The next morning George went out with the bundle containing his Sunday clothes, which had been untouched since his arrival in town, and going to an old-clothes shop he exchanged them for a suit of working clothes in fair condition, and then returning hid his bundle in the hay and rejoined Bill, who had from early morning been at work shelling walnuts. Although Bill was somewhat surprised at his companion not beginning work at the usual time he asked no questions, for his faith in George was so unbounded that everything he did was right in his eyes.  
"There is our last day's work in the market, Bill," George said as they reached their loft that evening.
 
"It's your last day's work, George, I aint no doubt; but I expects it aint mine by a long way. I have been a-thinking over this 'ere go, and I don't think as it will act nohow. In the first place I aint fit to go to such a place, and they are sure to make it hot for me."
 
"That's nonsense, Bill; there are lots of roughish sort of boys in works of that sort, and you will soon be at home with the rest."[Pg 49]
 
"In the next place," Bill went on, unheeding the interruption, "I shall be getting into some blooming row or other afore I have been there a week, and they will like enough turn you out as well as me. That's what I am a-thinking most on, George. If they chucks me the chances are as they chucks you too; and if they did that arter all the pains you have had to get a place I should go straight off and make a hole in the water. That's how I looks at it."
 
"But I don't think, Bill, that there's any chance of your getting into a row. Of course at first we must both expect to be blown up sometimes, but if we do our best and don't answer back again we shall do as well as the others."
 
"Oh, I shouldn't cheek 'em back," Bill said. "I am pretty well used to getting blown up. Every one's always at it, and I know well enough as it don't pay to cheek back, not unless you have got a market-cart between you and a clear road for a bolt. I wasn't born yesterday. Yer've been wery good to me, you have, George, and before any harm should come to yer through me, s'help me, I'd chuck myself under a market-wagon."
 
"I know you would, Bill; but, whatever you say, you have been a far greater help to me than I have to you. Anyhow we are not going to part now. You are coming to work with me to start with, and I know you will do your best to keep your place. If you fail, well, so much the worse, it can't be helped; but after our being sent there by Mr. Pen[Pg 50]rose I feel quite sure that the foreman would not turn me off even if he had to get rid of you."
 
"D'yer think so?"
 
"I do, indeed, Bill."
 
"Will yer take yer davey?"
 
"Yes, if it's any satisfaction to you, Bill, I will take my davey that I do not think that they would turn me off even if they sent you away."
 
"And yer really wants me to go with yer, so help yer?"
 
"Really and truly, Bill."
 
"Wery well, George, then I goes; but mind yer, it's 'cause yer wishes me."
 
So saying, Bill curled himself up in the hay, and George soon heard by his regular breathing that he was sound asleep.
 
The next morning, before anyone was stirring, they went down into the yard, as was their custom on Sunday mornings, for a good wash, stripping to the waist and taking it by turns to pump over each other. Bill had at first protested against the fashion, saying as he did very well and did not see no use in it; but seeing that George really enjoyed it he followed his example. After a morning or two, indeed, and with the aid of a piece of soap which George had bought, Bill got himself so bright and shiny as to excite much sarcastic comment and remark from his former companions, which led to more than one pugilistic encounter.
 
That morning George remained behind in the loft[Pg 51] for a minute or two after Bill had run down, attired only in his trousers. When Bill went up the ladder after his ablutions he began hunting about in the hay.
 
"What are you up to, Bill?"
 
"Blest if I can find my shirt. Here's two of yourn knocking about, but I can't see where's mine, nor my jacket neither."
 
"It's no use your looking, Bill, for you won't find them, and even if you found them you couldn't put 'em on. I have torn them up."
 
"Torn up my jacket!" Bill exclaimed in consternation. "What lark are yer up to now, George?"
 
"No lark at all. We are going together to work to-morrow, and you could not go as you were; so you put on that shirt and those things," and he threw over the clothes he had procured the day before.
 
Bill looked in astonishment.
 
"Why, where did yer get 'em, George? I knows yer only had four bob with what we got yesterday. Yer didn't find 'em, and yer didn't—no, in course yer didn't—nip 'em."
 
"No, I didn't steal them certainly," George said, laughing. "I swapped my Sunday clothes for them yesterday. I can do without them very well till we earn enough to get another suit. There, don't say anything about it, Bill, else I will punch your head."
 
Bill stared at him with open eyes for a minute,[Pg 52] and then threw himself down in the hay and burst into tears.
 
"Oh, I say, don't do that!" George exclaimed. "What have you to cry about?"
 
"Aint it enough to make a cove cry," Bill sobbed, "to find a chap doing things for him like that? I wish I may die if I don't feel as if I should bust. It's too much, that's what it is, and it's all on one side; that's the wust of it."
 
"I dare say you will make it even some time, Bill; so don't let's say anything more about it, but put on your clothes. We will have a cup of coffee each and a loaf between us for breakfast, and then we will go for a walk into the park, the same as we did last Sunday, and hear the preaching."
 
The next morning they were up at their accustomed hour and arrived at the works at Limehouse before the doors were opened. Presently some men and boys arrived, the doors were opened, and the two boys followed the others in.
 
"Hallo! who are you?" the man at the gate asked.
 
George gave their names, and the man looked at his time-book.
 
"Yes, it's all right; you are the new boys. You are to go into that planing-shop," and he pointed to one of the doors opening into the yard.
 
The boys were not long before they were at work. Bill was ordered to take planks from a large pile and to hand them to a man, who passed them under[Pg 53] one of the planing-machines. George was told to take them away as fast as they were finished and pile them against a wall. When the machines stopped for any adjustment or alteration both were to sweep up the shavings and ram them into bags, in which they were carried to the engine-house.
 
For a time the boys were almost dazzled by the whirl of the machinery, the rapid motion of the numerous wheels and shafting overhead, and of the broad bands which carried the power from them to the machinery on the floor, by the storm of shavings which flew from the cutters, and the unceasing activity which prevailed around them. Beyond receiving an occasional order, shouted in a loud tone—for conversation in an ordinary voice would have been inaudible—nothing occurred till the bell rang at half-past eight for breakfast. Then the machinery suddenly stopped, and a strange hush succeeded the din which had prevailed.
 
"How long have we got now?" George asked the man from whose bench he had been taking the planks.
 
"Half an hour," the man said as he hurried away.
 
"Well, what do you think of it, Bill?" George asked when they had got outside.
 
"Didn't think as there could be such a row," Bill replied. "Why, talk about the Garden! Lor', why it aint nothing to it. I hardly knew what I was a-doing at first."[Pg 54]
 
"No more did I, Bill. You must mind what you do and not touch any of those straps and wheels and things. I know when I was at Croydon there was a man killed in a sawmill there by being caught in the strap; they said it drew him up and smashed him against the ceiling. And now we had better look out for a baker's."
 
"I suppose there aint a coffee-stall nowhere handy?"
 
"I don't suppose there is, Bill; at any rate we have no time to spare to look for one. There's a pump in the yard, so we can have a drink of water as we come back. Well, the work doesn't seem very hard, Bill," George said as they ate their bread.
 
"No, it aint hard," Bill admitted, "if it weren't for all them rattling wheels. But I expect it aint going to be like that regular. They've just gived us an easy job to begin with. Yer'll see it will be worse presently."
 
"We shall soon get accustomed to the noise, Bill, and I don't think we shall find the work any harder. They don't put boys at hard work, but just jobs like we are doing, to help the men."
 
"What shall we do about night, George?"
 
"I think that at dinner-time we had better ask the man we work for. He looks a good-natured sort of chap. He may know of someone he could recommend us to."
 
They worked steadily till dinner-time; then as[Pg 55] they came out George said to the man with whom they were working:
 
"We want to get a room. We have been lodging together in London, and don't know anyone down here. I thought perhaps you could tell us of some quiet, respectable people who have a room to let?"
 
The man looked at George more closely than he had hitherto done.
 
"Well, there aint many people as would care about taking in two boys, but you seem a well-spoken young chap and different to most of 'em. Do you think you could keep regular hours, and not come clattering in and out fifty times in the evening, and playing tom-fools' tricks of all sorts?"
 
"I don't think we should be troublesome," George said; "and I am quite sure we shouldn't be noisy."
 
"You would want to be cooked for, in course?"
 
"No, I don't think so," George said. "Beyond hot water for a cup of tea in the evening, we should not want much cooking done, especially if there is a coffee-stall anywhere where we could get a cup in the morning."
 
"You haven't got any traps, I suppose?"
 
George looked puzzled.
 
"I mean bed and chairs, and so on."
 
George shook his head.
 
"We might get them afterwards, but we haven't any now."[Pg 56]
 
"Well, I don't mind trying you young fellows. I have got a bedroom in my place empty. A brother of mine who lodged and worked with me has just got a job as foreman down in the country. At any rate I will try you for a week, and if at the end of that time you and my missis don't get on together you must shift. Two bob a week. I suppose that will about suit you?"
 
George said that would suit very well, and expressed his thanks to the man for taking them in.
 
They had been walking briskly since they left the works, and now stopped suddenly before the door of a house in a row. It was just like its neighbor, except that George noticed that the blinds and windows were cleaner than the others, and that the door had been newly painted and varnished.
 
"Here we are," the man said. "You had best come in and see the missis and the room. Missis!" he shouted, and a woman appeared from the backroom. "I have let Harry's room, mother," he said, "and these are the new lodgers."
 
"My stars, John!" she exclaimed; "you don't mean to say that you let the room to them two boys. I should have thought you had better sense. Why, they will be trampling up and down the stairs like young hosses, wear out the oil cloth, and frighten the baby into fits. I never did hear such a thing!"
 
"I think they are quiet boys, Bessie, and won't give much trouble. At any rate I have agreed to[Pg 57] try them for a week, and if you don't get on with them at the end of that time, of course they must go. They have only come to work at the shop to-day; they work with me, and as far as I can see they are quiet young chaps enough. Come along, lads, I will show you your room."
 
It was halfway up the stairs, at the back of the house, over the kitchen, which was built out there. It was a comfortable little room, not large, but sufficiently so for two boys. There was a bed, a chest of drawers, two chairs, and a dressing-table, and a strip of carpet ran alongside the bed, and there was, moreover, a small fireplace.
 
"Will that do for you?" the man asked.
 
"Capitally," George said; "it could not be nicer;" while Bill was so taken aback by its comfort and luxury that he was speechless.
 
"Well, that's settled, then," the man said. "If you have got any things you can bring 'em in when you like."
 
"We have not got any to speak of," George said, flushing a little. "I came up from the country three months ago to look for work, and beyond odd jobs I have had nothing to do since, so that everything I had is pretty well gone; but I can pay a week's rent in advance," he said, putting his hand in his pocket.
 
"Oh, you needn't mind that!" the man said; "as you work in the shop it's safe enough. Now I must get my dinner, else I shall be late for work."[Pg 58]
 
"Well, Bill, what do you think of that?" George asked as they left the house.
 
"My eye," Bill exclaimed in admiration; "aint it nice just! Why, yer couldn't get a room like that, not furnished, anywhere near the market, not at four bob a week. Aint it clean just; so help me if the house don't look as if it has been scrubbed down every day! What a woman that must be for washing!"
 
"Yes; we shall have to rub our feet well, Bill, and make as little mess as we can in going in and out."
 
"I should think so," Bill said. "It don't seem to me as if it could be true as we're to have such a room as that to ourselves, and to walk into a house bold without being afraid as somebody would have his eye on you, and chivey you; and eight bob a week for grub regular."
 
"Well, let's get some bread and cheese, Bill; pretty near half our time must be gone, and mind we must be very saving at first. There will be several things to get; a kettle and a teapot, and a coffeepot, and some cups and saucers, and we shall want a gridiron for frying rashers of bacon upon."
 
"My eye, won't it be prime!" Bill broke in.
 
"And we shall want some towels," George went on with his enumeration.
 
"Towels!" repeated Bill. "What are they like?"
 
"They are cloths for wiping your hands and face after you have washed."[Pg 59]
 
"Well, if yer says we wants 'em, George, of course we must get 'em; but I've always found my hands dried quick enough by themselves, especially if I gived 'em a rub on my trousers."
 
"And then, Bill, you know," George went on, "I want to save every penny we can, so as to get some things to furnish two rooms by the time mother comes out."
 
"Yes, in course we must," Bill agreed warmly, though a slight shade passed over his face at the thought that they were not to be always alone together. "Well, yer know, George, I am game for anythink. I can hold on with a penn'orth of bread a day. I have done it over and over, and if yer says the word I am ready to do it again."
 
"No, Bill, we needn't do that," George laughed. "Still, we must live as cheap as we can. We will stick to bread for breakfast, and bread and cheese for dinner, and bread for supper, with sometimes a rasher as a great treat. At any rate we will try to live on six shillings a week."
 
"Oh! we can do that fine," Bill said confidently; "and then two shillings for rent, and that will leave us eight shillings a week to put by."
 
"Mother said that the doctor didn't think she would be able to come out 'til the spring. We are just at the beginning of November, so if she comes out the first of April, that's five months, say twenty-two weeks. Twenty-two weeks at eight shillings, let me see. That's eight pounds in twenty weeks,[Pg 60] eight pounds sixteen altogether, that would furnish two rooms very well, I should think."
 
"My eye, I should think so!" Bill exclaimed, for to his mind eight pound sixteen was an almost unheard-of sum, and the fact that his companion had been able to calculate it increased if possible his admiration for him.
 
It needed but two or three days to reconcile Mrs. Grimstone to her new lodgers.
 
"I wouldn't have believed," she said at the end of the week to a neighbor, "as two boys could have been that quiet. They comes in after work as regular as the master. They rubs their feet on the mat, and you can scarce hear 'em go upstairs, and I don't hear no more of 'em till they goes out agin in the morning. They don't come back here to breakfast or dinner. Eats it, I suppose, standing like."
 
"But what do they do with themselves all the evening, Mrs. Grimstone?"
 
"One of 'em reads to the other. I think I can hear a voice going regular over the kitchen."
 
"And how's their room?"
 
"As clean and tidy as a new pin. They don't lock the door when they goes out, and I looked in yesterday, expecting to find it like a pigsty; but they had made the bed afore starting for work, and set everything in its place, and laid the fire like for when they come back."
 
Mrs. Grimstone was right. George had expended[Pg 61] six pence in as many old books at a bookstall. One of them was a spelling-book, and he had at once set to work teaching Bill his letters. Bill had at first protested. "He had done very well without reading, and didn't see much good in it." However, as George insisted he gave way, as he would have done to any proposition whatever upon which his friend had set his mind. So for an hour every evening after they had finished tea Bill worked at his letters and spelling, and then George read aloud to him from one of the other books.
 
"You must get on as fast as you can this winter, Bill," he said; "because when the summer evenings come we shall want to go for long walks."
 
They found that they did very well upon the sum they agreed on. Tea and sugar cost less than George had expected. Mrs. Grimstone took in for them regularly a halfpenny-worth of milk, and for tea they were generally able to afford a bloater between them, or a very thin rasher of bacon. Their enjoyment of their meals was immense. Bill indeed frequently protested that they were spending too much money; but George said as long as they kept within the sum agreed upon, and paid their rent, coal, candles, and what little washing they required out of the eight shillings a week, they were doing very well.
 
They had by this time got accustomed to the din of the machinery, and were able to work in comfort. Mr. Penrose had several times come through the[Pg 62] room, and had given them a nod. After they had been there a month he spoke to Grimstone.
 
"How do those boys do their work?"
 
"Wonderful well, sir; they are the two best boys we have ever had. No skylarking about, and I never have to wait a minute for a plank. They generally comes in a few minutes before time and gets the bench cleared up. They are first-rate boys. They lodge with me, and two quieter and better-behaved chaps in a house there never was."
 
"I am glad to hear it," Mr. Penrose said. "I am interested in them, and am pleased to hear so good an account."
 
That Saturday, to their surprise, when they went to get their money they received ten shillings apiece.
 
"That's two shillings too much," George said as the money was handed to them.
 
"That's all right," the foreman said. "The governor ordered you both to have a rise."
 
"My eye!" Bill said as they went out. "What do you think of that, George? Four bob a week more to put by regularly. How much more will that make by the time your mother comes?"
 
"We won't put it all by, Bill. I think the other will be enough. This four shillings a week we will put aside at present for clothes. We want two more shirts apiece, and some more stockings, and we shall want some shoes before long, and another suit of clothes each. We must keep ourselves decent, you know."[Pg 63]
 
From the time when they began work the boys had gone regularly every Sunday morning to a small iron church near their lodging, and they also went to an evening service once a week. Their talk, too, at home was often on religion, for Bill was extremely anxious to learn, and although his questions and remarks often puzzled George to answer, he was always ready to explain things as far as he could.
 
February came, and to George's delight he heard, from his mother that she was so much better that the doctor thought that when she came out at the end of April she would be as strong as she had ever been. Her eyes had benefited greatly by her long rest, and she said that she was sure she should be able to do work as before. She had written several times since they had been at Limehouse, expressing her great pleasure at hearing that George was so well and comfortable. At Christmas, the works being closed for four days, George had gone down to see her, and they had a delightful talk together. Christmas had indeed been a memorable occasion to the boys, for on Christmas Eve the carrier had left a basket at Grimstone's directed "George Andrews." The boys had prepared their Christmas dinner, consisting of some fine rashers of bacon and sixpenny-worth of cold plum pudding from a cook-shop, and had already rather lamented this outlay, for Mrs. Grimstone had that afternoon invited them to dine downstairs. George was reading from a book[Pg 64] which he bought for a penny that morning when there was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Grimstone said:
 
"Here is a hamper for you, George."
 
"A hamper for me!" George exclaimed in astonishment, opening the door. "Why, whoever could have sent a hamper for me! It must be a mistake."
 
"That's your name on the direction, anyhows," Mrs. Grimstone said.
 
"Yes, that's my name, sure enough," George agreed, and at once began to unknot the string which fastened down the lid.
 
"Here is a Christmas card at the top!" he shouted. He turned it over. On the back were the words:
 
"With all good wishes, Helen Penrose."
 
"Well, that is kind," George said in rather a husky voice; and indeed it was the kindness that prompted the gift rather than the gift itself that touched him.
 
"Now, then, George," Bill remonstrated; "never mind that there card, let's see what's inside."
 
The hamper was unpacked, and was found to contain a cold goose, a Christmas pudding, and some oranges and apples. These were all placed on the table, and when Mrs. Grimstone had retired Bill executed a war-dance in triumph and delight.
 
"I never did see such a game," he said at last, as he sat down exhausted. "There's a Christmas din[Pg 65]ner for yer! Why, it's like them stories of the genii you was a-telling me about—chaps as come whenever yer rubbed a ring or an old lamp, and brought a tuck-out or whatever yer asked for. Of course that wasn't true; yer told me it wasn't, and I shouldn't have believed it if yer hadn't, but this 'ere is true. Now I sees, George, as what yer said was right and what I said was wrong. I thought yer were a flat 'cause yer wouldn't take nothing for getting back that there locket, and now yer see what's come of it, two good berths for us and a Christmas dinner fit for a king. Now what are we going to do with it, 'cause yer know we dines with them downstairs to-morrow?"
 
"The best thing we can do, I think," George answered, "will be to invite all of them downstairs, Bob Grimstone, his wife, and the three young uns, to supper, not to-morrow night nor the night after, because I shan't be back from Croydon till late, but say the evening after."
 
"But we can't hold them all," Bill said, looking round the room.
 
"No, we can't hold them here, certainly, but I dare say they will let us have the feed in their parlor. There will be nothing to get, you know, but some bread and butter, and some beer for Bob. Mrs. Grimstone don't take it, so we must have plenty of tea."
 
"I should like some beer too, just for once, George, with such a blow-out as that."[Pg 66]
 
"No, no, Bill, you and I will stick to tea. You know we agreed that we wouldn't take beer. If we begin it once we shall want it again, so we are not going to alter from what we agreed to. We see plenty of the misery which drink causes all round and the way in which money is wasted over it. I like a glass of beer as well as you do, and when I get to be a man I dare say I shall take a glass with my dinner regularly, though I won't do even that if I find it makes me want to take more; but anyhow at present we can do without it."
 
Bill agreed, and the dinner-party downstairs and the supper two nights afterwards came off in due course, and were both most successful.
 
The acknowledgment of the gift had been a matter of some trouble to George, but he had finally bought a pretty New Year's card and had written on the back, "with the grateful thanks of George Andrews," and had sent it to the daughter of his employer.
 
At the beginning of April George had consulted Grimstone and his wife as to the question of preparing a home for his mother.
 
"How much would two rooms cost?" he had asked; "one a good-sized one and the other the same size as ours."
 
"Four shillings or four and sixpence," Mrs. Grimstone replied.
 
"And supposing we had a parlor and two little bedrooms?"[Pg 67]
 
"Five and sixpence or six shillings, I should say," Mrs. Grimstone replied.
 
"And how much for a whole house?"
 
"It depends upon the size. We pay seven shillings a week, but you might get one without the kitchen and bedroom over it behind for six shillings."
 
"That would be much the nicest," George said, "only it would cost such a lot to furnish it."
 
"But you needn't furnish it all at once," Mrs. Grimstone suggested. "Just a kitchen and two bedrooms for a start, and you can put things into the parlor afterwards. That's the way we did when we first married. But you must have some furniture."
 
"And how much will it cost for the kitchen and two bedrooms?"
 
"Of course going cheaply to work and buying the things secondhand, I should say I could pick up the things for you, so that you could do very well," Mrs. Grimstone said, "for six or seven pounds."
 
"That will do capitally," George said, "for by the end of this month Bill and I will have more than ten pounds laid by."
 
"What! since you came here?" Grimstone exclaimed in astonishment. "Do you mean to say you boys have laid by five pounds apiece?"
 
"Yes, and bought a lot of things too," his wife put in.
 
"Why, you must have been starving yourselves!"[Pg 68]
 
"We don't look like it," George laughed. "I am sure Bill is a stone heavier than when he came here."
 
"Well, young chap, it does you a lot of credit," Bob Grimstone said. "It isn't every boy, by a long way, would stint himself as you must have done for the last five months to make a comfortable home for his mother, for I know lots of men who are earning their two quid a week and has their old people in the workhouse. Well, all I can say is that if I or the missis here can be of any use to you in taking a house we shall be right down glad."
 
"Thank you," George said. "We will look about for a house, and when we have fixed on one if you or Mrs. Grimstone will go about it for us I shall be much obliged, for I don't think landlords would be inclined to let a house to two boys."
 
"All right, George! we will do that for you with pleasure. Besides, you know, there are things, when you are going to take a house, that you stand out for; such as papering and painting, or putting in a new range, and things of that sort."
 
After their dinner on the following Sunday the two boys set out house-hunting.
 
"If it's within a mile that will do," George said. "It doesn't matter about our going home in the breakfast time. We can bring our grub in a basket and our tea in a bottle, as several of the hands do; but if it's over a mile we shall have to hurry to get[Pg 69] there and back for dinner. Still there are plenty of houses in a mile."
 
There were indeed plenty of houses, in long regular rows, bare and hard-looking, but George wanted to find something more pleasant and homelike than these. Late in the afternoon he came upon what he wanted. It was just about a mile from the works and beyond the lines of regular streets. Here he found a turning off the main road with but eight houses in it, four on each side. It looked as if the man who built them had intended to run a street down for some distance, but had either been unable to obtain enough ground or had changed his mind.
 
They stood in pairs, each with its garden in front, with a bow-window and little portico. They appeared to be inhabited by a different class to those who lived in the rows, chiefly by city clerks, for the gardens were nicely kept, the blinds were clean and spotless, muslin curtains hung in the windows, and fancy tables with pretty ornaments stood between them. Fortunately one of them, the last on the left-hand side, was to let.
 
"What do you think of this, Bill?"
 
"It seems to be just the thing; but how about the rent, George? I should think they were awful dear."
 
"I don't suppose they are any more than the houses in the rows, Bill. They are very small, you see, and I don't suppose they would suit workmen as well as the others; at any rate we will see."[Pg 70]
 
Whereupon George noted down on a scrap of paper the name of the agent of whom inquiry was to be made.
 
"No. 8," he said; "but what's the name of the street? Oh, there it is. Laburnum Villas. No. 8 Laburnum Villas; that sounds first-rate, doesn't it? I will get Mrs. Grimstone to go round to the agent to-morrow."
 
This Mrs. Grimstone agreed to do directly she was asked. After speaking to her husband she said, "I will get the key from the agent's and will be there just after twelve to-morrow, so if you go there straight when you get out you will be able to see the rooms and what state it's in."
 
"But how about Bob's dinner?" George asked.
 
"Oh, he will have it cold to-morrow, and I will set it out for him before I start."
 
"That is very kind, Mrs. Grimstone, thank you very much. It would be just the thing."
 
Accordingly, at ten minutes past twelve on the following day the two boys arrived breathless at No. 8 Laburnum Villas.
 
"Hurrah!" George shouted, "there is Mrs. Grimstone at the window."
 
The door was opened and they rushed in.
 
"It's a tidy little place," Mrs. Grimstone said; "and it's in good order and won't want any money laying out upon it."
 
The house was certainly small, but the boys were delighted with it. On the ground-floor were two[Pg 71] little rooms opening with folding doors, and a little kitchen built out behind. There was a room over this, and two rooms above the sitting rooms.
 
"That's just the right number," George said, "a bedroom each for us; it couldn't be nicer; and what pretty paper!"
 
"And there is a good long slip of garden behind," Mrs. Grimstone said, "where you could grow lots of vegetables. Of course in the front you would have flowers."
 
"And how much do they want for it?"
 
"Seven and sixpence a week, including rates and taxes. I call it dear for its size, but then of course it's got the garden and it looks pretty and nice. The agent says it's been painted and papered from top to bottom since the last people left, but he says the owner won't let it unless somebody comes who is likely to stop, and he will want references of respectability."
 
"All right!" George said; "I can manage that," for he had already been thinking of the question in his mind; "and we can manage seven and sixpence a week; can't we, Bill?"
 
"We will try, anyhow," Bill said stoutly, for he was as much pleased with the cottage as George was.
 
They explored the garden behind the house. This was about a hundred feet long by twenty-five wide. Half of it was covered with stumps of a plantation of cabbages, the other half was empty and[Pg 72] had evidently been dug up by the last tenants ready for planting.
 
"Why, I should think we shall be able to grow all our own potatoes here!" George exclaimed in delight.
 
Mrs. Grimstone was a country woman, and she shook her head.
 
"You wouldn't be able to do that, George, not if you gave it all up to potatoes; but if you planted the further end with potatoes you might get a good many, and then, you know, at this end you might have three or four rows of peas and French beans, and lettuces and such like, but you will have to get some manure to put in. Things won't grow without manure even in the country, and I am sure they won't here; and then you know you can have flowers in the front of the house. But it's time for you to be off, else you will be late at the works. I am sure it's more than half an hour since you came in. I will take the key back and tell them they shall have an answer by Wednesday or Thursday."
 
George did not think they could have been a quarter of an hour; however, he and Bill started at a trot, which they increased into a run at the top of their speed when the first clock they saw pointed to seven minutes to one. The bell was ringing as they approached the works; it stopped when they were within fifty yards, and the gate was just closing as they rushed up.
 
"Too late," the man said.[Pg 73]
 
"Oh, do let us through," George panted out; "it's the first time we have ever been late, and we have run a mile to be here in time!"
 
"Oh, it's you, is it?" the man said, opening the gate a few inches to look through. "Ah, well I will let you in this time, 'cause you are well-behaved young chaps; but don't you run it so close another time, else you will have to lose your hour."