It was this cause of irritation, most likely, which prevented his dwelling too critically on the substance of the circular so affectionately dedicated to the poor country clergy. Beyond vaguely wondering where the Corporation kept their “bankrupt” stock of clothing, and how by the unaided light of nature they were to decide whether their applicants were stout or lean, or tall or short, he dismissed the matter from his mind for the time being, and made as short work as possible of the remainder of the task.
Then he wrote a short line home, announcing his arrival in as cheerful words as he could muster, and walked out to post it. The pavements were thronged with a crowd of jostling men and women, returning home from the day’s work; but among them all the boy felt more lonely than had he been the sole inhabitant of Liverpool. Nobody knew him, nobody looked at him, nobody cared two straws about him. So he dropped his letter dismally into the box, and turned back to Shy Street, where at least there was one human being who knew his name and heeded his voice.
Master Love had made the most of his opportunities. He had lit a candle and stuck it into the mouth of an ink-bottle, and by its friendly light was already deep once more in the history of his hero.
“Say, what’s yer name,” said he, looking up as Reginald re-entered, “this here chap” as scuttled a ship, and drowned twenty on ’em. ’E was a cute ’un, and no error. He rigs hisself up as a carpenter, and takes a tile off the ship’s bottom just as the storm was a-coming on; and in corse she flounders and all ’ands.”
“And what became of him?” asked Reginald.
“Oh, in corse he stows hisself away in the boat with a lifebelt, and gets washed ashore; and he kills a tiger for ’is breakfast, and—”
“It’s a pity you waste your time over bosh like that,” said Reginald, not interested to hear the conclusion of the heroic Tim’s adventures; “if you’re fond of reading, why don’t you get something better?”
“No fear—I like jam; don’t you make no error, governor.”
With which philosophical albeit enigmatical conclusion he buried his face once more in his hands, and immersed himself in the literary “jam” before him.
Reginald half envied him as he himself sat listless and unoccupied during that gloomy evening. He did his best to acquaint himself, by the aid of papers and circulars scattered about the room, with the work that lay before him. He made a careful tour of the premises, with a view to possible alterations and improvements. He settled in his own mind where the directors’ table should stand, and in which corner of the private room he should establish his own desk. He went to the length of designing a seal for the Corporation, and in scribbling, for his own amusement, the imaginary minutes of an imaginary meeting of the directors. How would this do?