Our Frank | Page 8

was surprised when, after what
seemed a short time, he found himself at the edge of the wood, and in a
broad high-road; that must be the Wickham Road, and he had still three

miles to walk before reaching the town and the chair factories, where
he meant to ask for work as a first step on his way to London.
It was not a busy-looking road, and the carts and people who passed
now and then seemed to have plenty of time and no wish to hurry; still,
to Frank, who was used to the solitude of Green Highlands and the
deeper quiet of the woods, it felt like getting into the world, and he
looked down at his clothes, and wondered how they would suit a large
town. He wore a smock, high brown leather gaiters reaching almost to
his thighs, and very thick hobnailed boots. He wished he had his
Sunday coat on instead of the smock, but the rest of the things would
do very well, and they were so strong and good that they would last a
long time. So this point settled he trudged on again, till, by twelve
o'clock, he saw Wickham in the distance with its gabled red houses and
tall factory buildings. And now that he was so near, his courage forsook
him a little, and he felt that he was a very small weak boy, and that the
factories were full of bustling work-people who would take no notice of
him. He stood irresolute in the street, wondering to whom he ought to
apply, and presently his eye was attracted to the window of a small
baker's shop near. Through this he saw a kind-looking round-faced
woman, who stood behind the counter knitting. Just in front of her there
was, curled round, a sleek black cat, and she stopped in her work now
and then to scratch its head gently with her knitting-pin. Somehow this
encouraged Frank, and entering he put his question timidly, in his
broad Buckinghamshire accent.
The woman smiled at him good-naturedly.
"From the country, I reckon?" she said, not answering his question.
"Ah," replied Frank, "I be."
"You're a dillicate little feller to be trampin' about alone seekin' work,"
she said, considering him thoughtfully. "Is yer mother livin'?"
"Ah," said Frank again, casting longing eyes at a crisp roll on the
counter.

"Then why don't yer bide at home," asked the woman, "and work
there?"
"I want to get more wage," said Frank, who was feeling hungrier every
minute with the smell of the bread. "I'll be obliged to yer if ye'll tell me
how I could git taken on at the factory."
"You must go and ask at the overseer's office up next street, where you
see a brass plate on the door--name of Green. But bless yer 'art, we've
lads enough and to spare in Wickham; I doubt they won't want a
country boy who knows nought of the trade."
"I can try," said Frank; "and I learn things quick. Schoolmaster said
so."
The woman shook her head.
"You'd be better at home, my little lad," she said, "till you're a bit older.
There's no place like home."
Those same words had been sounding in Frank's ears all night. They
seemed to meet him everywhere, he thought, like a sort of warning.
Nevertheless he was not going to give up his plan, and having learned
the direction of the overseer's office he turned to leave the shop.
"And here's summat to set yer teeth in as you go along," said the
woman, holding out a long roll of bread. "Growing lads should allus be
eatin'."
"Thank you, ma'am," said Frank, and he took off his cap politely, as he
had been taught at school, and went his way.
"As pretty behaved as possible," murmured the woman as she looked
after him, "and off with his hat like a prince. What sort o' folks does he
belong to, I wonder!"
The overseer's office was a small dark room with a high desk in it, at
which sat a sandy-haired red-faced man, with his hat very much on the

back of his head. He was talking in a loud blustering voice to several
workmen, and as Frank entered he heard the last part of the speech.
"So you can tell Smorthwaite and the rest of 'em that they can come on
again on the old terms, but they'll not get a farthing more. Well, boy,"
as he noticed Frank standing humbly in the background, "what do you
want?"
Mr Green's manner was that of an incensed and much-tried man, and
Frank felt quite afraid to speak.
"Please, sir," he said, "do you want a boy in the factory?"
"Do I want a boy!" repeated the overseer, addressing the ceiling