The Master of Silence | Page 3

stage
carpenter, who was employed at one of the cheap theatres and who
lived within a stone's throw of my lodgings. His language was a unique
combination of bad grammar and provincial brogue; but every boy in
the warehouse allowed that he was a good fellow. He had spent many
an evening with me, and confided to me many a secret which, owing to
solemn pledges made at that time, I am not at liberty to divulge, before
he invited me to dine and spend an evening with the family. I accepted
his invitation gratefully, and the next evening Phil took me over. It was
a hearty welcome that I received at the home of the Chaffins. My
enjoyment of their simple hospitality would have been perfect but for
the embarrassment I felt at the many apologies with which it was
offered. Mrs. Chaffin knew as 'ow the tea was not as good as I was
used to drinking, but she 'oped it didn't taste "murky." I assured her that
it did not taste murky, although a little doubtful as to the exact
significance of the word when applied to tea. But in spite of my
declaration she insisted that it must taste "murky" to one who was
accustomed to better things. The ham was never too good in Liverpool,
but she 'oped that it wasn't "reesty." I solemnly declared that it was not
"reesty." But Mrs. Chaffin and Mr. Chaffin out of the goodness of their
hearts continued to condole with me on the score that such ham tasted
and must taste "reesty" to one not used to it. I had no sooner satisfied
their misgivings concerning the ham than I was compelled to take issue
with them as to the bread, regarding which they entertained a lurking
suspicion of staleness. During all of this discussion about the ham, the
tea and the bread, I was conscious that a pair of big brown eyes, darkly
shaded with long lashes, were staring at me across the table. Whenever
I had the courage to glance that way I observed that they had been

looking at me intently, and were suddenly averted. These wondering
eyes belonged to the only daughter in the family.
"They've all been boys," said Mrs. Chaffin, "since Hetty was born."
I thought it strange that the H in her daughter's name was the only one
that the good woman had shown the ability to manage.
"Hetty is the only one of the lot that takes to books," she continued.
"The head master told me she will make a good scholar, and dear a me!
she does nothing but read books from mornin' till night." While Hetty
and her mother removed the dishes we drew our chairs about the fire,
and Mr. Chaffin, a blunt, simple-minded man, entertained me with sage
observations regarding politics and the weather. He spoke rather loudly,
and in a key which, as I learned afterward, he only employed on very
special occasions. Presently the youngest lad in the family, who sat on
his father's knee, demanded a song. The response was prompt and
generous. The selection with which Mr. Chaffin favored us contained
upward of forty stanzas, relating the unhappy story of a fair maid and a
bold sailor, both of whom met a tragic death, in the last stanza, just
before the day set for their marriage. The song being finished, Hetty
and her mother drew their chairs up to the fire; Hetty sat next me, and
after a severe inward struggle I summoned the courage to ask her a
question. She answered me in the fewest words possible, but in a voice
so sweet and low that I wondered then and often afterward at its
contrast to the other voices I had heard in that house. She wore a
home-spun frock and a neat white pinafore, set off with a dainty ribbon
tied about her throat.
"She's uncommon still when strangers is here, sir," said Mrs. Chaffin;
"but law me! she goes rompitin' about the house like as if she was crazy
sometimes, ticklin' her father and tryin' t' snip off his beard with the
scissors."
That night was the beginning of happier days for me. When at last I
rose to go it was near midnight. I forgot my weariness as I walked to
my lodgings, thinking of those simple, honest people and of their
kindness to me.

I enjoyed high jinks at the house of the Chaffins at least once a week
during the next year of my apprenticeship, near the close of which I
began to get ready for a visit to my stepmother in fulfilment of a
promise I had made by letter. It had been, on the whole, a happy year to
me. I had known many lonely hours,