CHAPTER II.
THE WAY OPENS.
The seed thus sown by Miss Drummond began to take root at once. Terrynow gave more thought to getting a chance to make a start in life thanhe did to having a good time. And here, as it happened, fortunefavoured him in a most unusual way. On the Saturday morning of theweek after the talk which had set him thinking, he was sitting at theend of the Long Wharf watching a big steamer making her way slowly upthe harbour. It being the noon hour, the wharf hands were all away atdinner, and the place was almost deserted.
Suddenly he was startled out of his reverie by the sound of hoofsbeating with alarming rapidity upon the resounding planks, and turninground he saw what caused him to spring to his feet with every nerve andmuscle athrill. Thundering down the wharf in blind and reckless flightcame Miss Drummond's pony, while in the carriage behind sat the owner,tugging desperately upon the reins, her face white and set with terror.
Acting upon the first impulse of the moment, Terry ran forward,shouting and waving his cap. Then, seeing that to be of no avail, hesprang at the maddened creature's head, hoping to seize the reins. Butby a quick swerve the pony eluded him, and the next moment plungedheadlong off the end of the wharf, dragging the carriage and itshelpless occupant after her. There was a piercing shriek, a splash, awhirl of seething foam, and then the clear green depths closed over all!
For the first moment, Terry, overcome by the startling suddenness ofthe accident, knew not how to act. Then the impulse to rescue welledup mightily in his breast, and at once he leaped into the disturbedwaters, which closed over his curly head.
Rising almost instantly to the surface, he looked eagerly about him,and caught sight of a hand thrust up in the agony of a struggle forlife. A few quick strokes brought him to it, and then, taking in thesituation intuitively, he swerved round so as to grasp Miss Drummond atthe neck. He had not spent his life about a wharf without learningsomething of the difficulty of dealing with drowning persons, and that,strong, expert swimmer as he was, he must not suffer those hands tofasten their frantic grip upon him, or it would mean death for both.
So, deftly avoiding the girl's wild clutch, he took good hold of herfrom the back, and saying beseechingly, "Keep ye still now, ma'am, andI'll save ye all right," shoved her through the water in the directionof the wharf. Happily she was a young woman of rare self-possession.As soon as she felt Terry's firm hand her terror gave way to trust.She ceased her vain strugglings, and committed herself to her rescuer.Otherwise, indeed, the poor boy could hardly have been equal to thetask. As it was, his strength just lasted until he reached the firstrow of barnacle-covered spiles; pressing Miss Drummond up to which hehoarsely directed her--"Take good hold of that now, ma'am, and I'llyell for somebody."
But he did not need to yell twice. Already helpers had gathered abovethem, and were shouting down words of encouragement; and a moment latera boat darted round the corner of the wharf, propelled by eager oarsmen.
On being lifted carefully in, Miss Drummond, yielding to the reaction,fainted for the moment; whereat Terry, who had never seen a woman faintbefore, set up a wail of grief, thinking she must be dead.
"_On being lifted carefully in, Miss Drummond faintedfor the moment._"]
"Oh, the dear lady's dead!" he cried. "Ye must be getting a doctorquick."
But the others reassured him, and to his vast delight the blue eyesopened again to give him a look of inexpressible gratitude ere the boattouched the landing-steps.
Here Mr. Drummond, pale and trembling, the first thrill of numbinghorror having just given place to ecstatic joy, awaited them. Theinstant the boat was within reach he sprang into it, and, regardless ofher dripping garments, clasped his daughter to his breast, kissing heragain and again, while his quivering lips murmured, "My darling, mydarling! God be thanked for your rescue!"
Releasing herself gently from his arms, Miss Drummond reached out herhand for Terry, who was just scrambling awkwardly ashore.
"Don't forget to thank him too, father," she said, with a meaning smile.
Thus reminded, Mr. Drummond, blushing at the excess of feeling whichhad caused him to forget everything save that his only daughter, thejoy and pride of his life, had been saved from death, laid hold ofTerry, and drew him back into the boat, where, taking both the boy'shands in his, he said in tones of deep emotion,--
"My boy, you have done my daughter and me a service we can neveradequately repay. But all that grateful hearts can do we will not failto do. Tell me your name and where you live."
Poor Terry was so abashed at being thus addressed by the great Mr.Drummond that his tongue refused its office. But one of the bystanderscame to his relief.
"Sure and he's Black Mike's son, sur, and he lives up Blind Alley," wasthe information volunteered.
Accepting it as though it came from Terry himself, Mr. Drummond, givingthe boy's hands another grateful shake, said,--
"Thank you. You will hear from me before the day ends."
Then taking his daughter by the arm, he continued,--
"Come now, darling; we must make all haste up to my office, and seewhat can be done for you."
Not until she stepped upon the wharf did Miss Drummond remember herpony. Then the question as to what had become of it flashed into hermind, and she turned to look down the wharf, exclaiming,--
"Oh, but my pony! Poor, dear Dolly! What's become of her?"
"Never mind the pony, dear," said Mr. Drummond; "the men will lookafter her. Come, come; you'll catch your death of cold staying outhere in your dripping clothes."
Somewhat reluctantly Miss Drummond obeyed. Reassuringly though herfather had spoken, she had misgivings as to her pony's fate--misgivingswhich were in fact only too well founded; for, dragged to the bottom bythe weight of the carriage, the poor creature had been drowned in spiteof its desperate struggles.
When the Drummonds disappeared, Terry found himself the centre of acircle of admirers, each of whom sought in his own way to giveexpression to his admiration and envy.
"Sure and your fortune's made this day, Terry, me boy," said thestoreman, who wished in his heart that he had been lucky enough torescue his employer's daughter. "Mr. Drummond's not the man to forgithis word; and didn't he say he'd do anything in the world for ye?"
But Terry's triumph was complete when the appearance of his fatherlounging sullenly back to work, with a short clay pipe between histeeth, was hailed with shouts from the crowd of,--
"Mike! Mike! come here wid ye, till we tell ye what yer boy's beendoin'. Oh, but you're the lucky man to have a boy like Terry!"
Without a change in his dark countenance, or a quickening of his step,Black Mike drew near, and silently awaited explanations. When thematter was made clear to him, his face did brighten a little; butwhether it was with pride at his son's achievement, or selfish pleasureat the prospect of the benefits that might accrue from it, the keenestobserver would have been puzzled to say.
He managed, however, to get out something that more closely approachedpraise than anything Terry had ever heard from his lips before, andthis delighted the boy so that he had to execute a few steps of hisfavourite clog dance to relieve his feelings. Then, bethinking himselfthat he had stayed long enough inside his uncomfortably wet clothing,he raced up the wharf, and made for his home in Blind Alley.
Here his mother received him with a shower of questions, in theanswering of which he found rare delight.
"Me blessed boy!" the excited woman exclaimed, her feelings strangelydivided betwixt horror at the thought of the risk her son had run andjoy at its successful issue. "It's proud I am of you this day. Nodoubt but ye'll be your mother's comfort."
"And make ye ride in a carriage with glass sides, eh, mother?" saidTerry with a merry twinkle in his eye.
"Ah! now don't be talking such foolishness, Terry," returned Mrs.Ahearn, in a tone that implied to do so was tempting Providenceperchance. "If your old mother has only a bit and sup sure to the endof her days, and
a decent gown to put on, she'll be content enoughwithout the carriage."
That afternoon Mr. Drummond picked his way carefully through the perilsof Blind Alley to the grimy tenement where the Ahearns abode, andinquired for Terry. The latter, having exchanged his wet garments forthe only others his scanty wardrobe contained, had gone down again toLong Wharf; so, after exchanging a few kind words with his mother, Mr.Drummond followed him thither, saying to himself, as he cautiouslystepped from stone to stone, for the alley was little better than amere muddy gutter, "The boy must be detached from these surroundings ifanything is to be made of him. And he has a bright face. He ought tohave good stuff in him. Certainly he shall have a fair trial at myhands, for I owe him more than money can repay."
On reaching his office, Mr. Drummond sent one of the clerks out to huntTerry up, and presently he returned with the lad in tow, looking verybashful and ill at ease. He was attired in his "Sunday best," andboasted a face and hands of unwonted cleanliness. The merchant gavehim a warm greeting, and made him sit down in a chair in front of him,while he scanned his countenance closely.
"My dear boy," said he after a pause, and seeming well satisfied withthe result of his inspection, "as I have already told you, I feel thatI am indebted to you for a service the worth of which cannot be putdown in money; and it is not by offering you money that I would provemy gratitude. The money would be soon spent, leaving you no better,and possibly worse, than before it was given you. No; you have savedmy daughter's life, and in return I want to save yours, though in asomewhat different way. Look me straight in the eyes, please."
For the first time since he had entered Mr. Drummond's presence Terrylifted his big brown eyes, and looked full into his face, his frecklesbeing submerged in the warm flush that swept over his face as he did so.
"Ah!" said Mr. Drummond, "I was not mistaken. Your face gives warrantof many good qualities that you've had small chance to develop thusfar. It will be my privilege and pleasure to give you the opportunitycircumstances have hitherto denied you. How would you like to go to anice school?"
Terry had been listening with eager attention and brighteningcountenance; but at the mention of the word "school" his face suddenlyfell, and from the restless twitching of his body it was very evidentthat the idea had no attraction for him at all.
Mr. Drummond's keen eye did not fail to note the effect of hisquestion, and without stopping to argue the point he promptly putanother.
"Well, then, how would you like to be taken into my office and taughtto be a clerk?"
Instantly the boy's face burst into bloom, so to speak, and giving themerchant a look which said as plain as words, "I hope you really meanit," he exclaimed,--
"Sure, sir, an' it's now ye're talkin'."
Mr. Drummond could not suppress a smile at Terry's quaint phrase thatwent so straight to the mark.
"You shall have your own way then," he responded in his pleasantesttone, "and you may begin as soon as you like. Let me just say this toyou, my boy," he continued, drawing Terry towards him with one hand,and placing the other on his shoulder. "I want to be your friend forlife. You can always rely upon that. But I cannot do for you what youalone can do for yourself. You will meet with many trials andtemptations that you will have to fight all by yourself. I will at alltimes be glad to give you the best counsel I can. But in the end youmust make your own way. No one else can make it for you. By beingfaithful to my interests, Terry, you will most surely advance your own.Never forget that. And now, good-bye for the present. Mr. Hobart inthe outer office has some business to do with you right away, and Iwill look for you bright and early on Monday morning."
Rather relieved at the interview being over, and feeling as though hewould have to go prancing and shouting down the whole length of LongWharf to give vent to his delight at what Mr. Drummond had said, Terryslipped out of the merchant's sanctum, and found a pleasant-lookingyoung man evidently awaiting him in the office.
"Come in here, Terry," said he, "and tell us your good-luck."
In the fulness of his heart Terry was only too glad to find aconfidant, and without reserve he related all that had been said, aswell as he could remember it.
"Phew!" whistled the clerk. "You've got on the right side of the oldman, and no mistake. No putting you off with a sovereign and aparagraph in the papers. Whatever he says goes, I can tell you. Comealong now; I'm to have the pleasure of making a swell out of you."
In some bewilderment as to Mr. Hobart's meaning, Terry obedientlyaccompanied him up to Granville Street, where they entered agentleman's outfitting establishment, before whose broad plate-glasswindows the boy had often stood in covetous appreciation of the finethings so dexterously displayed therein. With an air of easyself-possession that Terry profoundly admired, Mr. Hobart called upon abrilliantly-arrayed clerk to show them their ready-made clothing. Theywent into the rear part of the shop, and then the purpose of theircoming was made clear.
"You're to have a complete outfit of good clothes, Terry," said Mr.Hobart. "And Mr. Drummond, knowing my good taste in such matters, hasput the business in my hands, so you'll please be good enough toentirely approve of my selections."
His manner was so kind and pleasant that Terry felt as though there washardly anything on earth that he would not have been willing to do forhim, let alone approving of the benefactions he was the instrument ofbestowing.
"Indeed that I will, sir," he responded, with a warmth that made theclerk smile in such a patronizing way that Mr. Hobart cut him short bysaying curtly,--
"Well, then, let me see something in the way of pepper-and-salt tweeds."
So the work of fitting Terry out began. Mr. Hobart seemed no lessparticular than if he were choosing the various articles for his ownwardrobe. He had _carte-blanche_ from Mr. Drummond, and the matter ofcheapness was not to be taken into account. It all seemed like abeautiful dream to Terry. A fine suit of clothes, that fitted him asthough they had been cut to order; a pair of scarlet braces with brightbrass clasps such as his heart had often vainly hungered for; threegood flannel shirts for week-day wear, and three lovely linen ones forSabbaths; a sheaf of collars and a roll of cuffs; and, finally, to topit all, a hard felt hat, the like of which had never before been on hishead;--one after another were these fine feathers procured, and themoney for them paid down from a bundle of notes which Terry, in hisignorance of money in that form, thought must contain at least athousand pounds.
It took over an hour to complete the business, Mr. Hobart evidentlyenjoying it in no small degree himself. At last, however, he seemedsatisfied with his work, and giving Terry a friendly clap on the back,he said,--
"There, now; you're qualified to be a credit to Drummond and Brown'soffice, so far as appearance goes at all events. You can trot alonghome now. They'll send the things there for you."
Eager to tell his mother of the wonders of the day, Terry darted off,and in a few minutes was at home in Blind Alley. With manyexclamations of gratitude to the "blessed saints," and many interjectedquestions, did Mrs. Ahearn listen to his wonderful story; and when theparcels arrived, she spread out their contents upon the bed and fellupon her knees before them. For many years her life had known butscant rays of sunshine, and this sudden outburst almost overwhelmedher. With trembling fingers she gently touched the different articles,as though to assure herself that her eyes were not playing her false.Then rising to her feet again, her eyes streaming and lips quivering,she threw her arms around Terry and hugged him to her heart.
With a mother's fond prescience she grasped the fact that in him, andin him alone, had she hope of redress for the sorrows which had sodeeply shadowed her life. Terry's chance had come, and his future andhers depended upon the way in which he availed himself of it.