“Ah, you’ll see. You don’t mean to stop here, do you, and be bullied and knocked about?”
I went on writing and thinking of how dearly I should have liked to go somewhere else, for my life was very miserable with Mr Dempster; but I always felt as if it would be cowardly to give up, and I had stayed on, though that day’s experience was very like those which had gone before.
We had both finished our tasks an hour before Mr Dempster returned, nearly an hour after closing time, and even then he spent a long time in criticising the writing and finding fault, concluding by ordering Esau to go round with the catalogue he had made out to the printer’s.
“There’s a master for you!” cried my fellow-clerk, as we went up into the main street. “I shan’t stand it. I’m going for a soldier.”
I laughed.
“Ah, you may grin at what I say, but wait a bit. Going home?”
“No,” I said, “I shall walk round with you to the printer’s.”
He gave me a quick bright look, and his manner changed as if, once free of the office, he felt boy-like and happy. He whistled, hummed over bits of songs, and chatted about the various things we passed, till we had been at the printer’s, and then had to retrace our steps so as to cross Blackfriars Bridge, and reach Camberwell, where in a narrow street off the Albany Road Esau’s mother rented a little house, working hard with her needle to produce not many shillings a week, which were supplemented by her boy’s earnings, and the amount I paid for my bed, breakfast, and tea.
It was my fellow-clerk’s proposal that I should join them, and I had good cause to be grateful, the place being delightfully clean, and little, quaint, homely Mrs Dean looking upon me as a lodger who was to be treated with the greatest of respect.
“Shan’t go for a soldier to-night!” said Esau, throwing himself back in his chair, after we had finished our tea.