He pressed Hal's hand and left the house.
A week passed and found Hal in lodgings in the town, for Mr. Marchant's house had been sold, and, to Hal's relief, it was ascertained that not a penny was owing to any man.
"Now for myself," he said as he sat over the fire. "What to do is the question."
There was a knock at the door, and Mr. Tomkins put his head into the room. "Hallo!" he said. "Do you feel inclined for a chat?"
"Yes; come in. I'm wondering what to do with myself."
"And so am I," was the answer. "That is, I'm wondering what would be good for you. How about the foundry? Will you stick to it?"
"On no account," Hal replied. "I could not bear to go there now. In fact, I mean to leave Birmingham, for it would bring back these last few days every time I passed the old home. I must work, and pay my way, for at present I possess fifteen pounds and a few suits of clothes; that is all."
"I thought you'd not go back to the works," said Mr. Tomkins. "I've been there boy and man these twenty years, and I've risen to be manager. But I am leaving with my old master, for I cannot fancy the new. I'm lucky, too, for I've accepted the post of manager to another foundry in the north. Come along with me, and I'll see that you get something good."
Hal thanked him, and thought the matter over before answering.
"I scarcely know what to say," he said. "But I am determined to leave Birmingham. I couldn't stand it."