The Story of Valentine and His BrotherOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
The Story of Valentine and His Brother
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Brothers -- Fiction
Thus things went on for the remaining portion of the “half,” which
lasted only about six weeks more. Dick set himself to the work of making
everything “handy” for her with enthusiasm in his odd hours, which were
few, for his services at the rafts were demanded imperatively from
earliest morning till the late evening after sunset, when the river
dropped into darkness. “The gentlemen,” it is true, were all cleared off
their favourite stream by nine o’clock; but the local lovers of the
Thames would linger on it during those summer nights, especially when
there was a moon, till poor Dick, putting himself across in his boat
when all at last was silent--the last boating party disposed of, and the
small craft all ranged in their places ready for to-morrow--would feel
his arms scarcely able to pull the light sculls, and his limbs trembling
under him. Even then, after his long day’s work, when he had eaten his
supper, he would set to work to put up the shelves he had promised his
mother, or to fix upon his walls the pictures which delighted himself.
Dick began with the lowest rudiments of art, the pictures in the penny
papers, with which he almost papered his walls; but his taste advanced
as his pennies grew more plentiful: the emotional prints of the ‘Police
News’ ceased to charm him, and he rose to the pictures of the
‘Illustrated,’ or whatever might be the picture-paper of the time. This
advance--so quickly does the mind work--took place in the six weeks that
remained of the half; and by the time “the gentlemen” left, and work
slackened, Dick’s room was already gorgeous, with here and there a
mighty chromo, strong in tint and simple in subject, surrounded with all
manner of royal progresses and shows of various kinds, as represented in
the columns of the prints aforesaid. He grew handy, too, in amateur
carpentering, having managed to buy himself some simple tools; and when
he had a spare moment he betook himself to the bits of simple carving
which Val had handed over to him, and worked at them with a real
enjoyment which proved his possession of some germ at least of artistic
feeling. The boy never had a moment unemployed with all these
occupations, necessary and voluntary. He was as happy as the day was
long, always ready with a smile and pleasant word, always sociable, not
given to calculating his time too nicely, or to grumbling if some of his
“mates” threw upon his willing shoulders more than his share of work.
The boating people about got to know him, and among the boys he had
already become highly popular. Very grand personages indeed--Lichen
himself, for instance, than whom there could be no more exalted
being--would talk to him familiarly; and some kind lads, finding out his
tastes, brought him pictures of which they themselves had got tired, and
little carved brackets from their walls, and much other rubbish of this
description, all of which was delightful to Dick.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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