and I was quite content that I got it back for her."
Bill tried again to think the matter over in his mind, but he was getting warm and sleepy, and in a few minutes was sound off.
Two or three days later the lads had, to their great satisfaction, obtained a job. Walnuts were just coming in, and the boys were engaged to take off the green shucks. Bill was particularly pleased, for he had never before been taken on for such a job, and he considered it a sort of promotion. Five or six women were also employed, and as the group were standing round some great baskets Bill suddenly nudged his friend:
"I say, my eye, aint that little gal pretty?"
George looked up from his work and at once recognized the girl to whom he had restored the locket. Her eye fell on him at the same moment.
"There, papa!" she exclaimed. "I told you if you brought me down to the market I felt sure I should know the boy again if I saw him. That's him, the one looking down into the basket. But he knew me again, for I saw him look surprised when he noticed me."
The gentleman made his way through the women to George.
"My lad, are you the boy who restored the locket to my daughter three evenings ago?"
"Yes, sir," George said, coloring as he looked up. "I was standing close by when the boy took it, so I gave chase and brought it back, and that's all."
"You were off again in such a hurry that we hadn't time to thank you. Just come across to my daughter. I suppose you can leave your work for a minute?"
"Yes, sir. We are working by the job," George said, and looking rather shamefaced he followed the gentleman to the sidewalk.
"This is your boy, as you call him, Nellie."
"I was sure I should know him again," the child said, "though I only saw him for a moment. We are very much obliged to you, boy, papa and me, because it had been mamma's locket, and we should have been very sorry to have lost it."
"I am glad I was able to get it back for you," George said; "but I don't want to be thanked for doing it; and I don't want to be paid either, thank you, sir," he said, flushing as the gentleman put his hand into his pocket.
"No! and why not?" the gentleman said in surprise. "You have done me a great service, and there is no reason why I should not pay you for it. If I had lost it I would gladly have paid a reward to get it back."
"Thank you, sir," George said quietly; "but all the same I would rather not be paid for a little thing like that."
"You are a strange fellow," the gentleman said again. "One does not expect to find a boy in the market here refusing money when he has earned it."
"I should not refuse it if I had earned it," George said; "but I don't call getting back a locket for a young lady who has lost it earning money."
"How do you live, lad? You don't speak like a boy who has been brought up in the market here."
"I have only been here three months," George said. "I came up to London to look for work, but could not get any. Most days I go about looking for it, and do what odd jobs I can get when there's a chance."
"What sort of work do you want? Have you been accustomed to any work? Perhaps I could help you."
"I have been a year as an errand-boy," George answered; "but I didn't like it, and I thought I would rather get some sort of work that I could work at when I got to be a man instead of sticking in a shop."
"Did you run away from home, then?" the gentleman asked.
"No, sir. My mother was ill and went into an infirmary, and so as I was alone I thought I would come to London and try to get the sort of work I liked; but I have tried almost all over London."
"And are you all alone here?"
"No, sir, not quite alone. I found a friend in that boy there, and we have worked together since I came up."
"Well, lad, if you really want work I can give it you."
"Oh, thank you, sir!" George exclaimed fervently.
"And your friend too, if he likes. I have some works down at Limehouse and employ a good many boys. Here is the address;" and he took a card from his pocket, wrote a few words on the back of it, and handed it to George.
"Ask for the foreman, and give him that, and he will arrange for you to begin work on Monday. Come along, Nellie; we have got to buy the fruit for to-morrow, you know."
So saying he took his daughter's hand, and George, wild with delight, ran off to tell Bill that he had obtained work for them both.
"Well, Nellie, are you satisfied?"
"Yes, I am glad you could give him work, papa; didn't he look pleased? Wasn't it funny his saying he wouldn't have any money?"
"Yes; I hardly expected to have met with a refusal in Covent Garden; but you were right, child, and you are a better judge of character than I gave you credit for. You said he was a nice-looking lad, and spoke like a gentleman, and he does. He is really a very good style of boy. Of course he is shabby and dirty now, and you see he has been an errand-boy at a grocer's; but he must have been better brought up than the generality of such lads. The one he called his friend looked a wild sort of specimen, altogether a different sort of boy. I should say he was one of the regular arabs hanging about this place. If so, I expect a very few days' work will sicken him; but I shouldn't be surprised if your boy, as you call him, sticks to it."
The next morning the two boys presented themselves at Mr. Penrose's works at Limehouse. These were sawing and planing works, and the sound of many wheels, and the hoarse rasping sound of saws innumerable, came out through the open windows of the building as they entered the yard.
"Now what do you boys want?" a workman said as he appeared at one of the doors.
"We want to see the foreman," George said. "I have a card for him from Mr. Penrose."
"I will let him know," the man replied.
Two minutes later the foreman came out, and George handed him the card. He read what Mr. Penrose had written