Tom was always ready to 'stand in' for a 'ha'penny loo,' never
flinched from a 'bout at the beer,' could throw a quoit well, when his
eye was clear and his hand steady, and was never at a loss with the
lasses.
Tom, therefore, was a general favourite, being 'well ta'en up wi'' by
all save a few of the more serious-minded people; and 'Caleb Jay'
suffered, I think, partly through contrast with his brother.
'Caleb Jay' had been injured when working as a putter down the pit,
and consequently was 'game of one leg.' He wore the cast-off finery of
his brother, the coloured scarves and embroidered waistcoats of his
festive occasions--out of economy, no doubt, but some said 'oot o'
foolishness.'
Certainly they did not suit well with his sallow complexion and thin,
peaked countenance, and with the big and weary eyes.
He worked now at any odd job he could find. He had the care of the
viewer's strip of kitchen garden, and went round with papers, etc.;
but it was not much that he earned, apparently, for his mother, who
doted on her handsome son Tom, was often heard to complain that he
wasn't worth his keep.
He had a strange way of mysteriously disappearing for some days on
occasion, sometimes even for a week at a stretch, and sundry persons,
annoyed perhaps by his reticence, hinted at secret dissipation.
If closely questioned, he would admit having had a 'job i' the toon,'
or 'ower away yonder,' pointing vaguely this way or that; and gossip
had at least this confirmation for its uncharitable suspicion, that he
always returned pale, tired and haggard-looking.
Some of the boys had tried to 'nab' him either coming or going on one
of these expeditions of his, but he was 'cuter nor a cushat'[15] as I
overheard a sporting youth lament who had followed him in early
morning all the way to Oldcastle, and there in the suburbs had
suddenly lost him just on the brink of discovering the secret.
Gradually we became accustomed to his flittings, and he was spied upon
no more; but for my own part I thought I had, by a comparison of the
times and seasons of his absences, at least discovered this much--that
he was usually away at the incidence of fairs and festivals.
I think I knew him more intimately than any other person in the
village, except, perhaps, our Methodist minister, who never rested
till he had succoured any who might be in 'sickness, sorrow, or
distress'; but to neither of us, I found, on comparing notes, had he
ever vouchsafed any confidences.
The only way in which I eventually discovered I could be of any use to
him was by lending him books. He was extremely fond of reading, and
had a special taste for dramatic poetry, which he occasionally
gratified by coming to my lodgings, and there devouring the historical
plays and tragedies of Shakespeare.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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