Meeting A School-Fellow.
Six months passed rapidly away. George continued to give satisfaction to Mr. Compton, soon learnt the office routine, and earned the warmest expressions of approbation from Mr. Sanders, who said he was the best junior clerk he ever remembered to have entered that office.
George had carefully guarded against forming any kind of intimacy with the other clerks; he had declined to have more to say to them during office hours than possible, and when business was over he purposely shunned them. But a strong friendship had sprung up between him and Charles Hardy; every morning they came to the city together, and returned in company in the evening. Sometimes George would spend an evening at the house of Hardy's parents, and Hardy, in like manner, would occasionally spend an evening with George.
Williams and Lawson had, as Hardy predicted, been a source of great annoyance to George. He was constantly obliged to bear their ridicule because he would not conform to their habits, and sometimes the insults he received were almost beyond his power of endurance. He and Hardy received the name of the "Siamese youths," and were generally greeted with such salutations as "How d'ye do? Is mamma pretty well?"—or something equally galling. But George bore it all with exemplary patience, and he did not doubt that after a while they would grow tired of annoying him. At all events, he felt certain some new policy would be adopted by them; for he had so risen in the estimation of his employer, who began to repose confidence in him, and entrust him with more important matters than he allowed the others to interfere with, that George anticipated the time when the clerks would either be glad to curry favour with him, or at least have to acknowledge that he was regarded more highly than they were.
So matters went on. Mrs. Weston was full of joy as she saw how well George had kept his resolutions, and full of hope that he would continue as he had begun.
Mr. Brunton had given him many kind encouragements during this time, and had felt himself well rewarded for all his trouble on George's behalf by hearing from Mr. Compton of the satisfaction his services had given.
And now an event occurred, simple and unimportant in itself, and yet it was one that affected the whole of George's after-life.
One evening, as he was leaving the office, and had just turned into Fleet-street, a nice-looking, fashionably-dressed young man came running up, and, clapping him on the shoulder, exclaimed,
"What! George Weston, my old pippin, who ever thought of turning you up in London!"
"Harry Ashton! my old school-chum, how are you?" and the two friends shook hands with a heartiness that surprised the passers-by.