William Kingston - The School Friends - or, Nothing New

“By thinking only of the prize, and not duly employing the means to obtain it, many a man has slipped off the ladder, and, crushed by his fall, has failed again to reach it,” the Doctor observed to him one day. “Go on as you propose, my boy, and never trouble yourself about the result; God blesses honest efforts when His assistance is sought. I do not advise you to remain at Elmerston. Seek your fortune in London. You may have a much harder struggle to endure than you would here, but you will come off victorious, and gain ultimately a respectable position.”

Such was the tenor of the remarks of his late master to Lance, during a visit he paid him, after he had left school. His mother agreed with what had been said.

“I should grieve to part with you, Lance; but as I am sure it will be for your advantage, it must be done, and we shall have the happiness of seeing you down here when you can get a holiday.”

“That will indeed be great!” murmured Maddie, who had not before spoken.

She was in the habit of looking at the bright side of things, and thought more of the joyful meeting than of the long, long time they must be separated.

“I will write to your uncle Durrant, and ask him what he can do,” continued Mrs Loughton. “My brother is kind and generous, and though he has a large family, and I fear his salary from the Government office he holds is but small, yet I am sure he will do his utmost to assist you.”

“I ought to be at work without delay, mother,” said Lance; “so pray write as you propose to uncle Durrant.” He cast a glance at Maddie, and added, “I’ll do my best to employ my time profitably while I am at home. You know that I am happier here than I can be anywhere else.”

“Yes,” said Maddie, “I am sure there is no happier place than this.”

The letter to Mr Durrant was written, and while waiting for an answer, Lance spent much of the time not occupied in study in the garden, very frequently with Maddie as his companion. He had from his boyhood been accustomed to cultivate it, and he was anxious to leave it in the most perfect order possible. It was pleasant to sit reading with Maddie by his side, but pleasanter still to be working in the fresh air among sweet flowers, receiving such assistance as she could give, and talking cheerfully all the time.

The expected answer from Mr Durrant came in the course of a few days. “I lost no time in looking for a situation for Lance, and I was able, from the report I received from the Doctor, to speak confidently of him,” he wrote. “I have obtained one in the office of my friend Mr Gaisford, a highly respectable solicitor in the city, who, knowing Lance’s circumstances, will attend to his interests, and advance him according to his deserts.”

“It appears very satisfactory, and we should be truly grateful to your uncle,” observed Mrs Loughton. “You are to go to his house. You will have a long walk into London every day, but that, he says, will be good for you. He does not speak about salary, but as, from what I understand, you are to take up your abode with him, I hope that you will receive sufficient to repay him.”

“I would rather live in a garret on bread and water, than be an expense to my uncle, who can with difficulty support his large family,” observed Lance; “and so I will thankfully take any office where I can get enough to maintain myself, even in the most humble way.”

“Well, well, dear Lance, your uncle and I will settle that,” said Mrs Loughton. “He wishes you to go up the day after to-morrow.”

“So soon?” exclaimed Maddie; “his things will scarcely be ready.”

“I must not delay a day longer than can be helped,” said Lance firmly; “I am eager to begin real work, whatever that may be.”

“You will always do what is right,” said Maddie. “And I will ask Mrs Judkin to come and help me iron your things,” and she ran out of the room, it might possibly have been to hide the tears rising in her eyes.

Maddie was still very young; she had not before parted from Lance, even for a day, and had as yet experienced none of the trials of life. She would have felt the same had Lance been her brother; she scarcely recognised the fact that he was not.

The day of parting came. Mrs Loughton was unable to leave the house. She clasped her boy to her heart, and blessed him, committing him to the charge of One all able and willing to protect those who confide in His love. Maddie, attended by Mrs Judkin, whose husband wheeled his portmanteau, accompanied Lance to the railway station, and her last tender, loving glance still seemed following him long after the train had rushed off along its iron way.

Perhaps now for the first time he realised how completely his future hopes of happiness depended on her. With manly resolution, and firm confidence in the goodness of God, he prepared, as he had often said he would, to do his duty.

He safely reached his uncle’s house, where he received a kindly welcome from his aunt and a number of young cousins. They looked at him approvingly; he was likely to become a favourite with them.

“I think you will get on with Gaisford,” said his uncle after the conclusion of dinner. “He is an honest man, and a Christian, and feels that he has responsibilities which many are not apt to acknowledge. I will say no more about him. You tell me you wish to do your duty; and therefore all I can say to you is, to try and ascertain what that duty is, and to do it.”

At an early hour the next morning Mr Durrant accompanied his nephew to Mr Gaisford’s office. The principal had not arrived. His head clerk scrutinised Lance from under his spectacles for a few seconds. Apparently satisfied, his countenance relaxed.

“We can find work for him,” he observed, after Lance had been duly introduced; “and as you have to be at your office you can leave him here, and the time need not hang heavily on his hand till Mr Gaisford arrives.”

Mr Durrant, promising to call for his nephew on his way home, hurried off.

Lance had at once a draft placed before him to copy. He wrote a clear, bold hand. Mr Brown, the head clerk, watched him for a minute.

“That will do – go on,” he said, and returned to his seat.

The draft was finished just as Mr Gaisford arrived. The clerk took it in his hand, telling Lance to follow him to their principal’s room. While introducing him, he placed it on the table, and withdrew.

Mr Gaisford, a middle-aged man, slightly grey, with a pleasant expression of countenance, having glanced over the paper, turned round and addressed Lance kindly.

“Sit down,” he said. “Your uncle has told me something about you, but I should like to hear more. Where were you at school?”

Lance told him.

“You were the head boy, I understand.”

He then asked what books he had read, and a variety of other questions, to which Lance answered modestly and succinctly. He then handed the paper back to Lance, to give it to Mr Brown, who would find him something more to do.

“This is written as well as it could be,” he observed. “I always like to have my work well done, and I can depend upon your doing it to the best of your ability.”

“That is what I wish to do,” said Lance, taking the paper and bowing as he left the room.

He had plenty of work during the morning. Mr Brown asked him to come out and take a chop with him at one o’clock.

The head clerk was never long absent from the office, as he might be wanted, and he made it a rule never to keep clients waiting longer than he could help.

“Time is money, my young friend,” he observed. “We should never squander other people’s time more than our own.”

Lance worked hard till his uncle arrived just at the usual hour for closing the office. Mr Gaisford had gone away some time before.