Archies Mistake | Page 5

suspecting there's something wrong about a chap who draws the pay he does, and goes staggering about the streets with his arms full of children's clothes, and his own things looking like a beggar's."
"Do you mean you think the lad drinks, or is dishonest? Speak out, Archie, like a man, and don't throw stones in the dark."
"I don't want to do the fellow any harm," responded Archie, who felt that, in spite of his watching, he knew far too little to speak definitely; "but what I have seen of him I don't like, and that's a fact. I can't help thinking there's something behind. What business has he to be at the mill to-night, when the regular man's away?"
"None at all, of course. Most likely Lingard has gone off on some errand of his own, and paid Bennett to take his place. But it is not regular or right, by any means; I don't like the idea of it at all.... I think I shall go round myself presently, and find out all about it."
By the time Stephen got back from his round it was nearly nine o'clock. He sank into a chair, and leaning his elbows on the table, rested his head in his hands.
"I'm a deal weaker than I was last week," he murmured; "but I must try and last out till father's back. I'll write to him now, and tell him how fast I'm going. If there was any one a bit friendly, I'd tell 'em about it all, and ask 'em to look after the little 'uns if I go quicker; but there isn't. They all seem against me and my rags. I thought Mr. Archie looked so kind at first, but I can see now he thinks worse of me than any."
He got out some sheets of paper he had in his pocket, and pulled the pens and ink on the table towards him.
He did not write very fast, and as he had a good deal to say, he was some time over his letter. About twenty minutes had passed, when the room seemed to get very misty. The pen dropped out of Stephen's hand, and he fell back, with his eyes shut, and his head against the rail of the chair.
He had remained thus, asleep from very weakness, for about an hour, when he was suddenly aroused by a rough voice in his ear.
"Wake up, skulker! your time's come at last."
He opened his eyes, his heart throbbing violently, and there stood the burly form of Simon Bond. He looked bigger than ever in the dimly-lighted room; and as his great grimy face came nearer, and his strong hands grasped Stephen's ear and collar, he felt that his last moment had come, and even sooner than he had expected.
"Get up!" said his enemy, giving him a kick, and dragging him roughly from the chair. "Now," he went on, "I think you refused to answer my questions last time I asked 'em. You'll please to alter your ways from to-night, or you'll get more o' these than you'll quite like."
As he spoke he let go of the lad's collar with his right hand, and brought it swinging down with all his force on the side of Stephen's head.
Instantly the boy dropped like one dead at his feet.
At the same moment the office-door opened, and the appalling sight appeared of Mr. Fairfax's tall form, followed closely by his son Archie.
Not a second did Simon lose. He turned to the door, and was off like a flash of lightning.
Archie made a rush, as though to follow him.
"Cowardly lout!" he cried.
"No; stop, Archie," said his father. "You couldn't catch him; and if you did, you couldn't keep him. We'll examine him to-morrow--we both saw who it was. Now let us look after this poor lad."
"See, father, he was writing a letter," said Archie.
Mr. Fairfax took up the paper. This is what it said:--
"DEAR FATHER,--The little 'uns is all well, and I've got money now to last 'em till you are out, if I'm took before, which I'm that bad and low I can't hardly creep along. I've give Polly the money to use when wanted. She's been a good girl all along. Come to the above address as soon as you are out. I done my best, father, as you told me. And now good-bye, if I'm gone.--Your loving son,
"STEPHEN BENNETT.
"P.S.--I never believed as you did it, father, and I don't now. God will make it right, so don't fret."
The envelope lay by the letter. It was directed to--
Ambrose Bennett, No. 357, Eastwood Jail.
Mr. Fairfax gave them both to his son. "There, Archie," he said; "read these, and see if you still think you were right."
Then he went to Stephen, and did what he could to restore him to