To The West | Page 6

finished our tea.
"I should think not indeed," cried his mother. "Esau, I'm ashamed of you for talking like that. Has he been saying anything about it to you, Master Gordon?"
"Oh, yes, but he don't mean it," I replied. "It's only when he's cross."
"Has master been scolding him then again?"
"Scolding?" cried Esau scornfully, "why he never does nothing else."
"Then you must have given him cause, Esau dear. Master Gordon, what had he done?"
"Mr Dempster caught him asleep."
"Well, I couldn't help it. My head was so heavy."
"Yes," sighed Mrs Dean, "his head always was very heavy, poor boy. He goes to sleep at such strange times too, sir."
"Well, don't tell him that, mother," cried Esau. "You tell everybody."
"Well, dear, there's no harm in it. I never said it was your fault. Lots of times, Master Gordon, I've known him go to sleep when at play, and once I found him quite fast with his mouth full of bread and butter."
"Such stuff!" grumbled Esau, angrily.
"It is quite true, Master Gordon. He always was a drowsy boy."
"Make anybody drowsy to keep on writing lots and figures," grumbled Esau. "Heigho--ha--hum!" he yawned. "I shan't be very long before I go to bed."
He kept his word, and I took a book and sat down by the little fire to read; but though I kept on turning over the pages, I did not follow the text; for I was either thinking about Mrs Dean's needle as it darted in and out of the stuff she was sewing, or else about Mr John Dempster and our meeting that day--of how I had promised to go up and see him on Sunday, and how different he was to his cousin.
The time must have gone fast, for when the clock began to strike, it went on up to ten; and I was thinking it was impossible that it could be so late, when I happened to glance across at little Mrs Dean, whose work had dropped into her lap, and she was as fast asleep then as her son had been at the office hours before.
CHAPTER THREE.
MY NEW FRIENDS.
Poor Esau and I had had a hard time at the office, for it seemed that my patient forbearing way of receiving all the fault-finding made Mr Dempster go home at night to invent unpleasant things to say, till, as I had listened, it had seemed as if my blood boiled, and a hot sensation came into my throat.
All this had greatly increased by the Saturday afternoon, and had set me thinking that there was something in what Esau said, and that I should be better anywhere than where I was.
But on the Sunday afternoon, as I walked up the sunny road to Kentish Town, and turned down a side street of small old-looking houses, each with its bit of garden and flowers, everything looked so bright and pleasant, even there, that my spirits began to rise; and all the more from the fact that at one of the cottage-like places with its porch and flowers, there were three cages outside, two of whose inmates, a lark and a canary, were singing loudly and making the place ring.
It is curious how a musical sound takes one back to the past. In an instant as I walked on, I was seeing the bright river down at home, with the boat gliding along, the roach and dace flashing away to right and left, the chub scurrying from under the willows, the water-weeds and white buttercups brushing against the sides, and the lark singing high overhead in the blue sky.
London and its smoke were gone, and the houses to right and left had no existence for me then, till I was suddenly brought back to the present by a hand being laid on my shoulder, and a familiar voice saying--
"Mr Gordon! Had you forgotten the address? You have passed the house!"
As these words were uttered a hand grasped mine very warmly, and I was looking in the thin, worn, pleasant features of Mr John Dempster, which seemed far brighter than when I saw him at the office.
"Very, very glad to see you, my dear young friend," he cried, taking my arm. "My wife and I have been looking forward to this day; she is very eager to make your acquaintance."
To my surprise he led me back to the little house where the birds were singing, and I could not help glancing at him wonderingly, for I had fully expected to find him living in a state of poverty, whereas everything looked neat and good and plain.
"Give me your hat," he said, as we stood in the passage. "That's right. Now in here. Alexes, my dear, this is my young friend, Mr Gordon."
"I am very glad you have come," said a sweet, musical voice; and my