"Go," said he, "I have no time to talk now;" and when he came back Deasy was gone, to his great contentment.
That evening, when the men left work, Roger unfolded his plan to his friend Sparling, who pronounced it a good one, but said that if it did not succeed, Roger was to write to him at an address in Birmingham, and he would get a friend to answer the letter and send him money to come to Birmingham, where he thought so handy a fellow would surely get work.
Among the other men, particularly the younger ones, Roger's decision about his place was much spoken of, some calling it an act of folly, some admiring it. Avery told his wife privately that he was rather glad, for that one saint was enough! But between Sparling and Roger very little was said on the subject. Very unlike in most things, they were alike in this—they were honestly in earnest in their endeavour to be like their Master. To Sparling, Roger's act seemed natural under the circumstances, though he was sorry that the lad had exchanged a certainty for a chance. In a few days the workmen returned to Birmingham, and Roger was left alone.
At first, he felt very lonely, but he was soon far too busy to think about it, though he missed Jack Sparling very much, and regretted greatly that his friend could not write. He began to carry out his cherished plan at once. In fact, the first day that the train began to run regularly between Kingsmore and Sandsea, Roger, with a huge basket filled with fine fish, was one of the first third-class passengers. He saw with satisfaction that none of the owners of the original baskets and carts seemed to have thought of leaving their old beats.
He had found out that no fish was brought to Kingsmore regularly, and, to use his own words, "to be first in the field was half the battle, and this was a fine chance." First in the field he surely was; and before one o'clock he had sold every fish in his basket at good prices. And he returned to Sandsea, to be ready for the morning boats, a proud and happy lad.
"If I could only tell Jack!" he said.
And now time passed rapidly with Roger for though his work was not exactly hard, it required him to be always on the alert, and to be at the place where the boats came in very early. After a time, others set up baskets to convey fish to Kingsmore, finding the prices there better than at Sandsea. Then, indeed, Roger had a rather anxious time for they tried to undersell him; but after a few days, he found that most of his customers waited for him, saying that he always gave them good fish, and never tried to cheat. He went on making money steadily; in fact, his savings presently amounted to so considerable a sum that his common sense told him he ought not to carry it about with him, even though he had sewed it up in a piece of stout leather, and the leather in a piece of calico, and wore it tied to a piece of cord round his neck.
All this time Roger attended church regularly at Sandsea, where he always slept and spent his Sundays. He now rented the room he had once shared with Sparling; and here he kept his few belongings and his Bible, which he still studied, and still longed to understand better. Many a kind action too, known only to himself and those he helped, Roger did; and Jack Sparling would have felt satisfied if he could have seen how the lad he was so fond of was living.
But Roger, a far more intelligent fellow than Jack, felt his ignorance weigh very heavily on him, and often longed for "a chance" of learning many things—to understand his Bible, to write a fair hand, and to learn arithmetic. He was clever at figures, and could calculate the price of a fish when he sold by weight, well enough; but as he aspired to rise in life, he felt that he ought to know how to keep accounts.
A year and some months went by, and Roger began to feel sure that he could sell more fish than he could carry, even if the basket were yet woven of willow that would contain them: in fact, he knew, to use his own words, that he was losing chances, and to lose a chance went to his heart.