But his good luck, which had never failed since those two sovereigns got him out of the difficulty, came to his aid now. He was able to get his little girl into a capital school, where she would be educated and trained for domestic service, and he felt it was the best thing for her to grow up like that under proper control, and with good people; and, though he felt parting with her very much, he was glad to think she would be so well cared for, and get such a good start in life.
When he had said good-bye to his little girl, and taken her to the school, which was a little way out of London, he felt that he was really making a fresh start. He went to his place, and was there till the house was given up as an hotel and turned into something else, and then, with a good character, he went to another place as outdoor man, and it was from this place that Harry, who had heard of him when he was inquiring for a trustworthy man, took him, and he came to us.
I didn’t know all his story at first, because he didn’t know it himself then. The most wonderful part of it happened after he was with us.
I knew he must make a good bit of money, because most of the visitors gave him something when they left, as he put their luggage on to the fly if they had one, and if they didn’t he wheeled it up to the station; and as he never drank, and was very careful, and hardly seemed to spend anything, I wondered what he was doing with his money.
But one day he told me that he was putting it all in the bank, and saving it, so that he might have a good home for his little girl when she was old enough to come home; and if she went into service, then it would be for her when he died or when she married.
“And you know, sometimes, ma’am,” he said, “I think that I may hear of my wife again. I often lie awake at night and wonder what’s become of her, and then the thought will come into my head that we may come together again. God’s mercy is very wonderful, and He brings strange things to pass. Oh, if I could only find her, and have my home again, as it used to be!”
“Poor fellow!” I said to myself; “he will go on thinking that all his life, and it will never happen.”
I thought so much of poor Tom Dexter and his story that I told Harry all about it, and while I was telling him, Mr. Wilkins was in the parlour. Somehow or other Mr. Wilkins had never taken to Tom—he was the only person about the place that hadn’t; but, after all, it was only human nature, because we had taken Tom on instead of somebody Mr. Wilkins wanted to recommend after Dashing Dick had turned out so dreadfully.
Harry said it was a very sad story, and he felt very sorry for Tom, and was glad he had got hold of him; but Mr. Wilkins was nasty, and said, he dare say that it was six of one and half-a-dozen of the other, for it was generally the husband’s fault if the wife turned out badly.
I defended Tom heartily, and Mr. Wilkins and me had a few words, because he presumes a little sometimes. What put me out was his saying that he thought I’d better not put Tom’s story in my book, as very likely it was all a pack of lies. That made me say I knew very well what to put in my book without Mr. Wilkins’s advice, and one thing led to another, till Mr. Wilkins put on his hat and coat and went off in a huff; but not before he had been very objectionable about the Scotch whiskey, trying to make out it was not as good as usual, and talking about his having noticed that the spirits were of an inferior quality lately.