“I will obey you, master — indeed I will!” implored Jack, seriously alarmed at the carpenter’s calm displeasure.
“We shall see. Good words, without deeds, are rushes and reeds. And now take away those cards, and never let me see them again. Drive away the cat; throw that measure of gin through the window; and tell me why you’ve not so much as touched the packing-case for Lady Trafford, which I particularly desired you to complete against my return. It must be sent home this evening. She leaves town to-morrow.”
“It shall be ready in two hours,” answered Jack, seizing a piece of wood and a plane; “it isn’t more than four o’clock. I’ll engage to get the job done by six. I didn’t expect you home before that hour, Sir.”
“Ah, Jack,” said Wood, shaking his head, “where there’s a will there’s a way. You can do anything you please. I wish I could get you to imitate Thames Darrell.”
“I’m sure I understand the business of a carpenter much better than he does,” replied Jack, adroitly adjusting the board, and using the plane with the greatest rapidity.
“Perhaps,” replied Wood, doubtfully.
“Thames was always your favourite,” observed Jack, as he fastened another piece of wood on the teeth of the iron stopper.
“I’ve made no distinction between you, hitherto,” answered Wood; “nor shall I do so, unless I’m compelled.”
“I’ve had the hard work to do, at all events,” rejoined Jack, “But I won’t complain. I’d do anything for Thames Darrell.”
“And Thames Darrell would do anything for you, Jack,” replied a blithe voice. “What’s the matter, father!” continued the new-comer, addressing Wood. “Has Jack displeased you? If so, overlook his fault this once. I’m sure he’ll do his best to content you. Won’t you, Jack?”
“That I will,” answered Sheppard, eagerly.
“When it thunders, the thief becomes honest,” muttered Wood.
“Can I help you, Jack?” asked Thames, taking up a plane.
“No, no, let him alone,” interposed Wood. “He has undertaken to finish this job by six o’clock, and I wish to see whether he’ll be as good as his word.”
“He’ll have hard work to do it by that time, father,” remonstrated Thames; “you’d better let me help him.”
“On no account,” rejoined Wood peremptorily. “A little extra exertion will teach him the advantage of diligence at the proper season. Lost ground must be regained. I need scarcely ask whether you’ve executed your appointed task, my dear? You’re never behindhand.”
Thames turned away at the question, which he felt might be construed into a reproach. But Sheppard answered for him.
“Darrell’s job was done early this morning,” he said; “and if I’d attended to his advice, the packing-case would have been finished at the same time.”
“You trusted too much to your own skill, Jack,” rejoined Thames. “If I could work as fast as you, I might afford to be as idle. See how he gets on, father,” he added, appealing to Wood: “the box seems to grow under his hands.”
“You’re a noble-hearted little fellow, Thames,” rejoined Wood, casting a look of pride and affection at his adopted son, whose head he gently patted; “and give promise of a glorious manhood.”
Thames Darrell was, indeed, a youth of whom a person of far greater worldly consequence than the worthy carpenter might have been justly proud. Though a few months younger than his companion Jack Sheppard, he was half a head taller, and much more robustly formed. The two friends contrasted strikingly with each other. In Darrell’s open features, frankness and honour were written in legible characters; while, in Jack’s physiognomy, cunning and knavery were as strongly imprinted. In all other respects they differed as materially. Jack could hardly be accounted good-looking: Thames, on the contrary, was one of the handsomest boys possible. Jack’s complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell’s as fresh and bright as a rose. Jack’s mouth was coarse and large; Darrell’s small and exquisitely carved, with the short, proud upper lip, which belongs to the highest order of beauty. Jack’s nose was broad and flat; Darrell’s straight and fine as that of Antinous. The expression pervading the countenance of the one was vulgarity; of the other, that which is rarely found, except in persons of high birth. Darrell’s eyes were of that clear gray which it is difficult to distinguish from blue by day and black at night; and his rich brown hair, which he could not consent to part with, even on the promise of a new and modish peruke from his adoptive father, fell in thick glossy ringlets upon his shoulders; whereas Jack’s close black crop imparted the peculiar bullet-shape we have noticed, to his head.
While Thames modestly expressed a hope that he might not belie the carpenter’s favourable prediction, Jack Sheppard thought fit to mount a small ladder placed against the wall, and, springing with the agility of an ape upon a sort of frame, contrived to sustain short spars and blocks of timber, began to search about for a piece of wood required in the work on which he was engaged. Being in a great hurry, he took little heed where he set his feet; and a board giving way, he must have fallen, if he had not grasped a large plank laid upon the transverse beam immediately over his head.
“Take care, Jack,” shouted Thames, who witnessed the occurrence; “that plank isn’t properly balanced. You’ll have it down.”
But the caution came too late. Sheppard’s weight had destroyed the equilibrium of the plank: it swerved, and slowly descended. Losing his presence of mind, Jack quitted his hold, and dropped upon the frame. The plank hung over his head. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent.
“Get from under it, Jack!” vociferated Thames. “I can’t hold it much longer — it’ll break my wrist. Down we come!” he exclaimed, letting go the plank, which fell with a crash, and leaping after Sheppard, who had rolled off the frame.
All this was the work of a minute.
“No bones broken, I hope,” said Thames, laughing at Jack, who limped towards the bench, rubbing his shins as he went.
“All right,” replied Sheppard, with affected indifference.
“It’s a mercy you both escaped!” ejaculated Wood, only just finding his tongue. “I declare I’m all in a cold sweat. How came you, Sir,” he continued, addressing Sheppard, “to venture upon that frame. I always told you some accident would happen.”
“Don’t scold him, father,” interposed Thames; “he’s been frightened enough already.”
“Well, well, since you desire it, I’ll say no more,” returned Wood. “You hay’n’t hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?” he added, anxiously.
“Only sprained it a little, that’s all,” answered Thames; “the pain will go off presently.”
“Then you are hurt,” cried the carpenter in alarm. “Come down stairs directly, and let your mother look at your wrist. She has an excellent remedy for a sprain. And do you, Jack, attend to your work, and mind you don’t get into further mischief.”
“Hadn’t Jack better go with us?” said Thames. “His shin may need rubbing.”
“By no means,” rejoined Wood, hastily. “A little suffering will do him good. I meant to give him a drubbing. That bruise will answer the same purpose.”
“Thames,” said Sheppard in a low voice, as he threw a vindictive glance at the carpenter, “I shan’t forget this. You’ve saved my life.”
“Pshaw! you’d do as much for me any day, and think no more