A brighter prospect rose before the poor lad's eyes, a possibility of peace and love, ay, perhaps of comfort too; for wasn't he in work now? and their mother would be more free to do what she could. So, with bright anticipations and a firm confidence in a Heavenly Father's love and care, the boys lay down to forget in sleep their sorrows and their joys.
[CHAPTER IX.]
JASPER'S PROMISE.
NEW YEAR'S DAY, and the fog which for nearly a week had hovered, more or less, over Helmstone had lifted, and bright sunshine came in its stead, as if to give promise of brighter days in store, during the new untrodden year. So at least it seemed to Phil as he started out fresh and early to go to his work. He was quite settled at Mr. Cross's now, and was giving every satisfaction.
"An uncommonly sharp boy; dependable too," was his master's opinion; "and if he sticks to me, I'll stick to him, and make a man of him before I've done."
The day before, when Phil had asked for some time "off," to go to his father's funeral, Mr. Cross had a talk with the lad, and learned more of his history then; for, now that Mellor was dead, Phil felt less afraid to talk about him. Before, there was always a dread lest anything he might say should lead to suspicion or possible detection; for he knew well enough that his father's life would not bear inspection. But now there was no fear.
On the last day of the old year he, with his mother and Rob, had stood by the open grave, and seen the body of Stephen Mellor laid in its last resting-place. A dreary time it had been, up there on that exposed bleak portion of the cemetery known as the paupers' ground, amid a drizzling rain and fog, to stand the only mourners, shivering and silent. Yet hardly sorrowful, as the husband and father was committed to the earth, there to await the resurrection morning.
Therefore Phil had talked more freely to Mr. Cross, and told him some of the difficulties and hardships of his young life, and at the same time, filled with hope, had spoken on the future he longed for, until his master almost smiled at the strange mixture of childish expectations and manly common-sense.
"And so you're going to keep the family now on your six shillings a week, are you?" he said, when Phil had finished.
"No, sir, not on that; but you see mother will do a little now, and after I leave here of an evening, I often pick up something carrying parcels; and then, before I come here of a morning, I earn twopence a day and my breakfast for cleaning boots and knives at a house near, where Mr. Armstrong spoke for me; and then you see, sir, God is bound to provide for us, because mother is a widow, and Rob and I are fatherless. I don't quite know how we are going to get all we want; but I'm sure that we shall. It's the clothes are the trouble; rent and food I can manage, and mother says I can get a deal more for my money than she can; only, you see, clothes cost such a lot. But I'm not afraid, and perhaps some day, sir, I shall be your shopman instead of your errand boy (for I mean to stay with you, Mr. Cross); and then when I'm dressed so respectably, you'll forget how shabby poor little Phil Mellor was."