I entered, and, finding the Doctor secretly compounding medicine in a sort of hiding-place at the end of the counter, proceeded to state my case without preamble8.
The Doctor put his head round the corner and surveyed me somewhat disparagingly9.
“You’re a very small boy,” he remarked.
“Yes, sir,” I admitted, “but I am very strong for my size.”
He didn’t appear much impressed by this, but proceeded to enquire10:
“Did Mrs. Gollidge tell you to apply?”
“No, sir,” I replied, “it’s my own idea. You see, sir, I’ve been rather an expense to Aunt Judy — Gollidge, I mean — and I thought that if I could earn a little money, it would be useful.”
“A very proper idea, too,” said the Doctor, apparently11 more impressed by my explanation than by my strength. “Very well. Come round this evening when you leave school. Come straight here, and you can have some tea, and then you can take a basket of medicine and see how you get on with it. I expect you will find it a bit heavy.”
“It will get lighter12 as I go on, sir,” said I; on which the Doctor smiled quite pleasantly, and, having admonished13 me to be punctual, retired14 to his hiding-place, and I departed in triumph.
But the Doctor’s prediction turned out to be only too correct; for when I lifted the deep basket, stacked with bottles of medicine, I was rather shocked by its weight and had to remind myself of my own prediction that the weight would be a diminishing quantity. That was an encouraging reflection. Moreover, there had been agreeable preliminaries in the form of a Gargantuan15 tea, including a boiled egg and marmalade, provided by Mrs. Stubbs, the Doctor’s fat and jovial16 housekeeper17. So I hooked the basket boldly on my arm — and presently shifted it to the other one — and set forth18 on my round, consulting the written list provided for me and judiciously19 selecting the nearest addresses to visit first and thereby20 lighten the basket for the more distant ones.
Still, there was no denying that it was heavy work for a small boy, and when I had made a second round with a fresh consignment21, I felt that I had had enough for one day; and when I returned the empty basket, I was relieved to learn that there was nothing more to deliver.
“Well,” said the Doctor as I handed in the basket, “how did you get on?”
“All right, thank you, sir,” I replied, “but I think it would be easier if I put rather less in the basket and made more journeys.”
The Doctor smiled approvingly. “Yes,” he agreed, “that’s quite a sensible idea. Give your legs a bit more to do and save your arms. Very well; you think you can do the job?”
“I am sure I can, sir, and I should like to.”
“Good,” said he. “The pay will be three and sixpence a week. That suit you?”
It seemed to me an enormous sum, and I agreed gleefully; which closed the transaction and sent me homewards rejoicing and almost oblivious22 of my fatigue23.
A further reward awaited me when I arrived home. Aunt Judy, it is true, had professed24 disapproval25 of the arrangement as interfering26 with my “schooling”; but the substantial hot supper seemed more truly to express her sentiments. It recognized my new status as a working man and my effort to pull my weight in the family boat.
The next day’s work proved much less arduous27, for I put my plan into operation by sorting out the bottles into groups belonging to particular localities, and thus contrived never to have the basket more than half full. This brought the work well within my powers, so that the end of the day found me no more than pleasantly tired; and the occupation was not without its interest, to say nothing of the dignity of my position as a wage-earner. But the full reward of my industry came when, returning home on Saturday night, I was able to set down my three shillings and sixpence on the kitchen table before Aunt Judy, who was laying the supper. The little heap of silver coins, a florin, a shilling, and a sixpence, made a quite impressive display of wealth. I looked at it with proud satisfaction — arid28 also with a certain wistful curiosity as to whether any of that wealth might be coming my way. I had faint hopes of the odd sixpence, and watched a little anxiously as Aunt Judy spread out the heap with a considering air. Eventually, she picked up the florin and the sixpence, and, pushing the shilling towards me, suddenly put her arm round my neck and kissed me.
“You’re a good boy, Nat,” said she; and as she released me and dropped the money in her pocket, I picked up my shilling and turned away to hide the tears that had started to my eyes. Aunt Judy was not a demonstrative woman; but, like many undemonstrative persons, could put a great deal of meaning into a very few words. Half a dozen words and a kiss sweetened my labours for many a day thereafter.
My peregrinations with the basket had, among other effects, that of widening the range of my knowledge of the geography of London. In my early days that knowledge was limited to the few streets that I traversed on my way to and from school, to certain quiet back waters in which one could spin tops at one’s convenience or play games without undue29 interruption, and certain other quiet streets in which one was likely to find the street entertainer: the acrobat30, the juggler31, the fire-eater, or, best of all, the Punch and Judy show.
But now the range of my travels coincided with that of Dr. Pope’s practice and led me far beyond the limits of the familiar neighbourhood; and quite pleasant these explorations were, for they brought me into new streets with new shops in them which provided new entertainment. I think shops were more interesting then than they are in these days of mass-production and uniformity, particularly in an old-fashioned neighbourhood where the crafts were still flourishing. A special favourite was Wardour Street, with its picture-frame makers32, its antique shops filled with wonderful furniture and pictures and statuettes and gorgeous clocks.
But the shop that always brought me to a halt was that of M. Chanot, the violin-maker, which had, hanging on the door-jamb by way of a trade sign, a gigantic bow (or fiddlestick, as I should have described it). It was stupendous. As I gazed at it with the fascination34 that the juvenile35 mind discovers in things gigantic or diminutive36, my imagination strove to picture the kind of fiddle33 that could be played with it and the kind of Titan who could have held the fiddle. And then, as a foil to its enormity, there hung in the window an infant violin, a “kit” such as dancing — masters were wont37 to carry in the skirt pockets of their ample frock-coats.
A few doors from M. Chanot’s was the shop of a second-hand38 bookseller which was also one of the attractions of the street; for it was from the penny and twopenny boxes that my modest library was chiefly recruited, On the present occasion, having paid my respects to the Lilliputian fiddle and the Brobdingnagian bow, I passed on to see what treasures the boxes had to offer. Naturally, I tried the penny box first as being more adapted to my financial resources. But there was nothing in it which specially39 attracted me; whereupon I turned my attention to the twopenny box.
Now, if I were disposed to moralize, I might take this opportunity to reflect on the momentous40 consequences which may emerge from the most insignificant41 antecedents. For my casual rooting about in the twopenny box started a train of events which profoundly influenced my life in two respects, and in one so vitally that, but for the twopenny box, this story could never have been written.
I had turned over nearly all the contents of the box when from the lowest stratum42 I dredged up a shabby little volume the spine43 of which bore in faded gold lettering the title, “Clocks and Locks; Denison.” The words instantly rivetted my attention. Shifting the basket to free both my hands, I opened the book at random44 and was confronted by a beautiful drawing of the interior of a common house-clock, clearly displaying the whole mechanism45. It was a wonderful drawing. With fascinated eyes I pored over it, com paring it rapidly with the well-remembered Dutch clock at home and noting new and unfamiliar46 features. Then I turned over the leaves and discovered other drawings of movements and escapements on which I gazed in rapture47. I had never supposed that there was such a book in the world.
Suddenly I was assailed48 by a horrible doubt. Had I got twopence? Here was the chance of a lifetime; should I have to let it slip? Putting the basket down on the ground, I searched feverishly49 through my pockets; but search as I might even in the most unlikely pockets, the product amounted to no more than a single penny. It was an awful predicament. I had set my heart on that book, and the loss of it was a misfortune that I shuddered50 to contemplate51. Yet there was the grievous fact; the price of the book was two pence and I had only a penny.
Revolving52 this appalling53 situation, I thought of a possible way out of the difficulty. Leaving my basket on the pavement (a most reprehensible54 thing to do; but no one wants to steal medicine, and there were only three bottles left), I stepped into the shop with the book in my hand and deferentially55 approached the book-seller, a stuffy-looking elderly man.
“I want to buy this book, sir,” I explained, timorously56, “but it is twopence, and I have only got a penny. Will you keep it for me if I leave the penny as a deposit? I hope you will, sir. I very much want to have the book.”
He looked at me curiously57, and, taking the little volume from me, glanced at the title and then turned over the leaves.
“Clocks, hey,” said he. “Know anything about clocks?
“Not much, sir,” I replied, “but I should like to learn some more.”
“Well,” said he, “you’ll know all about them when you have read that book; but it is stiffish reading for a boy.”
He handed it back to me, and I laid my penny on it and put it down on the counter.
“I will try to call for it this evening, sir,” said I, “and pay the other penny; and you’ll take great care of it, sir, won’t you?
My earnestness seemed to amuse him, but his smile was a kindly58 and approving smile.
“You can take it away with you,” said he, “and then you will make sure of it.”
Tears of joy and gratitude59 rose to my eyes, so that I had nearly taken up the penny as well as the book. I thanked him shyly but warmly and, picking up the precious volume, went out with it in my hand. But even now I paused to take another look at my treasure before resuming charge of the neglected basket. At length I bestowed60 the book in my pocket, and, returning to my proper business, took up the basket and was about to sort out the remaining three bottles when I made a most surprising discovery. At the bottom of the basket, beside the bottles, lay a leather wallet. I gazed at it in astonishment61. Of course, it was not mine, and I had not put it there, nor, I was certain, had it been there when I went into the shop. Some one must have put it in during my short absence. But why should anyone present me with a wallet? It could hardly have been dropped into the basket by accident; but yet — I picked it out and examined it curiously, noting that it had an elastic62 band to keep it closed but that nevertheless it was open. Then I ventured to inspect the inside, but, beyond a few stamps and a quantity of papers, it seemed to contain nothing of interest to me. Besides, it was not mine. I was still puzzling over it when I became aware of a policeman approaching down the street in company with a short, wrathful looking elderly gentleman who appeared to be talking excitedly while the constable63 listened with an air of resignation. Just as they reached me, the gentleman caught sight of the wallet and immediately rushed at me and snatched it out of my hand.
“Here you are, Constable,” he exclaimed, “here is the stolen property and here is the thief, taken red-handed.”
“Red-handed be blowed,” said the constable. “You said just now that you saw the man run away, and you’ve led me a dance a-chasing him. You had better see if there is anything missing.”
But the wrathful gentleman had already seen that there was.
“Yes!” he roared, “there were three five-pound notes, and they’re gone! Stolen! Fifteen pounds! But I’ll have satisfaction. I give this young villain65 in charge. Perhaps he has the notes on him still. We’ll have him searched at the station.”
“Now, now,” said the constable, soothingly66, “don’t get excited, sir. Softly, softly, you catch the monkey. You said that you saw the man run off.”
“So I did; but, of course, this young rascal67 is a confederate, and I give him in charge.”
“Wait a minute, sir. Let’s hear what he’s got to say. Now, young shaver, tell us how you came by that pocket-book.”
I described the circumstances, including my absence in the shop, and the constable, having listened patiently, went in and verified my statement by questioning the bookseller.
“There, sir, you see,” said he when he came out, “it’s quite simple. The pickpocket68 fished the notes out of your wallet and then, as he was making off, he looked for some place where he could drop the empty case out of sight, and there was this boy’s basket with no one looking after it, just the very place he wanted. So he dropped it in as he passed. Wouldn’t have done to drop it in the street where some one might have seen it and run after him to give it back.”
The angry gentleman shook his head. “I can’t accept that,” said he. “It’s only a guess, and an unlikely one at that.”
“But,” the constable protested, “it’s what they always do: drop the empty purses or pocket-books in a doorway69 or a dark corner or post them in pillar-boxes — anywhere to get the incriminating stuff out of sight. It’s common sense.”
But the gentleman was obdurate70. “No, no,” he persisted, “that won’t do. The common sense of it is that I found this boy with the stolen property in his possession, and I insist on giving him in charge.”
The constable was in a dilemma71, but he was a sensible man and he made the best of it. “Well, sir,” he said, “if you insist, I suppose we must walk round to the station and report the affair. But I can tell you that the inspector72 won’t take the charge.”
“He’ll have to,” retorted the other, “when I have made my statement.”
The constable looked at him sourly and then turned to me almost apologetically.
“Well, sonny,” said he, “you’ll have to come along to the station and see what the inspector has to say.”
“Can’t I deliver my medicines first?” I pleaded. “The people may be wanting them, and there are only three bottles.”
The policeman grinned but evidently appreciated my point of view, for he replied, still half-apologetically: “You’re quite right, my lad, but I don’t suppose they’ll be any the worse for a few minutes more without their physic, and the station is quite handy. Come, now; step out.”
But even now the irate73 gentleman was not satisfied.
“Aren’t you going to hold him so that he doesn’t escape?” he demanded.
Then, for the first time, the patient constable showed signs of temper. “No, sir,” he replied, brusquely, “I am not going to drag a respectable lad through the streets as if he had committed a crime when I know he hasn’t.”
That settled the matter, and we walked on with the manner of a family party. But it was an uncomfortable experience To a boy of my age, a police station is a rather alarming sort of place; and the fact that I was going to be charged with a robbery was a little disturbing. However, the constable’s attitude was reassuring74, and, as we traversed Great Marlborough Street and at last entered the grim doorway, I was only moderately nervous.
The proceedings75 were, as my constabulary friend had foreseen, quite brief. The policeman made his concise76 report to the inspector, I answered the few questions that the officer asked, and the gentleman made his statement, incriminating me.
“Where did the robbery take place?” the inspector asked.
“In Berwick Street,” was the reply. “I was leaning over a stall when I felt myself touched, and then a man moved away quickly through the crowd; and then I missed my wallet and gave chase.”
“You were leaning over a stall,” the inspector repeated. “Now, how on earth did he get at your wallet?”
“It was in my coat-tail pocket,” the gentleman explained.
“In your coat-tail pocket!” the inspector repeated, incredulously; “with fifteen pounds in it, and you leaning over a stall in a crowded street! Why, sir, it was a free gift to a pickpocket.”
“I suppose I can carry my wallet where I please,” the other snapped.
“Certainly you can — at your own risk. Well, I can’t accept the charge against this boy. There is no evidence; in fact, there isn’t even any suspicion. It would be only wasting the magistrate’s time. But I will take the boy’s name and address and make a few inquiries77. And I will take yours too and let you know if anything transpires78.”
He took my name and address (and my accuser made a note of them), and that, so far as I was concerned, finished the business. I took up my basket and went forth a free boy in company with my friend the police man. In Great Marlborough Street we parted, he to return to his beat, and I to the remainder of my round of deliveries.
So ended an incident that had, at one time, looked quite threatening. And yet it had not really ended. Perhaps no incident ever does truly end. For every antecedent begets79 consequences. Coming events cast their shadows before them; but those shadows usually remain invisible until the events which have cast them have, themselves, come into view. Indeed, it befalls thus almost from necessity; for how can a shadow be identified otherwise than by comparison with the substance?
But I shall not here anticipate the later passages of my story. The consequences will emerge in their proper place. I may, however, refer briefly80 to the more immediate64 reactions, though these also had their importance later. The little book which I had purchased (and paid for the same evening) was a treatise81 on clocks and locks by that incomparable master of horology and mechanism, Edmund Beckett Denison (later to be known as Lord Grimthorpe). It was an invaluable82 book, and it became my chiefest treasure. Carefully wrapped in a protective cover of brown paper, the precious volume was henceforth my constant companion. The abstruse83 mathematical sections I had regretfully to pass over, but the descriptive parts were read and reread until I could have recited them from memory. Even the drawings of the Great Westminster Clock, which had at first appeared so bewildering, became intelligible84 by repeated study, and the intricacies of gravity escapements and maintaining powers grew simple by familiarity.
Thus did the revered85 E. B. Denison add a new delight to my life. Not only was every clock-maker’s window a thing of beauty and a provider of quiet pleasure, but an object so lowly as the lock of the scullery door — detached by Uncle Sam and by me carefully dismembered — was made to furnish an entertainment compared with which even the Punch and Judy show paled into insignificance86.
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1
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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laconic
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| adj.简洁的；精练的 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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remunerative
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| adj.有报酬的 | |
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scholastic
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| adj.学校的，学院的，学术上的 | |
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enquiring
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| a.爱打听的，显得好奇的 | |
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preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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disparagingly
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| adv.以贬抑的口吻，以轻视的态度 | |
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enquire
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| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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gargantuan
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| adj.巨大的，庞大的 | |
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jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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judiciously
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| adv.明断地，明智而审慎地 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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consignment
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| n.寄售；发货；委托；交运货物 | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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undue
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| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
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acrobat
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| n.特技演员，杂技演员 | |
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juggler
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| n. 变戏法者, 行骗者 | |
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makers
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| n.制造者，制造商（maker的复数形式） | |
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fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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stratum
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| n.地层，社会阶层 | |
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spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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50
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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51
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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52
revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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53
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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54
reprehensible
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| adj.该受责备的 | |
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55
deferentially
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| adv.表示敬意地，谦恭地 | |
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56
timorously
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| adv.胆怯地，羞怯地 | |
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57
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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58
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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pickpocket
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| n.扒手；v.扒窃 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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obdurate
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| adj.固执的，顽固的 | |
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dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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concise
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| adj.简洁的，简明的 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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transpires
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| （事实，秘密等）被人知道( transpire的第三人称单数 )； 泄露； 显露； 发生 | |
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begets
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| v.为…之生父( beget的第三人称单数 )；产生，引起 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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treatise
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| n.专著；(专题)论文 | |
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invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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abstruse
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| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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