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Updated: May 29, 2025
He watched for several minutes in silence until Gedge, considering he had exhibited his agility sufficiently, halted in his work, and with a passing shade across his face turned to his companion and said, "I say, isn't this a beastly place?" There was something in his voice and manner which struck Reginald. It was unlike a common workman, and still more unlike a boy of Gedge's size and age.
Reginald passed close to his table, in order to give him an opportunity of coming to the point at once; but to his surprise the overseer took no apparent notice of him, and allowed him to go to his place and begin work as usual. "I'd sooner see him tearing his hair than grinning like that," said young Gedge, in a whisper. "You may be sure there's something in the wind."
Gedge, under whose imposing auspices Reginald was to begin his typographical career, was a diminutive youth who, to all outward appearances, was somewhere about the tender age of fourteen, instead of, as was really the case, being almost as old as Reginald himself.
"I've never heard anything more blasphemous and horrible," she exclaimed, moving to her end of the bench. "Putting yourself in the position of the Almighty! Oh!" she flung out her hand. "Don't speak to me." In spite of the atheistical Gedge, Phyllis believed in God and Jesus Christ and the Ten Commandments.
He had not spirit or resolution enough to wait to see Gedge or any one that evening, but slunk away, hating the sight of everybody, and wishing only he could lose himself and forget that such a wretch as Reginald Cruden existed. Ah! Reginald. It's a long race to escape from oneself. Men have tried it before now with better reason than you, and failed.
To his mother, and even to young Gedge, he said nothing of his misgivings, but to Horace, as the two lay awake that night, he made a clean breast of all. "You'll call me a fool, I suppose," he said; "but how could I help it?" "A fool! Why, Reg, I know I should have done the same. But for all that, it is unlucky." "It is.
"I know what you mean," he said. "And I didn't come to discuss it if you'll excuse my apparent rudeness in saying so." "Then things are as they were between us." "Not quite, I hope," he replied in a dignified way. "When last you spoke to me about Phyllis Gedge, I really didn't know my own mind. I am not a cad and the thought of of anything wrong never entered my head.
"About Gedge " again her brow darkened and her lips set stiffly "do you think he has his knife into young Randall Holmes?" I had worried about the boy. Naturally, if Gedge found the relations between his daughter and Randall unsatisfactory, no one could blame him for any outbreak of parental indignation.
"Going home?" "Yes, I'm going home," said young Gedge. "I heard from my brother yesterday. He was asking after you." "Was he?" said the boy half-sarcastically. "He does remember my name, then?" "Whatever do you mean? Of course he does," said Horace. "You know that well enough."
Let the boy alone, do you hear?" added he, addressing Reginald, "and take yourself off. Come along, Gedge." "Gedge is not going with you," said Reginald, keeping the boy's arm in his; "he's coming with me, aren't you, young 'un?" The boy pressed his arm gratefully, but made no reply. This was all Mr Durfy wanted to fill up the vials of his wrath.
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