Chapter 9

"I should think it would," said Fred; and then added, in a humorous vein, "I would like to run my clothes through a machine like that; and I don't know but myself too, after working all day in this stifling dust. I wonder if it would clean our jackets? I rather think they would have to run through more than once to remove so many flocks."

"Oh! there is a brush up where the handles are brushed that is just the thing for our jackets. I have brushed mine there a good many times."

"Where the handles are brushed? Why, what is the object in brushing them?"

"The teasels fill all up with the nap that they dig out of the cloth, so they are only run a little while at a time before they are changed and clean ones put into the gigs. Then those that are taken off are brushed so that the nap almost all comes off and leaves the handles clean again. Didn't you notice that light stuff that we put into the wet grinder? Well, that is what comes off from the handles. It is made into flocks, pieces of teasels and all."

"Yes, I have seen it, and meant to ask you before where it came from. I suppose that is where the profit is made, in allowing as little to waste as possible. Well, go on with the finishing business."

"There isn't much more to be told about it. The cloth goes from the brush to presses where it is pressed with steam and by machinery of some kind that is awful powerful. The cloth is folded first into single width, and then it is folded the other way, so that it is about a yard square. A piece of stiff, smooth paper is placed between each fold. The cloth stays in the press quite a long time, and when it is taken out it is ready to be shipped to New York or wherever it is to go."

Fred expressed his gratitude to Carl for furnishing him so much information, and felt that, having gained considerable theoretical idea of finishing cloth, he could the more rapidly accumulate such knowledge as might be of valuable service to him.

Fred received a charming little note from Nellie, thanking him over and over again for the sweet flowers he had sent her. "Such a delightful surprise," she said, "and to think you should be so thoughtful of me and so very, very kind when you think I deserted you in your trouble. I cannot understand you under these circumstances, but I hope some time you will tell me your motive in returning good for evil, as I know you feel you have done."

The note made him rather happy at first, but as he studied it more carefully it somewhat chilled him.

"'Some time' she hopes I may tell her my motive, not very soon; the 'some time' sounds a good away off," he mused. "I wonder why this is! Perhaps she wants to wait and see if I am innocent of all that still seems against me before she will invite me to call, or even meet me."

This seemed so probable to him that he felt like punishing himself for having acted so impulsively.

In the mean time Matthew, among others, learned of Fred's sending the flowers, and heard that Nellie was much pleased at receiving them. This galled him severely, especially as she had refused to see him when he called. With all he had done to injure Fred, and with all of his efforts to please her, he feared that his rival was still more of a favorite with her than himself, though the former was now but a factory boy.

He felt exceedingly bitter and tempted to play even a bolder game than he had thus far done.

"But what can it be?" he said to himself. "I have already tried to waylay him, and failed. I got the bartender to drug him and make him drunk, thinking that would keep him down. But no! He was discharged on this account, and I thought he was disgraced, but still he was not put down. I even----" but here he shrank from repeating even to himself this terrible act, and buried his face in his hands in deep thought--defeated, dejected, and miserable.

XXV.

For a time everything at the factory ran well, and Fred turned off his work quite as satisfactorily as could have been expected, since he was a new hand and unaccustomed to the duties. He learned them readily, however, but not soon enough to escape the fault finding of Christopher Hanks, who seemed to delight in making it uncomfortable for the boys, as he was one of those disagreeable and contemptible men who take delight in tyrannizing over those below them in authority, especially if they are boys, and consequently not able to match them in strength and courage.

It is just possible, however, that Christopher overestimated his own powers in this latter respect, or still more probable that he had a decidedly faulty conception of our young friend's muscular development, as may hereafter be shown.

Fred had the good sense, however, to keep from having any trouble with him on first going into the mill, as he was already under a cloud, and he knew that it would be for his advantage to submit for a time to what was anything but agreeable to one of his spirit. "A fuss with Hanks at this time," thought he, "might turn Mr. Farrington against me, and then I should have no strong friend left."

Fred looked upon Mr. Farrington as one who would do everything possible to help him advance and aid him in re-establishing his innocence. It may as well be said here that this latter consideration was more to him than anything else, for he felt most keenly the attitude of many of his former friends whenever he chanced to meet them. Moreover, he hoped to be promoted as soon as a vacancy should occur, provided he conducted himself so as to merit it.

For these several reasons Fred put up with the mean treatment of Hanks, that he might become well established before asserting his manliness and independence.

He did the heavy work that really belonged to Hanks, so that Carl might escape it. He did even more than had been done by either boy before he came, for the carrying of the cloth had been imposed upon him. Fred did not know this for some time, until Jack Hickey, the "Jolly Scourer," said to him one day:

"Me b'y, why do ye let that ould spalpane crowd ye so?"

"Why, what do you mean?" inquired young Worthington, who wanted to draw out his friend of the Emerald Isle.

"I mane about luggin' the cloth. Sure, an' no b'y but ye has ever done it."

"I thought it was a part of my work; he told me to do it the first morning I came in, and no one ever spoke to me about it before."

"Oh, by St. Patrick, he'd loaf on ye if he could--the old sour mouth."

This opened Fred's eyes still further, and when he saw Carl he said to him:

"Why didn't you tell me that it wasn't my work to lug the cloth down?"

"Because Mr. Hanks told me that he was going to make you do it, and threatened me if I told you; and I didn't want to do anything to displease him."

"Well, it is all right; I am glad you didn't do anything to make him treat you worse, but there may be a time ahead for a reckoning between him and me. I know of other tricks of his, and I'll make good use of my information when the time comes."

"I hope you won't have a fuss with him and leave the flockers. My work is so much easier now," replied Carl anxiously.

"Oh, no; I guess I won't leave them right away," returned Fred. "I am glad if you are getting along better than you did before I came."

"Oh, yes, I am; and my back isn't so lame now I don't lift any; but I don't seem to get strong. It seems as if I couldn't do the heavy work anymore if I tried."

"I am indeed sorry," said Fred sympathetically, "but I hope you don't get so tired as you did. If you do not, and think you are strong enough, I would like to have you come up to my house evenings and study with me. I think you spoke as if you would like a better education. I thought that night, after we were talking about it, that I would ask you to do this, and I have been waiting for you to get stronger; but you have looked so tired all the time that I kept putting off speaking about it till now."

As the little cripple thought of the previous kind acts of Fred, and listened to his new proposal to teach him, his eyes grew moist with gratitude, and a crystal drop stole down his thin, pale cheek. He said nothing for a moment or two, but that silent tear meant more to our young friend than words could have expressed. It seemed to him that at no time in his life had his own heart been so large and his sympathy for others so great.

Presently Carl replied:

"Oh, I should be so glad of such a chance, but I am afraid it would trouble you too much."

"No, that's nothing. It would do me good to review my studies, and, moreover, I should find a pleasure in feeling that I was really doing you a good turn."

"Then I will try it, and I hope I can hold out, for if I could only get an education I think I could find some lighter work to do that would be better for me. I don't feel very strong now, but I hope I can stand it. When shall I commence?"

"You may come any evening."

"You are at home every night, are you?"

"Yes, every evening except Sunday--then I go to church."

"I should think you would go out with the boys and have some fun."

"I can't do that and study too."

"Do you study now? I thought you were a good scholar."

"Yes; I have not missed an evening since I came into the mill."

"What are you studying?"

"I am studying mathematics and practising penmanship most of the time. They will be most useful to me if ever I get into business."

"I am afraid it would be too much trouble, then, for you to teach me."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I have plenty of books, too, that you can use, so you need not buy any," said Fred, wishing to encourage his friend as much as possible, though he well knew that his offer would be no little inconvenience to himself.

In the course of a few evenings Carl asked his uncle, after they had finished supper, if he could go over to Mr. Worthington's for a little while; and after receiving a favorable answer he went up stairs and put on another suit. It was the best the poor boy had, though the coat fitted him badly, owing to his deformity. All the garments, moreover, were made from inexpensive material, and had been in service so long that they showed much wear.

Those of my readers who know nothing of poverty, or even want, would doubtless consider a suit of this kind almost unfit for gunning or fishing; but as it was the only dress suit which Carl had, he kept it neat and clean. He put on a white collar, a well worn blue necktie, and thus attired was soon on his way to his friend's house.

XXVI.

Fred found, much to his surprise, that Carl was something of a scholar, as he could read well and write a very fair hand. He had thoroughly mastered an elementary arithmetic, learning all of the tables and rules so as to apply them readily and correctly.

"When did you learn so much about mathematics?" asked Fred. "You have had no teacher."

"Well, I got a little idea of it before going into the mill, enough so that I managed to work my way through the book after getting around again from my sickness. Since then I have been through the book so many times that I know it almost by heart."

"Why didn't you get a more advanced book, instead of spending so much time on this one?"

"That is just what I wanted, but couldn't buy one."

"Almost any one would have given or lent you one, the same as I am going to let you use my books. It is too bad that you have been kept back for the want of suitable books; but what you have been over you have learned so thoroughly that it is worth about as much to you as if you had been through several higher arithmetics, and knew none of them well. Have you ever studied geography?"

"No, I have not, and that is just the book I want to study most, for I would like to know something about the world. Have you a geography?"

"Yes, I have two that I am done using. It is an interesting study. I used to like to draw maps." And opening his desk--which, by the way, Fred had made himself--he took out a large number of well executed maps, and showed them to Carl, in whose eyes shone a gleam of admiration as he looked them over, and said, almost incredulously:

"You didn't make them, did you? And with a pen, too? Why! they look like boughten ones."

"Yes, I made them all with a pen and different kinds of ink; that shading is all pen work, too. It is easy enough after one gets the hang of it. The greatest trouble is to get just the right shape to the maps, and to have everything in the right proportion."

"I should think that would be hard enough, but these letters are what stick me. They are exactly like print."

"Oh, they are easy; I learned to print a long time ago. It is much easier than good penmanship, for it is slow, while writing is done much faster, so it takes a lot of practice to get the knack of it; but I like it and can do pretty good work now. Here are some of my cards and a little flourishing work, and this is what I am doing now"--showing Carl a set of books on which he had been at work in his bookkeeping.

Again the little cripple was greatly interested to see the handsome work before him--for handsome it was, as Fred, by dint of much practice, had become a superior penman.

"I never saw such good writing," said Carl; "only what our writing master used to do, when I went to school, and he didn't do any of these birds either. Where did you learn to do it?"

"I learned it right here. You or anybody could do it by practising enough."

"I wish I had known that before, then I could have practised when I had no books to study; but I thought nobody could learn to write much without a teacher."

"You were mistaken there; a good copy and plenty of the right sort of practice will make any one a good penman. But what would you like to study most? Tell me what you want to fit yourself for, then I will tell you what I think will do you the most good."

"I would like to get so I could keep books. There is a place in the finishing room where an account of the cloth and shipping is kept. It is easy work, and pays well. I thought, perhaps, if I could only do the work, I might some time get that job, or some good place outside of the mill."

"Yes, that would, perhaps, be the best thing for you; so I should think you had better practise penmanship, bookkeeping, and spelling. You know about enough of mathematics already for keeping ordinary accounts. The bookkeeping won't amount to very much to you in itself, but while you are at work at that you will be gaining in the other two, and will get used to the forms. You wanted to study geography, but you had better let that go till you get fitted for a better position; then you can take it up at leisure."

Fred now procured pen and paper for Carl, and set about instructing him in penmanship. The little cripple was so much pleased with his kind treatment that his gratitude was plainly expressed in his face, and he commenced his task with all a boy's enthusiasm. As he carefully copied the letters before him, his mind doubtless looked forward to the time when he would rise above his present position in life and approach nearer to the goal of his ambition.

The next morning Carl did not put in an appearance at the regular hour. Time went by and still he did not come. This left Christopher Hanks' force one hand short, and obliged him to do a good amount of work himself to enable him and Fred to keep all the machines running.

He was quite out of sorts this morning, and Carl's absence, together with the extra work, made him irritable, cross, and overbearing. Fred endured this disagreeable mood for a while, but at last it grew intolerable to him, so when Hanks ordered him in an insolent tone to bring down more cloth he refused point blank.

Hanks fell into a rage and acted as if he would like to smash things generally, and Fred in particular, but he very sensibly kept a good distance from the latter, who had little regard for such a scraggy, ill tempered individual.

"So you refuse to do yer work?" demanded Hanks excitedly.

"No, sir, I do not," replied Fred firmly.

"Then will you bring them bundles down?"

"No, sir."

"That's your work," said Hanks, cooling down at Fred's determined tone and manner.

"That is not my work, though you have imposed it upon me since I have been here."

"I'm boss of this here job, and what I tell yer to do is fur yer to 'tend to. Ef yer don't mind me I'll have yer discharged," said Hanks, trying to intimidate our young friend.

"I would like to see you have me discharged for not doing your work," said Fred defiantly. "I have found out all about this business, and just what I am supposed to do."

Hanks saw that he was foiled, that Fred had the advantage of him, and that he had better let the matter drop as easily as possible, or he might find himself in trouble if Fred should take it to Mr. Farrington. It suddenly occurred to him that he was needed up in the other room, and he withdrew hastily. As he turned to go he noted the evident pleasure pictured on Jack Hickey's face at his own discomfiture and Fred's triumph.

"Good, me b'y!" said the jolly Irishman to our young friend. "I told ye not to stand the old spalpane's thricks."

"I don't mean to any longer," replied Fred.

"Ye has a dale of sparit, for sure. I knowed it all the time, but bedad and I thought it wad never start."

"Now it has started I'll keep it up so far as Hanks is concerned," replied our hero, as he took a basket under his arm and started for a supply of flocks.

Hanks managed to avoid him the remainder of the forenoon. No further crash therefore occurred between them during that time. That the scraggy old man was thoroughly angry there was no doubt--angry at Fred's triumph over him, and most angry at poor little Carl for remaining away, and as Hanks believed, for telling what he had forbidden him to disclose to Fred.

About three o'clock in the afternoon Carl came in, pale and sick, but much better than in the morning, when despite all his efforts he could not summon strength enough to go to his work. Fred was in the drying room at the time, and Hanks was up after a roll of cloth. He had just brought down two, and was struggling to get an exceedingly large roll upon his shoulder. This he succeeded in doing after one or two failures, that caused the hands standing near to laugh at him, and make irritating remarks, as is their custom on such occasions.

All this had its maddening effect upon him, and it so happened that one of the employees had just taken up the stairs a bucket filled with soft soap, and had accidentally spilled some on the three top stairs. Hanks now came along with the roll of cloth, twice his own size, upon his shoulder--an awkward load to handle--and started to descend. He slipped on the first step, and in trying to regain his footing tripped himself, and tumbled, bumped, and rolled all the way to the bottom of the stairs.

The cloth kept along with him. At one time he was on the top of the roll, and at another it seemed to have the better of him. At any rate they stuck by each other, and landed well out on the floor side by side.

Jack Hickey indulged in a characteristic shout. All the employees in the room gathered around and laughed in a manner that must have been very tantalizing to one in Hanks' plight.

Just then Fred came in and joined the crowd. The old man saw him, and fire almost flashed from his eyes. His two front teeth, that so annoyed our hero by hanging loose and waving back and forth, now seemed to shake as if worked by an electric motor.

He picked himself up, white with rage, and parting company with his roll of cloth, rushed into his corner beneath the stairs beside the flockers.

The first object that caught his eye was Carl. Hanks rushed at him like a madman, and catching him around the throat, pushed him roughly against a hard iron frame and demanded to know why he dared to disobey his orders in telling what he had been forbidden to mention.

The little cripple cried out with fear and pain, injured as he was by Hanks' revengeful act. Fred had now made his way to the flockers, and the half stifled cry was the first intimation he had had of Carl's presence. He rushed at once to his assistance, and grappled with the boy's assailant.

A fierce struggle now ensued. Hanks' blood was up. He was almost like a wild man, and his strength was nearly doubled. At first our young friend was hardly a match for the maddened man. They rolled and tumbled, first one seeming to gain the supremacy and then the other.

The old man struggled desperately to win the contest. He struck Fred a telling blow on the nose that made the blood flow copiously and added horror to the scene. But this did not weaken our hero's courage. It rather strengthened his determination and purpose. The fire flashed from his eyes; all the force of his well trained physique was at his command, and with a powerful effort he hurled his antagonist to the floor and fell upon him.

Still the struggle went on, but soon Hanks' strength began to fail him, and when he felt himself overpowered by Fred's superior skill and strength he begged for mercy.

But he did not need to do this, as Fred would certainly much sooner have been severely punished himself than have struck his antagonist while down, however much contempt he might feel for him.

Jack Hickey and a few others now gathered around and interfered in the interest of peace. They saw that Fred had won the fight and was master of the situation. Each contestant was covered with blood, and presented a pitiable sight.

Just then Mr. Farrington happened to be passing through the room on his round of inspection, and attracted by those gathered at the flockers he hurried there also, to learn the cause of the excitement.

XXVII.

The overseer was amazed--could hardly believe his own eyes, when he saw the strange spectacle before him.

"What does this mean?" he asked sharply.

"I have been assaulted--brutally assaulted," whined Hanks.

"And you assaulted him?" he said sternly, turning to Fred.

"I have done nothing without good cause," replied Fred.

"See, he don't deny it," put in Hanks.

"No, I don't deny it, if defending a little cripple against your abuse and cruel treatment is an assault," answered our hero in a way that carried conviction to the overseer.

"Abuse and cruel treatment!" repeated Mr. Farrington.

"Yes; here is Carl. He can tell the story," replied our young friend.

"Why, my boy, are you sick? What makes you look so pale?" asked Mr. Farrington, with feeling, as Carl stepped toward him, hardly able to stand.

"I do feel a little faint," he said, catching hold of Fred's hand for support.

"Have you been injured by that man?" asked the kind hearted overseer, pointing with scorn at Hanks.

"Oh, I don't know why he did it. I didn't disobey him," replied the little cripple, with tears in his eyes.

The tone of his voice, his tears, and whole manner touched Mr. Farrington deeply.

"What did he do to you?" he asked.

Carl told the story in substance as I have already given it.

"I regret seriously that anything of this kind should have happened," said Mr. Farrington to our hero, "but I admire the spirit and bravery you have shown in defending this poor boy;" and turning to Hanks he gave him a withering rebuke, and discharged him on the spot. "Come to my desk," continued the indignant overseer, "and get a bill of your time, and never show your head in my department again."

Hanks saw that further argument would be of no use to him. He consequently gathered up his effects with as much celerity as possible, and after washing the blood stains from his face and hands, and casting upon Fred a parting glance of hatred and revenge, he left the room amid the jeers and taunts of all the workmen.

Fred found himself the hero of the hour. The news spread through the mill with almost incredible rapidity. His defense of the poor cripple touched the hearts of the operatives.