Terry's Trials and Triumphs

For the first time since he had entered Mr. Drummond's presence Terry lifted his big brown eyes, and looked full into his face, his freckles being 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 warrant of many good qualities that you've had small chance to develop thus far. It will be my privilege and pleasure to give you the opportunity circumstances have hitherto denied you. How would you like to go to a nice school?"

Terry had been listening with eager attention and brightening countenance; but at the mention of the word "school" his face suddenly fell, and from the restless twitching of his body it was very evident that the idea had no attraction for him at all.

Mr. Drummond's keen eye did not fail to note the effect of his question, and without stopping to argue the point he promptly put another.

"Well, then, how would you like to be taken into my office and taught to be a clerk?"

Instantly the boy's face burst into bloom, so to speak, and giving the merchant a look which said as plain as words, "I hope you really mean it," he exclaimed, —

"Sure, sir, an' it's now ye're talkin'."

Mr. Drummond could not suppress a smile at Terry's quaint phrase that went so straight to the mark.

"You shall have your own way then," he responded in his pleasantest tone, "and you may begin as soon as you like. Let me just say this to you, my boy," he continued, drawing Terry towards him with one hand, and placing the other on his shoulder. "I want to be your friend for life. You can always rely upon that. But I cannot do for you what you alone can do for yourself. You will meet with many trials and temptations that you will have to fight all by yourself. I will at all times be glad to give you the best counsel I can. But in the end you must make your own way. No one else can make it for you. By being faithful to my interests, Terry, you will most surely advance your own. Never forget that. And now, good-bye for the present. Mr. Hobart in the outer office has some business to do with you right away, and I will look for you bright and early on Monday morning."

Rather relieved at the interview being over, and feeling as though he would have to go prancing and shouting down the whole length of Long Wharf to give vent to his delight at what Mr. Drummond had said, Terry slipped out of the merchant's sanctum, and found a pleasant-looking young 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 a confidant, and without reserve he related all that had been said, as well as he could remember it.

"Phew!" whistled the clerk. "You've got on the right side of the old man, and no mistake. No putting you off with a sovereign and a paragraph in the papers. Whatever he says goes, I can tell you. Come along now; I'm to have the pleasure of making a swell out of you."

In some bewilderment as to Mr. Hobart's meaning, Terry obediently accompanied him up to Granville Street, where they entered a gentleman's outfitting establishment, before whose broad plate-glass windows the boy had often stood in covetous appreciation of the fine things so dexterously displayed therein. With an air of easy self-possession that Terry profoundly admired, Mr. Hobart called upon a brilliantly-arrayed clerk to show them their ready-made clothing. They went into the rear part of the shop, and then the purpose of their coming 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, has put the business in my hands, so you'll please be good enough to entirely approve of my selections."

His manner was so kind and pleasant that Terry felt as though there was hardly anything on earth that he would not have been willing to do for him, let alone approving of the benefactions he was the instrument of bestowing.

"Indeed that I will, sir," he responded, with a warmth that made the clerk smile in such a patronizing way that Mr. Hobart cut him short by saying 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 less particular than if he were choosing the various articles for his own wardrobe. He had carte-blanche from Mr. Drummond, and the matter of cheapness was not to be taken into account. It all seemed like a beautiful dream to Terry. A fine suit of clothes, that fitted him as though they had been cut to order; a pair of scarlet braces with bright brass clasps such as his heart had often vainly hungered for; three good flannel shirts for week-day wear, and three lovely linen ones for Sabbaths; a sheaf of collars and a roll of cuffs; and, finally, to top it all, a hard felt hat, the like of which had never before been on his head; – one after another were these fine feathers procured, and the money for them paid down from a bundle of notes which Terry, in his ignorance of money in that form, thought must contain at least a thousand pounds.

It took over an hour to complete the business, Mr. Hobart evidently enjoying it in no small degree himself. At last, however, he seemed satisfied 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's office, so far as appearance goes at all events. You can trot along home 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 many exclamations of gratitude to the "blessed saints," and many interjected questions, did Mrs. Ahearn listen to his wonderful story; and when the parcels arrived, she spread out their contents upon the bed and fell upon her knees before them. For many years her life had known but scant rays of sunshine, and this sudden outburst almost overwhelmed her. 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, and in him alone, had she hope of redress for the sorrows which had so deeply shadowed her life. Terry's chance had come, and his future and hers depended upon the way in which he availed himself of it.

CHAPTER III

UNEVEN GOING

It was with a queer jumble of feelings palpitating in his young bosom that Terry, attired as never before in his life, set out for Long Wharf on Monday morning. Blind Alley seemed to swarm with women and children, who first gazed in wild-eyed astonishment at his appearance, and then proceeded to give vent to their admiration or envy in remarks that would have sorely tried the composure of a stump orator hardened by many campaigns.

"The blessed saints presarve us! Did ye ever see the loike?" gasped Mrs. O'Rafferty, with a side glance at the gutter, where her own Phelim was hunting for a lost marble, and looking more like a mud-turtle than a bit of humanity.

"Get on to the hat, will you?" shouted Tim Doolin, his fingers itching to throw a handful of mud at it, but his head telling him that to do so would insure a tremendous thrashing, for Terry's prowess with his fists was not to be gainsaid.

"Sure he's got a place in front of Clayton's, and has to stand there all day on exhibition," sneered sly Tony Butler, pretending that he thought Terry was to play the part of a living advertisement for a well-known ready-made clothing firm.

Through this ordeal Terry hastened with a deprecating smile, as though to say, "Really, you're making an absurd fuss about a most trifling matter;" and wisely refraining from any retort, he drew a deep breath of relief when he reached Water Street, and became merged in the crowd of well-dressed clerks hurrying to their offices.

On arriving at Long Wharf, he could not resist the impulse to take one look over his beloved playground before reporting himself at Drummond and Brown's. He clearly realized that if he would take full advantage of the opportunity now open to him, the dock would know him no more as in the past; and besides that, he did want to let his playmates, who would have his company no longer, see his fine feathers in their pristine freshness.

The chorus of praise they elicited would have contented a much more exacting heart than Terry's, and in answering the questions showered upon him he ran the risk of not being "bright and early," as Mr. Drummond had enjoined upon him. Happily, however, the boom of the market clock reminded him in time, and darting back up the wharf he entered the big warehouse, the front part of whose ground floor was given up to a suite of offices, in which many of the clerks had already assembled for the day's work.

Terry's impulse carried him as far as inside the door, and then it deserted him, leaving him completely stranded. Now that he was in the office, he had not the slightest idea what to do with himself. The clerks were busy getting their books out, and chaffing one another as to the doings of the night before. No one seemed to notice him, and feeling acutely uncomfortable he shrank into a corner, a longing to run off again coming over him with great force. He could see nothing of Mr. Hobart, and in his utter strangeness his heart sank in chill despair. How remote seemed the possibility of his ever taking his place among that group of dashing young fellows, who had so much to tell each other of enjoyments and exploits in spheres of society far beyond his ken!

A movement that he made in his agitation at length attracted the attention of a young lad about his own age, who, looking sharply at him, asked in a rude tone, —

"Well, sonny, what is it you want?"

For a moment Terry was nonplussed for a reply. How could he explain his position to this saucy-looking inquirer? Then by a happy inspiration, it occurred to him to ask for his friend of Saturday afternoon, and in a low, hesitating voice he said, —

"I want to see Mr. Hobart, please."

"Say, there, Walter!" shouted the clerk, in the direction of an inner office, "there's a young kid asking for you here. Did you forget to pay your washer-woman on Saturday night?"

Mr. Hobart appeared quickly, and the moment his eyes fell upon Terry (who even in the midst of his discomposure had his wits sufficiently about him to take in the meaning of the clerk's impertinence, and his eyes were brimming in consequence) he sprang towards the speaker, and seizing him by the collar, gave him a vigorous shaking, saying meanwhile in indignant tones, —

"See here, Morley: if you don't keep your sauce to yourself, you'll get something worse than a shaking. Do you know who that is? It's the boy who saved Miss Drummond's life, and he's got the makings of a better man in him than you have, or I'm much mistaken." Then turning to Terry he continued, as he released his hold on Morley, "Come right inside here, Terry, and I'll introduce you to the boys."

The appearance of his friend, and the warmth with which he took up his cause, worked a complete revolution in Terry's feelings. The tears vanished from his eyes, and with a broad smile lighting up his countenance he obeyed Mr. Hobart's bidding; while Morley, looking very much crestfallen, and displaying a malignant scowl that boded no good to the new-comer, went sullenly back to his desk.

Mr. Hobart introduced Terry to each of the clerks, and they all shook hands with him cordially. His gallant rescue of their employer's daughter prepared them to like him, and his honest, good-humoured face disarmed, for the time at least, any feelings of opposition to his entry into their ranks. There were nearly a dozen of them altogether, from the senior book-keeper, gray-bearded and spectacled, down to Tom Morley, whose work it was to look after collecting the wharfage. Mr. Hobart held the responsible post of finance-clerk. He attended to all the banking; paid the labourers on Friday evenings and made out the salary cheques at the end of the month; and by virtue of the importance of his duties, and the evident favour in which he was held by the firm, stood next to the book-keeper in the estimation of his associates. Terry was very fortunate in having his support at the start, particularly as he had taken a decided liking to the boy, and was quite willing to act as his patron, and to pilot him through the difficulties of his new surroundings.

The Civil War in the United States was then at its height, and Halifax, as a neutral port, open to the vessels of both contestants for supremacy, occupied a peculiarly advantageous position. Never before in the history of the city had business been brisker or money more plentiful. Hardly a day passed without its quota of steamships or sailing-vessels pressing into the splendid harbour, and willing to pay almost any price in good gold for immediate attention.

Nor were these profitable customers of the harmless merchant class only. From time to time there appeared grim men-of-war, looking terribly business-like with their rows of black-muzzled guns; and now and then the whole city was thrown into excitement by the sudden advent of one of the far-famed Confederate cruisers, which did such fearful damage to Federal commerce – as, for instance, the renowned Tallahassee, whose trim black form came dashing through the white caps one fine summer morning, while far out in the offing a keen eye could discern the dark shapes of her disappointed pursuers.

But most interesting of all such visitors were the blockade-runners, the Colonel Lamb, the Robert E. Lee, and the like. Marvels of beauty and speed they were, their low, graceful hulls painted a soft gray tint, so as to make them invisible at sea when only a few miles distant; and in the eyes of the Halifax boys every man on board was a hero, and the object of profound admiration.

This feeling, moreover, was by no means confined to the boys. If at any time during the war a poll of the Haligonians had been taken, the majority in favour of the South would certainly have been very large. Self-interest, no doubt, had much to do with this state of affairs; and, besides that, there was current the belief that the South was fighting for freedom rather than for the maintenance of slavery.

The firm of Drummond and Brown having had extensive business connections with the Southern States for many years before the war, it was but natural that Long Wharf should be the favoured resort of the Confederate vessels. The blockade-runners, without exception, docked there; and, as a matter of course, from the heads of the firm down to the humblest toiler on the wharf, everybody belonging to the establishment was Confederate to the core.

As for Terry Ahearn, so fervent was his sympathy with the South, that up to the time of his being taken into the office, had he ever received any encouragement, he would have unhesitatingly joined himself to the crew of a blockade-runner in any capacity they would have for him. Happily for him they had no use for boys on board these vessels, and his desires remained unrealized, until the opening up of a new life to him through his being taken into Mr. Drummond's employment diverted his thoughts into an altogether different channel.

Certainly he had much to think about during the first period of his clerkship. It was a big change for a boy to make in a day – from careless, idle play in ragged clothes about a dock, varied by an occasional trip coastward, when he could persuade the captain of one of the many packet schooners to take him along as an extra hand, to steady-going service in an office, with the accompanying requirements of always being neat, well-dressed, and respectful in demeanour to those about him.

And greatly as Terry rejoiced in the sudden advance, he would have been more than mortal if he had not found his new environment bristling with difficulties which neither the favour of Mr. Drummond nor the friendly offices of Mr. Hobart could materially help him to overcome. He did not fail to feel keenly the marked contrast between his own speech and manners and those of Tom Morley, for instance; nor was he blind to the fact that his educational equipment was deplorably deficient. How bitterly he regretted that he had not taken more advantage of his opportunities at school, and how fervently he vowed to do his best to make up lost ground so far as might be possible!

It was no slight addition to his embarrassments that all unwittingly he had at the very start incurred the enmity of Tom Morley, who thenceforward did everything that he dared to annoy him. Tom was a clever boy himself, and had enjoyed many advantages in his bringing up. He took to business as naturally as a duck to water, and but for certain characteristics, would have been held in high esteem in the office.

Unhappily, however, he had a sly, jealous, selfish nature, that soon revealed itself, because, forsooth, he made little attempt to conceal it, and this effectually barred his way to popularity.

Even without the contretemps, for which he alone was responsible, on the morning Terry first came to the office, Morley would have taken a dislike to Terry simply because of his good fortune. Now that there was double cause for such a feeling, he let it have full play, and if poor Terry had done him some mortal injury he could not have shown a more vicious spirit towards him. He mimicked his brogue for the amusement of his fellow-clerks; he made sneering remarks about his clothes; he played practical jokes upon him to raise a laugh at his expense; in fact, he behaved so abominably towards him, that there were times when only the restraining influence of his surroundings kept Terry back from rushing upon him with clenched fists. Being thus beset, Terry found his lot far harder than he had conceived, and needed all the help that came to him from his mother's sympathy, Mr. Drummond's kindly interest, and Mr. Hobart's good-humoured helpfulness, in order to keep up his courage. It was, therefore, a welcome inspiration to him when, on the Saturday following the rescue, Miss Drummond appeared at the office, quite recovered from her startling experience, and as soon as she arrived asked for her rescuer.

In some trepidation Terry went into Mr. Drummond's sanctum, where he was warmly welcomed by the young lady.

"Why, Terry, how well you look!" she exclaimed, beaming radiantly upon him. "I'm so glad you're in my father's office. I know you're going to make a capital clerk."

Terry could find nothing to say; so Miss Drummond went on, —

"I believe, Terry, that an important thing in a clerk is to be always in time, and as I want you to have no difficulty on that score, I got this little timekeeper for you, and am going to ask you to wear it in memory of to-day week, so that you won't forget the service that you rendered me then."

While thus speaking she took from her reticule a small watch in a silver case, with a neat silver charm attached, and opening the case showed Terry where his name in full was engraved inside, and underneath it the words, "In recognition of rescue," with the proper date appended.

Drawing Terry towards her, she secured the watch in his vest, while he did his best to stammer out his gratitude.

"Never mind about thanks, Terry," said Miss Drummond. "You may consider it your medal for life-saving, you know. And never forget, Terry, that in business a good watch is the next best thing to a good conscience."

Terry went back to his place in a tumult of joy and pride. Naturally enough, the first thing he did was to show his new treasure to Mr. Hobart and the others. They all admired it, and congratulated him; except Morley, who, professing to be very much engrossed in his work, bent a scowling face over his desk. Terry's good fortune had affected him in the same way that Joseph's rather indiscreet relation of his dreams affected his elder brethren, so that without any other cause of offence he came to "hate him, and could not speak peaceably unto him."

As may be easily understood, Terry gave him many chances to vent his baseless spite. Everything about the office was utterly new to him. The days were full of blunders, and whenever these were explained there was Morley enjoying the poor boy's discomfiture, and, if Mr. Hobart did not happen to be at hand, letting fall cutting remarks that made Terry wince as though they were strokes of a whip.

Although none of the other clerks showed the same spirit as Morley, still they did not attempt to interfere, partly because they thought that Terry needed to be "licked into shape," and partly because they did not approve of his advent quite as cordially as Mr. Hobart. He was of a different class from them, and they could not sympathize with him in the same degree as if he were one of themselves.

Thus the new way that had been opened up to Terry proved to be set thick with difficulties, which would severely test his qualities of self-control and determination in order to their overcoming; and when the boy's previous life and surroundings were taken into account, the chances could hardly be said to be in his favour.

Mr. Hobart, it is true, showed every disposition to befriend him; but he was a very busy man, the hardest worker on the whole staff, and there were days when a kind, encouraging smile as he bustled about his work was all the communication Terry had with him.

It soon became clear to Terry that he must fight his own battles – that, as Mr. Drummond had said, he must make his own way – and it was with many misgivings as to the result that he set himself to the undertaking.

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