The brisk air was biting, but the sun shone down on the quaint cobblestone street. It was early yet, but the streets were scattered with people as John made his way along. He had a destination among the jumble of shops; if only he could find the sign- there!
Arnolds and Sons, Drapers.
He crossed the street to the storefront. The display windows were filled with bolts of sturdy fabrics in practical shades of blues, greens, and grays; no others could be risked to fade in the direct light.
Before John entered the shop, he looked himself over in the reflection of the shop window. He brushed the dirt from the front of his coat, smoothed down a few unruly waves of hair, and then looked down at his boots. Before, a maid polished his boots every morning. He had tried cleaning them up a bit this morning before leaving, but now they were mud spattered and scuffed. He would have hardly considered himself presentable, but things were different now. This was the best he could do, and all he could hope was that this visit would be a fruitful one.
"What can I assist you with, my lad?" A man with salt and pepper hair, neatly parted, and a clean shopkeeper's apron tied around his waist stepped out from behind a wide counter as John entered the shop. "Are you here to pick up an order?"
"No, I'm here for a job. I was told you were looking for an assistant?"
The information had come from the Thornton's new neighbors. The cost of living had been too high to stay in Milton, so they had moved to a cottage in a small country town. It was quite the adjustment for all of them, but people of the town proved friendly and eager to help.
At the word "assistant", the man's eyes lit up and he strode up to John and gave him a hearty handshake.
"You're a godsend, lad, truly ya' are. I know the sign says Arnolds and Sons, but as soon as my boys were of age, they were off on ventures of their own, leavin' their ol' father to take care of things here. I have a few apprentices, but there's more work then all of us can do."
"Well, I'm greatly in need of work." John said with a nod.
"You've worked in a shop before?" The man went back behind the counter and John stepped further into the shop, eyes traveling over the bolts of textiles that covered the walls.
"No, sir. Until recently I was in school."
"A young man like you? You must be nigh on seventeen or so."
"Fifteen, sir."
"Well, aren't you a tall one for your age. Fifteen, you say, and you haven't had a job before?" Mr. Arnolds said, taking a closer look at him.
"No, sir."
"What's your name, lad?"
"John Thornton."
Mr. Arnolds' bristly brows rose. "Thornton? Not a relation to that wealthy Thornton up in Milton?"
"He was my father."
The older man's face softened. "My sympathies, lad, to you and your mother. I would be glad to give you a job here, if you can be fast learner. Fifteen's an odd age to be looking for work; too old to be apprenticed and too young for the hard labor jobs, though with your tall frame, that might not be a problem. I can guarantee you, however, I pay a mite better then diggin' ditches will get you. I suppose your schoolin' will be beneficial. Are you any good with figures?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well then, you can start by goin' over this order for me and make sure everything's added proper."
"Thank you sir."
"You can hang your coat in the back, and I'll get you an apron."
Mr. Arnolds took John's coat himself and disappeared into the backroom for a moment. John stepped behind the counter and looked down the open page in the ledger. It looked simple enough, simpler then the equations and mathematical theories he had been learning in school.
"You'll also have to watch the shop and help customers when I have to go out. I'll show ya' what to do in those instances." Mr. Arnold was at John's side now, talking as if he had never left. "The most important thing is for you to be polite and respectful to patrons, and to not jut in your opinion. Tis only proper to make suggestions if it is asked of ya'."
John nearly smiled. What opinion would he have on what customers bought?
Mr. Arnolds continued on, motioning for John to follow him around the shop. By the end of the day, John was tired and ready to head home. He had a clear idea of what his duties would be, and understood that there was much only time and experience could teach him. School was over, but now he must learn a whole new set of skills.
It was a good job, however, and a job that would feed his family.
"Mother?" John called, stepping into the cottage. It was composed of three rooms, two bedrooms and the other for living. There was hardly need to raise his voice; his mother was sitting by the window that overlooked the street, only a few strides from the front door. She was rocking Fanny in her arms; head bent over the sleeping child.
"Hush, John, I've only now gotten her to sleep."
John closed the door softly and stooped by the fire to warm his cold hands.
"We're low on wood. I can go out and get some-"
"Don't trouble yourself; we will be fine until morning. Tell me how your search went."
John pulled a stool near to where his mother sat and eased himself on it.
"It was successful. I'm now a draper's assistant to a Mr. Arnolds."
Mrs. Thornton shook her head and put her free hand on her son's shoulder. "My son, a tradesman now. I can hardly believe it."
"It's a decent job, Mother, with 15 shillings a week. I only wish there was more I could do."
"More? Oh my dear John, there is nothing more you can do! With your wages, we will not live in luxury, but we shall be comfortable, and then we will start saving for your future. You can make something of your self."
"We can't save any of it! We will need it." John spoke a bit too loud and his mother put a finger to her lips. Fanny stirred, but didn't wake.
"We will put three shillings away for you every week, and spend the other twelve carefully on the things we will need."
John's eyes widened. Three shillings seemed small, but he knew it would quickly add up. In three years that would amount to over 20 pounds.
"But Mother, we will need every shilling."
"No, John, I am decided. 12 shillings will purchase necessities for us, and the rest we will do without. You must only promise me one thing."
"What is that?"
"When you do have a fortune of your own, to spend it as wisely as you can, and not invest in silly speculations."
"Oh, Mother, that is a lesson I will never forget, and never do. Not a pence of my money shall ever be wasted, and when that day comes, you will have a fine house again, and-"
Fanny began to whimper, sitting up in her mother's lap. She blinked at John, then reached out her arms for him.
"I'll put her to bed, Mother."
"All right, and I will get you something to eat. Then I would like to hear more of Mr. Arnolds and his shop."
John and his mother spent late into the night talking. The fire drew dim, and when John rose to stoke it, Mrs. Thornton said it would be best to go to bed now. John slept easily that night, the first restful sleep in weeks. Hardships were not over, but there was hope for the future, and John looked forward to what the next day would bring.
