"What time do the people go to bed here?" he asked, as he returned to his cousin.
"Why, not yet for a long time."
"They all look as if it was the middle of the day, and in Westbrook every one was at home and quiet after tea."
Clarice laughed. "You will see a great difference here, Owen."
The next morning his uncle told him he must set to work, and gave him some employment at once, quite to Owen"s satisfaction, for he did not care to be idle. It was a new thing to be busy about a shop, but he liked the change. It had been arranged that he should serve his uncle for the first three months without payment, only getting his board and lodging; but after that, if he proved capable, his uncle promised him a small salary.
"Of course you will have to buy your clothes out of it. But if you really wish to make your fortune, take my advice, never spend more than you can help! Save up all you can, and never buy anything you can possibly do without."
Owen promised obedience, and threw his whole heart into his work. Poor lad, he seemed in danger of forgetting his father"s advice, and the unworldly lessons he had learnt in earlier days, as he made haste to be rich. For no one in his uncle"s household seemed to think of anything beyond this present life. His uncle was somewhat strict with him, though on the whole he treated him kindly, while his aunt was very cool and stern. But Clarice was very fond of her young cousin, and whenever she could obtain her father"s consent, would take him out with her, and walk along the river-side, or round the docks, where the boy never ceased to wonder at the new and strange things he saw.
Among the men and boys employed in the shop, Owen was much attracted by a young errand-boy, about his own age, whom everybody called "David,"
and he soon made friends with him. David was very obliging, and always willing to help Owen any way he could, which was not the case with Norris, one of the young men, who seemed to take a delight in thwarting and hindering him.
One day when David had some extra heavy parcels to carry, Owen was sent out with him, and as they walked along, he asked him his surname.
"David Netherclift," he replied.
"What!" said Owen, "Netherclift, did you say?"
"Yes, why not?"
"Why, Sam Netherclift was my greatest friend down home. It is funny you should have the same name."
"Where is your home?"
"At Westbrook, near Allenbury; a long way from here."
"Westbrook? I have often heard my father speak of it; his brother lives there. I expect Sam is my cousin. I"ll ask father."
"Oh, do. Does your father live near here?"
"Not far off. But we must not go there now."
"Why not?"
"Because this is the time for work. Father says it is as bad as stealing to take my master"s time for my own use. I"ll ask him all about it to-night, and tell you in the morning."
"I expect your father is something like mine was," said Owen; "he was so good, and never let me do wrong if he could help it."
"Is he dead?" asked David.
"Yes, he died some time ago. If he had been alive I should not be here, for I would never have left him."
When the boys returned to the shop, they were both set busily to work, and had no time for further conversation. But next day David found opportunity to say, "Sam is my cousin, and father says he hopes you will come and see him some day; he would like to hear about Westbrook."
Owen was getting rapidly initiated into business habits, and being a quick, intelligent boy, did not often want telling twice how to do a thing, so that his uncle regarded him with favour, and at times allowed him to help Clarice in the counting-house when she was extra busy. The boy missed the country life, the long walks, the skating, the thousand pleasures of unfettered rural life, and he sometimes wished he could have a holiday, though he never said so to his uncle, but stuck manfully to his work till late every night, and then threw himself on his bed, and went sound asleep.
Mr. Hadleigh seldom went to church; indeed, the whole family were generally too tired on a Sunday, after a week of incessant labour, to do anything but rest. In fine weather Clarice generally went for a walk in the afternoon, and her father sometimes accompanied her. But on winter evenings they sat round the fire, yawning and tired, wishing the hours would pa.s.s rapidly by, so that the shop could be opened again. Mr.
Hadleigh really cared for nothing but business.
The first Sunday or two Owen was very miserable. Sundays had been such bright days in his old home. He had always gone to church with his father in the morning, and to a cla.s.s he held for elder boys in the afternoon; and though he had not always taken heed to the lessons as he ought, he had at any rate enjoyed the time. And he looked back to the Westbrook Sundays as days of peaceful rest. The first Sunday after he had found out that David was a cousin of his old friend Sam, he ventured to ask his uncle if he might go and spend the afternoon with the Netherclifts. His uncle gave him leave, not caring what he did on Sundays, so long as he attended well to his work during the week.
Owen started off eagerly, and just round the corner saw David, who had come to meet him by agreement. They walked some little distance, till they reached a narrower street, with smaller houses--a dingy street Owen thought it. But David stopped at a house which looked brighter than the rest, having clean blinds and curtains to the windows, and a very white stone step at the door. Owen noticed this as he followed David in.
"This is Owen Hadleigh, father," he said, bringing him into the little sitting-room.
"I am very glad to see you," said Mr. Netherclift; "but I cannot rise to greet you. I am a constant prisoner with rheumatism."
And then Owen noticed that the man"s hands, too, were twisted and swollen with the same painful disease. He hardly knew what to say. But Mr. Netherclift was anxious to set him at his ease, and bid David bring a chair forward, as he remarked--
"You have come from Westbrook, David tells me. I used to go there often, many years ago."
"Did you really?" asked Owen, eagerly, ready for a talk with one who knew his old home. "Did you know my father, too?"
"I have seen him, but I don"t think I ever spoke to him. My visits to my brother were always short, so I did not get to know many of his friends.
And so your father is now home with Christ; it is a blessed change even from such a pretty place as Westbrook."
"Yes, and he was glad to go; though he was sorry to leave me," said the boy, wistfully. "Mother died when I was a baby, so now I have n.o.body."
"Have you not got Christ?"
Owen looked up inquiringly; he did not quite know his friend"s meaning.
"The blessed Saviour loves you, my boy; have you no love in your heart for Him? Those who belong to Him can never say they have n.o.body to love them. Are you not his child?"
The question was asked very tenderly, and Owen looked into the kind face that watched his so earnestly, as he said, slowly, "I don"t think so."
"Then I am sure you are both poor and lonely."
"Yes, I am poor, because father had very little to leave me--only a few books and furniture. But I have come to Barmston to make my fortune."
"I hope you will find the truest fortune; it is already made for you, and all you have to do is to accept it."
"What is the truest fortune?"
"It is to belong to Christ, the King of kings. The peace and rest and joy He gives are riches of untold price, more valuable--infinitely so--than any wealth of earth. And they are riches that will last for ever."
"How can we get them?"
"By first of all realising our poverty, that we, you and I, are poor lost sinners in ourselves, fit for nothing but h.e.l.l, and that we can do nothing to save ourselves. Then, knowing this fact, because G.o.d says it, to come just as we are, and believe in His Son, who died to save us from all sin."
Owen listened earnestly, the boy"s heart was roused; it was G.o.d"s message to him. He looked thoughtfully into the fire for a few moments.
Presently he said, "Father"s last words to me were to seek the heavenly riches."
"Have you sought them?"