But Mr. Dainton had a private understanding with the
tidy old woman where Dick's uncle had lodged, and she agreed to find
board and lodging for what he could afford to pay, if he would carry
coal and chop sticks and do errands for her, for a little while every
day, now that she was growing old.
It was a good bargain for both, and Dick faithfully kept his share of
the compact, spending half-an-hour morning and evening in helping her,
while Pat fitted into the little household as if he had belonged there
always. It was the proudest moment of Dick's life when he entered the
great gates of the engine works on Monday morning.
The crowd of men going in at the summons of the hooter was not so large
as on other days. So many of the workmen were keeping Saint Monday
after drinking hard on Saturday and Sunday, and of those who came some
looked sleepy and muddled as if, they, too, had been having too much.
But Dick was not in a critical mood. Everything looked strange and
delightful to the eager boy, and even the dirty work he was ordered to
do seemed pleasant because there were engines everywhere, and mysteries
of cogs and wheels that he would be able to find out, as the days went
by.
The all-pervading smell of oil and grease reminded him of Paddy's
boiler-house, and he resolved to spend his first evening in writing to
him.
Pages:
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62