"We won't put it all by, Bill. I think the other will be enough. This four shillings a week we will put aside at present for clothes. We want two more shirts apiece, and some more stockings, and we shall want some shoes before long, and another suit of clothes each. We must keep ourselves decent, you know."
From the time when they began work the boys had gone regularly every Sunday morning to a small iron church near their lodging, and they also went to an evening service once a week. Their talk, too, at home was often on religion, for Bill was extremely anxious to learn, and although his questions and remarks often puzzled George to answer, he was always ready to explain things as far as he could.
February came, and to George's delight he heard, from his mother that she was so much better that the doctor thought that when she came out at the end of April she would be as strong as she had ever been. Her eyes had benefited greatly by her long rest, and she said that she was sure she should be able to do work as before. She had written several times since they had been at Limehouse, expressing her great pleasure at hearing that George was so well and comfortable. At Christmas, the works being closed for four days, George had gone down to see her, and they had a delightful talk together. Christmas had indeed been a memorable occasion to the boys, for on Christmas Eve the carrier had left a basket at Grimstone's directed "George Andrews." The boys had prepared their Christmas dinner, consisting of some fine rashers of bacon and sixpenny-worth of cold plum pudding from a cook-shop, and had already rather lamented this outlay, for Mrs. Grimstone had that afternoon invited them to dine downstairs. George was reading from a book which he bought for a penny that morning when there was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Grimstone said:
"Here is a hamper for you, George."
"A hamper for me!" George exclaimed in astonishment, opening the door. "Why, whoever could have sent a hamper for me! It must be a mistake."
"That's your name on the direction, anyhows," Mrs. Grimstone said.
"Yes, that's my name, sure enough," George agreed, and at once began to unknot the string which fastened down the lid.
"Here is a Christmas card at the top!" he shouted. He turned it over. On the back were the words:
"With all good wishes, Helen Penrose."
"Well, that is kind," George said in rather a husky voice; and indeed it was the kindness that prompted the gift rather than the gift itself that touched him.