The Adventures of a Three-Guinea Watch | Page 6

times, and each time with such vigour that I was nearly red-hot under the operation. And no sooner was he tired of polishing me, than he took to paying his hat the same attention, till that wretched article of decoration must have trembled for its nap. Then he would take to whistling and singing (what boy can help doing one or the other in a train?) and as I heard all his little artless songs and gay chirping, I thought it the pleasantest music one could possibly listen to. And, not to let his hands be less busy than his throat, he would bring out the wonderful six-bladed knife his uncle had given him, and exploring all its wonders, and opening all its blades at the same time, together with the corkscrew, the gimlet, the pincers, and the button-hook, at different angles, would terrify the lives out of his fellow-passengers by twirling the awful bristling weapon in his fingers within a foot or so of their faces.
"Mind, dear," said an old lady on the seat opposite, "you'll cut your fingers off, I'm certain."
"Oh, no, I won't," exclaimed he, taking out his handkerchief, and beginning to polish the blades one after another.
The old lady trembled as she watched him, and sighed with relief when the operation was over.
Presently, having nothing particular to do, he stared at her. "Would you like to know the time, ma'am?" he inquired.
"If you please," replied the good old soul.
"Well, it's just seventeen minutes and nineteen seconds past three by my watch. Would you like to see for yourself, ma'am?"
And, pleased to have a confidant of his possessions, he loosed my chain, and flourished me bodily before the eyes of his new friend.
She took me kindly, and said, "What a fine watch you've got, dear?"
"Yes," replied he, with lofty condescension; "like to see his works?"
"You should be careful, you know," she said, "watches so easily get out of order."
"Oh, I won't hurt it," said he, proceeding to take off my coat and waistcoat. "There! there are his works. Don't breathe hard, or you'll damp them."
So the old lady held her breath and peeped in, much to my young master's gratification.
"And so you're going to school, my man?" said she presently.
"Yes; who told you! Did my father tell you?"
"No, I guessed."
"Did you though? Can you guess what the name of the school is?"
"No, I can't do that."
"Have a try."
"Well, then, I guess Randlebury, because my boy is there, and it's the only one I can think of."
The boy stared at her. "How ever did you know that?"
"What!" she exclaimed, "you don't mean to tell me you are going to Randlebury?"
"I am, though."
"Well, I never," cried the good old soul, "who would have believed it! Think of your going to the same school as my Tom."
"Is Tom your boy's name?"
"Yes."
"Is he a nice boy?"
Such a question to ask any one's mother!
The old lady burst into tears instead of answering--a proceeding which greatly alarmed and disconcerted my master.
"Don't cry," he said excitedly. "Look here! I didn't mean--oh, don't! Look here, shall I tell you the time? It's--it's sixteen minutes to four--I didn't mean, you know. Of course he's a nice boy--oh, don't cry!"
And he got into such a state that the old lady dried her eyes at once.
"Never mind me, dear," said she, "it wasn't you made me cry: it was thinking of my Tom. You'll be a good friend to him, won't you, dear?"
"Perhaps he won't like me."
"Now I'm sure he will," exclaimed the lady warmly; so warmly that I quite loved her for my little master's sake. Both were silent for some time, and then Charlie asked,--
"I say, has he got a watch?"
"No."
"Oh, never mind," said he, in a tone of evident relief, "I can tell him the time, you know, whenever he wants to know."
"To be sure you can."
Then Charlie took to polishing me and the chain up again, an occupation which lasted until we arrived at Gunborough Junction, where passengers changed for Randlebury.
"Good-bye, dear," said the old lady, as Charlie proceeded to get together his things.
"Good-bye," said he. "Would you like to know the time before I go? It's eight past five. Good-bye."
"May I give you a kiss?" said she.
Charlie blushed, but offered his cheek hurriedly.
"And you promise to be a good friend to Tom," said she, kissing him, "won't you?"
"All right," said the boy, jumping out on to the platform, and running to see after his luggage.
In a moment however he returned to the window and put his head in.
"I say," said he, "what's his name--Tom what?"
"Drift," said the old lady, "Tom Drift!"
"Oh!" replied my master, "all right, good-bye;" and next minute the train went on, and he was left standing surrounded by his luggage in the middle of the platform, like a lighthouse in