Two Boys at Grinder Brothers'

by Henry Lawson

　　

---

Five or six half-grown larrikins sat on the cemented sill of the big windowof Grinder Bros.' Railway Coach Factory waiting for the work bell,and one of the number was Bill Anderson -- known as "Carstor Hoil" --a young terror of fourteen or fifteen."Here comes Balmy Arvie," exclaimed Bill as a pale,timid-looking little fellow rounded the corner and stood against the wallby the door. "How's your parents, Balmy?"The boy made no answer; he shrank closer to the entrance.The first bell went."What yer got for dinner, Balmy? Bread 'n' treacle?" asked the young ruffian;then for the edification of his chums he snatched the boy's dinner bagand emptied its contents on the pavement.The door opened. Arvie gathered up his lunch, took his time-ticket,and hurried in."Well, Balmy," said one of the smiths as he passed, "what do you thinkof the boat race?""I think," said the boy, goaded to reply, "that it would be betterif young fellows of this country didn't think so muchabout racin' an' fightin'."The questioner stared blankly for a moment, then laughed suddenlyin the boy's face, and turned away. The rest grinned."Arvie's getting balmier than ever," guffawed young Bill."Here, Carstor Hoil," cried one of the smiths' strikers,"how much oil will you take for a chew of terbaccer?""Teaspoonful?""No, two.""All right; let's see the chew, first.""Oh, you'll get it. What yer frighten' of? . . . Come on, chaps,'n' see Bill drink oil."Bill measured out some machine oil and drank it. He got the tobacco,and the others got what they called "the fun of seein' Bill drink oil!"The second bell rang, and Bill went up to the other end of the shop,where Arvie was already at work sweeping shavings from under a bench.The young terror seated himself on the end of this bench,drummed his heels against the leg, and whistled. He was in no hurry,for his foreman had not yet arrived. He amused himselfby lazily tossing chips at Arvie, who made no protest for a while."It would be -- better -- for this country," said the young terror,reflectively and abstractedly, cocking his eye at the whitewashed roof beamsand feeling behind him on the bench for a heavier chip --"it would be better -- for this country -- if young fellersdidn't think so much about -- about -- racin' -- AND fightin'.""You let me alone," said Arvie."Why, what'll you do?" exclaimed Bill, bringing his eye downwith feigned surprise. Then, in an indignant tone, "I don't mindtakin' a fall out of yer, now, if yer like."Arvie went on with his work. Bill tossed all the chips within reach,and then sat carelessly watching some men at work, and whistlingthe "Dead March". Presently he asked:"What's yer name, Balmy?"No answer."Carn't yer answer a civil question? I'd soon knock the sulks out of yerif I was yer father.""My name's Arvie; you know that.""Arvie what?""Arvie Aspinall."Bill cocked his eye at the roof and thought a while and whistled;then he said suddenly:"Say, Balmy, where d'yer live?""Jones' Alley.""What?""Jones' Alley."A short, low whistle from Bill. "What house?""Number Eight.""Garn! What yer giv'nus?""I'm telling the truth. What's there funny about it? What do I wantto tell you a lie for?""Why, we lived there once, Balmy. Old folks livin'?""Mother is; father's dead."Bill scratched the back of his head, protruded his under lip, and reflected."I say, Arvie, what did yer father die of?""Heart disease. He dropped down dead at his work."Long, low, intense whistle from Bill. He wrinkled his foreheadand stared up at the beams as if he expected to see something unusual there.After a while he said, very impressively: "So did mine."The coincidence hadn't done striking him yet; he wrestled with itfor nearly a minute longer. Then he said:"I suppose yer mother goes out washin'?""Yes.""'N' cleans offices?""Yes.""So does mine. Any brothers 'n' sisters?""Two -- one brother 'n' one sister."Bill looked relieved -- for some reason."I got nine," he said. "Yours younger'n you?""Yes.""Lot of bother with the landlord?""Yes, a good lot.""Had any bailiffs in yet?""Yes, two."They compared notes a while longer, and tailed off into a silencewhich lasted three minutes and grew awkward towards the end.Bill fidgeted about on the bench, reached round for a chip,but recollected himself. Then he cocked his eye at the roof once moreand whistled, twirling a shaving round his fingers the while.At last he tore the shaving in two, jerked it impatiently from him,and said abruptly:"Look here, Arvie! I'm sorry I knocked over yer barrer yesterday.""Thank you."This knocked Bill out the first round. He rubbed round uneasily on the bench,fidgeted with the vise, drummed his fingers, whistled, and finallythrust his hands in his pockets and dropped on his feet."Look here, Arvie!" he said in low, hurried tones. "Keep close to megoin' out to-night, 'n' if any of the other chaps touches yeror says anything to yer I'll hit 'em!"Then he swung himself round the corner of a carriage "body" and was gone.. . . . .Arvie was late out of the shop that evening. His boss was a sub-contractorfor the coach-painting, and always tried to find twenty minutes' workfor his boys just about five or ten minutes before the bell rang.He employed boys because they were cheap and he had a lot of rough work,and they could get under floors and "bogies" with their pots and brushes,and do all the "priming" and paint the trucks. His name was Collins,and the boys were called "Collins' Babies". It was a joke in the shopthat he had a "weaning" contract. The boys were all "over fourteen",of course, because of the Education Act. Some were nine or ten -- wages fromfive shillings to ten shillings. It didn't matter to Grinder Brothersso long as the contracts were completed and the dividends paid.Collins preached in the park every Sunday. But this has nothing to dowith the story.When Arvie came out it was beginning to rain and the hands had all goneexcept Bill, who stood with his back to a verandah-post,spitting with very fair success at the ragged toe of one boot. He looked up,nodded carelessly at Arvie, and then made a dive for a passing lorry,on the end of which he disappeared round the next corner,unsuspected by the driver, who sat in front with his pipe in his mouthand a bag over his shoulders.Arvie started home with his heart and mind pretty full, and a stronger,stranger aversion to ever going back to the shop again. This new,unexpected, and unsought-for friendship embarrassed the poor lonely child.It wasn't welcome.But he never went back. He got wet going home, and that nighthe was a dying child. He had been ill all the time,and Collins was one "baby" short next day.

---

---