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Soon a head appeared, and Clayton called out, in a sleepy voice: "I dreamt it was all a joke; but wait a bit, and we will talk it over." Miss Marston entered the untidy studio, where the debris of a month's fruitless efforts strewed the floor. Bits of clay and carving-tools, canvases hurled face downward in disgust and covered with paint-rags, lay scattered about.
Henry came in, and the young lady received him with a manner very different from that she had worn down at the works. She was polite, but rather stiff and dignified. He sat down at her request, and, wondering at himself, entered on the office of preceptor. He took up the carving-tools, and explained the use of several; then offered, by way of illustration, to work on something.
This Cheetham was an able man, and said to himself, "I'll nail him for Hillsborough, directly. London mustn't have a hand that can beat us at anything in our line." He found Henry out, and offered him constant employment, as a forger and cutler of carving-tools, at L4 per week. Henry's black eyes sparkled, but he restrained himself. "That's to be thought of. I must speak to my old lady.
I have no sub-editor; no staff; I carry the whole journal on my head. Every day is a hard race between Time and me, and not a minute to spare." Mr. Cheetham was expected at the works this afternoon: so Henry, on leaving Mr. Holdfast, returned to them, and found him there with Bayne, looking, disconsolately, over a dozen orders for carving-tools. "Glad to see you again, my lad," said Cheetham.
They had long daily gazed at Ulm in the distance, hoping to behold the spire completed; and the illustrations in their mother's books excited a strong desire to imitate them. The floor had often been covered with charcoal outlines even before Christina was persuaded to impart the rules she had learnt from her uncle; and her carving-tools were soon seized upon.
Little waited till The Liberal had received its meed of approbation, and then asked respectfully if he might speak to Mr. Jobson on a trade matter. "Certainly," said Mr. Jobson. "Who are you?" "My name is Little. I make the carving-tools at Cheetham's." "I'll go home with you; my house is hard by."
"Well, dear, when you come back, your instructions shall be written, and your bag packed." "I say, mother, you are going into it in earnest. All the better for me." At twelve he started for London, with a beautiful set of carving-tools in his bag, and his mother's instructions in his pocket: those instructions sent him to a fashionable tailor that very afternoon.
"Just look at these," said Cheetham. Little colored: he saw the finger of the Unions at once, and bristled all over with caution and hostility. "I see them, sir. They are very fair specimens of cutlery; and there are only about twenty tools wanting to make a complete set; but there is one defect in them as carving-tools." "What is that?" "They are useless. You can't carve wood with them.
"Well, I won't, to please you. But you have no more pluck than a chicken begging your pardon, mother." "No, dear," said Mrs. Little, humbly, quite content to gain her point and lose her reputation for pluck; if any. Henry worked regularly, and fast, and well, and in less than a fortnight a new set of his carving-tools were on view in Hillsborough, and another in London; for it was part of Mr.
At the second glass he so far forgot himself as to utter the phrase "Eternal friendship," and, soon after, he began to writhe in his chair, and, at last, could no longer refrain himself, but told Henry that Miss Carden had been canvassing customers. She had just sent in six orders for sets of carving-tools, all for friends of her own.
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