Mr. Cross paused. He did want a boy just then. "Is there anybody knows you?" he said.
"Oh yes, sir; Mr. Forbes, the policeman, and Mr. Jasper up at the shed in Preece's Place."
The man smiled at Phil's two references. "Known to the police, eh?" he said.
"And there's Mr. Armstrong, sir, my teacher up at the Mission Hall in John Street, he can tell you all about me, and he lives up in Sydney Square."
"Mr. Armstrong the lawyer? I know him. Well, you can call round to-morrow morning at nine o'clock, and then I'll see what I can do for you, if he gives you a good character; but you must tidy yourself up a bit."
Phil looked despondent. "I'm afraid I can't, sir; these are all the clothes I have, and mother sat up last night mending them; but of course, if you take me on, sir—" and his face brightened at the thought—"I shall soon be able to buy some, and then I'll look respectable." And away he bounded in high spirits, confident that Mr. Armstrong would speak well of him. He was not mistaken, Mr. Armstrong's recommendation was good indeed.
"I believe he's perfectly straightforward and genuine, Mr. Cross; I've known him for nearly three years, and have never found him out in the smallest deception. His surroundings have been of the worst, but amidst all the lad has been kept true and honest; and I don't believe you'll ever regret taking him; and I should be glad to know he had work."
And so the next morning, when Phil presented himself punctually at nine o'clock, with face and hands as clean as soap and water could make them, the foreman met him with the welcome news that Mr. Cross would give him a trial, and he was set to work at once; sorting old newspapers, of which, to Phil's astonished eyes, there seemed to be thousands in that large warehouse behind the shop.
And so some good had come out of Stephen Mellor's accident; for thereby the boy was rescued from the dangers of a life in the streets, and taken into good regular employment.