The Adventures of a Three-Guinea Watch

  CHAPTER FOUR.

  HOW I WAS CURED OF MY AILMENTS, AND HOW MY MASTER BEGAN LIFE ATRANDLEBURY.

  All this while Tom Drift had said nothing, but had stood regarding firstmy master, and then me, with mingled amusement, pity, and astonishment.At last, when poor Charlie fairly thrust me into his hands, that hemight see with his own eyes the calamity which had befallen the watchthat had been destined to minister such consolation to his time-inquiring mind, he took me gingerly, and stared at me as if I had been atoad or a dead rat.

  "Can't you make it go, Tom Drift? Please do."

  "How can I make him go? I don't know what's the row."

  "Do you think it would be a good thing to wind it up?" asked Charlie.

  "Don't know; you might try."

  Charlie did wind me up; but that was not what I wanted. Already I hadhad that done while waiting at Gunborough Junction.

  "What do you say to shaking him?" asked Tom Drift presently. Mostpeople spoke of me as "it," but Tom Drift always called me "him."

  "I hardly like," said Charlie; "_you_ try."

  Tom took me and solemnly shook me; it was no use. I still remainedspeechless and helpless.

  "Suppose we shove his wheels on?" next suggested that sage philosopher.

  Charlie demurred a little at this; it seemed almost too bold a remedy,even for him; however he yielded to Tom's superior judgment.

  The heir of the house of Drift accordingly took a pin from the lining ofhis jacket, and, taking off my coat and waistcoat, proceeded first toprod one of my wheels and then another, but in vain. They just movedfor an instant but then halted again, as stiff end lifeless as ever.

  For a moment the profound Tom seemed baffled, and then at last abrilliant idea occurred to him.

  "I tell you what, I expect he's got damp, or cold, or something. We'dbetter warm him!"

  And the two boys knelt before the fire with me between them, turning meat the end of my chain so as to get the warmth on all sides, like a legof mutton on a spit.

  Of course that had no effect. What was to be done? No winding up, noshaking, no irritation of my wheels with a pin, no warming of me at thefire, could avail anything. They were ready to give me up. Suddenly,however, Tom, who had been examining my face minutely, burst into a loudlaugh.

  "What a young donkey you are!" he cried. "Don't you see his hands arecaught? That's what's the matter. The minute-hand's got bent, andcan't get over the hour hand. You're a nice chap to have a watch!"

  It might have occurred to Charlie (as it did to me) that whatever sortof watch-owner the former might be, a boy who successively shook,tickled, and roasted me to get me to go, was hardly the one to lecturehim on his failings; but my master was too delighted at the prospect ofhaving his treasure cured to be very critical of the physician. Andthis time, at last, Tom Drift had found the real cause of myindisposition. In endeavouring to pass one another at half-past six, mytwo hands had become entangled, and refusing to proceed in company, hadstopped where they were stopping my circulation and indeed my animationat the same time.

  Once more the astute Tom produced his pin; and sticking it under the endof my minute-hand, disengaged it from its fellow and bent it back intoits proper position. Instantly, as if by magic, the life rushed backinto my body; my circulation started afresh, and my heart beat its oldbeat. Charlie set up a shout of jubilation, and almost hugged Tom inhis gratitude. The latter looked very wise and very condescending--ashad he not a right?--and, handing me back to my master, said, with theair of a physician prescribing a course of treatment for a convalescentpatient,--

  "You'd better shove him on to the right time, and then keep him quiet,young un."

  This Charlie did, and it would be hard to say which of us two was thehappier at that moment.

  I had scarcely been deposited once more into my accustomed pocket, whena loud bell sounded down the corridors, and made Tom Drift jump as if hehad been shot.

  "I say, that's the prayer-bell! Come on! unless you want to get into ajolly row."

  And without further words he seized the astonished Charlie by the arm,and ran with him at full speed along one or two empty passages, dashingat last in through a big door, which was in the very act of closing asthe two reached it.

  Charlie was so confused, and so out of breath with this astonishing andfrantic race, that for a minute he did not know whether he was standingon his head or his heels.

  There was, however, no time for solving the problem just then, for TomDrift, still retaining his grasp on his arm, dragged him forward,whispering,--

  "This way; wasn't that a close shave? Get in here, and don't make anoise."

  Charlie obeyed, and found himself in a pew, one of a congregation ofsome two hundred boys, assembled in the school chapel for eveningprayers. At the far end of the chapel he could hear a man's voice,reading; but what it said it was impossible for him to make out, owingto the talking that was going on around him.

  He looked eagerly and curiously down the long rows of his newschoolfellows, feeling half afraid at the sight of so many new faces,and half proud of being a Randlebury boy, with a right to a seat in thechapel. And as he looked he saw some faces he thought he should like,and some that he thought he would dislike; there were merry, bright-eyedboys, like himself, and there were ill-tempered, sullen-looking boys;there were boys haggard with hard-reading, and boys who looked as iftheir heads were altogether empty.

  But what puzzled and troubled Charlie not a little was to notice, thatthough the school was supposed to be at prayers, and though most of themmust have been within hearing of the reader's voice, a considerableproportion of the boys before him were neither listening nor evincing intheir behaviour the slightest sign of reverence for the service in whichthey were engaged.

  He was sorry to see that Tom Drift was laughing and whispering with hiscompanions; entertaining them with an account of the way in which he hadset the new "young un's" watch to rights, and what a shave they had frombeing shut out from prayers. (Charlie wondered, as he noticed all this,whether, after all, he would have lost much good if that misfortune hadhappened.) And one or two boys were chewing toffee; at least, Charliethought it must be toffee, their mouths were so brown, and they madesuch a noise over the process of mastication; some, with their hands intheir pockets, were listlessly staring up at the roof; and some werereading books, anything but prayer-books, under the desk.

  Charlie did his best to attend to what the invisible and inarticulatevoice was saying, and tried to recall what his father had told him aboutnot letting new scenes and new companions tempt him to forget of neglectthe lessons of duty and religion which he had learned at his parents'home; but it was not easy work, and to him it was a relief when all wasover, and the boys proceeded to file out of the chapel.

  "Where are they all going?" he inquired, turning round to where TomDrift had been standing.

  That young man, however, was no longer there. He had gone off to enjoythe questionable luxury of roast potatoes in a friend's study, entirelyforgetting his young and forlorn charge.

  Charlie was puzzled. He was sure he could never find his way back toMrs Packer's through such a maze of passages, and he knew not whereelse to go.

  As he stood watching in despair the last remnant of his fellow-worshippers passing out, and wondering what was to become of him, hebecame aware of two big boys stopping in front of him and looking athim.

  "That's him!" said one, whose grammar was perhaps not his strongestpoint at this moment.

  "Why, he's only a kid!" said the other, who, being sixteen, felt fullyjustified in so designating my young master.

  "I can't help that, I know it's him," said the first.

  "I say, you fellow," added he, addressing Charlie, "wasn't it you droveup to the front door in a cab this afternoon?"

  Charlie trembled in his shoes. More than once had his heart misgivenhim, he had committed an unpardonable offence in the mode of his adventto Randlebury; and now, with these two awful accu
sers before him, hefelt as if his doom was come.

  "I'm very sorry," he began; "yes, it was--I didn't mean, I'm sure."

  "What did you do it for, if you didn't mean, you young muff?--why don'tyou go off to bed?"

  "Because I don't know where to go, and Tom Drift--"

  "Do you know Tom Drift?"

  "Yes--that is, I met his mother," stammered Charlie, becoming more andmore embarrassed.

  Both the big boys burst out laughing. "What a treat for his mother!"said one. "I suppose she told you Tom was a real nice boy?"

  "Yes."

  "I thought so; so he is, isn't he, Joe?" and both boys laughed again.

  "And she gave you a kiss to take to him?"

  "No," said Charlie, blushing scarlet; "she did give me a kiss, but notfor him."

  It was a hard effort for the poor boy to come out with this admission,but candour compelled it.

  "Oh, she gave you one for yourself, did she?" and again they laughed."What a dear old noodle she must be!"

  "She was very kind to me," said Charlie, not liking to hear his friendmade fun of.

  Just then a master came by.

  "What are you three boys doing here?" he asked.

  "Please, sir, this is a new boy," replied he who had been called Joe,"and he doesn't know where to go."

  "Hum!" said the master, "I thought Mrs Packer would have seen afterthat. Let me see. You had better take him to your dormitory to-night,Halliday; there's a vacant bed there. Bring him to the doctor's roomafter breakfast to-morrow," and he passed on.

  "Here's a treat!" exclaimed Joe, with a not ill-natured grin. "Thiscomes of stopping and talking to young scarecrows. Come along,youngster; think yourself lucky you've been handed over to me. I wearpatent leather boots, and they don't need as much blacking as some ofthe fellows'."

  Charlie was at a loss to understand what the material of MasterHalliday's boots had to do with his own alleged good fortune in fallinginto the hands of such a guardian; but he said nothing, and, reassuredby the good-humoured face of his conductor, followed him cheerfully fromthe chapel.

  "Hullo, Joe! got a donkey at last?" cried some one, as the two wendedtheir way up the stairs leading to the dormitories.

  "Looks like it," was Joe's reply.

  It was not very long before Charlie learned that the four-footed beastthus vaguely referred to was a polite term which the big boys atRandlebury used to designate their fags.

  "Come in here," said his conductor, turning in at a small door.

  Charlie found himself inside a small apartment, measuring about ten feetsquare, lighted by a small window, warmed by a small fire, decoratedwith a small bookcase, and furnished with a small table, two smallchairs, and a small cupboard.

  "This is my den; and mind when you clean the window you don't crack thatpane more than it is; and when you brush my things, you know, see theshelf isn't dirty, because I sometimes keep my worms there--do you hear?And now come along to bed; they put out lights at half-past nine."

  The mention of the time recalled me instinctively to Charlie's thoughts.He could not resist the temptation, suggested half by anxiety and halfby vanity, of taking me out and looking at me.

  "Hullo! What, have you got a watch?"

  "Yes," said Charlie meekly, not exactly knowing whether his companionwould be admiring or indignant with him.

  "More than I have," was all Joe's rejoinder.

  Charlie's generosity was at once touched.

  "Oh, never mind, we can go shares sometimes, if you like, you know,"said he, not without an effort.

  "I don't want your watch," was Master Halliday's somewhat ungraciousreply. "Let's have a look at it, will you?"

  He took me, and examined me; and evidently would not have objected to bethe possessor of a watch himself, though he tried to make it appear itwas a matter of indifference to him.

  "Why don't you get your father to give you one?" asked Charlieinnocently.

  "Because I haven't got a father."

  "Not got a father! Oh, I am sorry!" and the starting tears in thelittle fellow's eyes testified only too truly to his sincerity. "Lookhere," he added, "do take the watch, please; perhaps you would like it,and my father would give me another."

  Joe Halliday gazed at his young fag in amazement.

  "Why, you are a queer chap," he said. "I wouldn't take your watch foranything; but I tell you what, I'll ask you the time whenever I want toknow."

  "Will you really?" cried the delighted Charlie. "How jolly!"

  "And look here," continued Halliday, "take my advice, and don't gooffering your watch to everybody who hasn't got a father, or some ofthem might take you at your word, and then you'd look foolish. Comealong now."

  And he led the boy into the dormitory, where there were about twentybeds, most of them already occupied by boys, and the rest waiting foroccupants, who were rapidly undressing in different parts of the room.

  "Look sharp and tumble in," said Joe, pointing out the bed Charlie wasto have. "There's only five minutes more."

  Charlie, with all the naturalness of innocence, knelt, as he was alwaysused to do, and said his prayers, adding a special petition for his dearabsent parents, and another for the poor boy who hadn't got a father.

  He was wholly unaware of the curiosity he had excited by his entranceinto the dormitory, still less did he imagine the sensation which hissimple act of devotion was creating. Twenty pairs of eyes stared at theunwonted spectacle of a boy saying his prayers, and many were thewhispered comments which passed from lip to lip. No one however (hadany been so inclined) stirred either to disturb or molest him--animmunity secured to him as much perhaps by the fact of his being underthe protection of so redoubtable a champion as Halliday as by anyspecial feeling of sympathy for his act.

  The good example was not, however, wholly lost, for that same night,after the lights were out, and when silence reigned in the room, morethan one boy covered his head with his sheet and tried to recall one ofthe early prayers of his childhood.

  As for Charlie, with me and the knife under his pillow, he slept thesleep of the just, and dreamt of home; and I can answer for it his wearyhead never turned once the livelong night.