And maybe we could help one another there, for
something tells me he'll still need a friend."
And truly Dick had not been long in the cleaning shed before his trials
began. The man who had offered him beer on his first day was Jem
Whatman's father, and Dick's quiet refusal had angered him greatly, and
his threat to make him know better had not been an idle one.
"We'll have no Band-of-Hopers amongst us jokers, eh mates?" he said
with rough wit, a few days afterwards.
"So look here, young 'un, the boss is out of the way, and you take this
shilling and nip across to the 'Jolly Founders' and fetch half-a-gallon
of fivepenny in this jar. We'll soon see where your teetotalling will
be." The other workers in the shed applauded loudly at the prospect of
a drink and some fun into the bargain.
But Dick had spent a very serious quarter of an hour on his first day
in reading the Rules posted up conspicuously in every workshop, and one
of them said, "No intoxicating drinks must be fetched during working
hours."
So he looked up bravely and said, "I can't do that, for it would be
breaking the rules to fetch beer. Besides, I can't go inside a
public-house, at any time.
"Rules be hanged!" said Whatman fiercely. "You are here to do as
you're told and not to cheek your betters.
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