Read Online Johnny Tremain by Esther Hoskins Forbes - Free Book Online Page A

remark any man, woman, or child had made about Johnny's hand in any shop he had been in.
    'I did it last July. I am ... I
was
apprenticed to a silversmith. I burned it on hot silver.'
    'I see. So everything you are trained for is out?'
    'Yes. I wouldn't mind so much being a clockmaker or instrument-maker. But I can't and I
won't
be a butcher nor a soap-boiler.'
    'No.'
    'I've
got
to do something I like, or ... or...'
    The dark boy put the question to him he had not been able to ask himself.
    'Or what?'
    Johnny lifted his thin, fair face. His lips parted before he spoke.
    'I just don't know. I can't think.'
    Apparently the printer's boy did not know either. All he said was, 'More cheese?'
    Then Johnny began to talk. He told all about the Laphams and how he somehow couldn't seem even to thank Cilla for the food she usually got to him. How cross and irritable he had become. How rude to people who told him they were sorry for him. And he admitted he had used no sense in looking for a new job. He told about the burn, but with none of the belligerent arrogance with which he had been answering the questions kind people had put to him. As he talked to Rab (for the boy had told him this was his name), for the first time since the accident he felt able to stand aside from his problems—see himself.
    Mr. Lorne, Rab's uncle by marriage, came back. He was a scholarly young man with a face as sharp and bright as a fox's. Rab did not immediately spring into action to make a good show of his industry before his master. He had none of the usual 'yes, sir,' 'no, sir,' 'please, sir.' He went on calmly eating bread and cheese.
    On Mr. Lorne's heels came two little boys in big aprons—the Webb twins. Seemingly they went back to their master's house across Salt Lane for dinner, while the nephew ate out of a basket and minded the shop.
    The Webbs were set to work. Mr. Lorne began to ink a pad. Johnny felt he must go. Rab walked with him to the door. He was still eating bread and cheese.
    'I don't know how you'll make out,' said Rab. 'Of course you can get work—if you'll take it.'
    'I know ... unskilled work.'
    'Yes, work you don't want.'
    'But'—the dinner had raised Johnny's hopes—' I feel sure I'll get something.'
    Overhead the little man with the spyglass and the red breeches was swinging in the wind—observing Boston from a variety of angles.
    Rab said: 'There is some work here you could do. Not the sort that teaches a boy a skilled trade. Just riding for us—delivering papers all over Boston and around. Nothing you'd want. But if you can't find anything else, you come back.'
    'I'll come back all right—but not until I can tell you what a good job I've found myself.'
    'You haven't any folks?'
    'None at all.'
    'I've got lots of relatives,' said Rab, 'but my parents are dead.'
    'Oh.'
    'Come again.'
    'I'll come.'
    It wasn't the food alone that so raised Johnny's hopes. It was Rab himself; an ease and confidence flowed out and supported those around him. The marketwoman had felt better about losing her Myra after she had talked with Rab. He was the first person to whom Johnny Tremain had confided his own story.
2
    The coming of Mr. Percival Tweedie, journeyman silversmith of Baltimore, cast a longer and longer shadow over the Lapham household and conversation. While the terms of partnership were being drawn up, he stayed at a cheap lodging house on Fish Street. Johnny left right after breakfast and often did not return until dark. He did not meet Mr. Tweedie for a long time and he got tired of hearing about him. Mr. Tweedie was ready to sign the contract of partnership Mrs. Lapham had had drawn up—and Mr. Tweedie would not sign. When Mr. Tweedie came to the shop it was Dorcas he seemed to fancy—no, it was Madge. Although almost forty, he was still a bachelor—Mrs. Lapham had asked him about that.
    Johnny already hated the very sound of his name, and then one morning, before breakfast, he met him. Mr.