"But I didn't know anything about it, mother. I don't know what they mean by saying that we would rather have it than watches. Of course we would, a hundred times; but I don't know how they knew it."

"Then it must have been your kind thought, Bill."

"It wasn't no kind thought, Mrs. Andrews, but they spoke to me about it, and I knew that a piano was what we should like better than anything else, and I didn't say anything about it, because Bob Grimstone thought that it would be nicer to be a surprise to George as well as to you."

"You are right, old boy," George said, shaking Bill by the hand; "why, there never was such a good idea; it is splendid, mother, isn't it?"

The men now appeared at the door with the piano. This was at once placed in the position which had long ago been decided upon as the best place for the piano when it should come. Mrs. Andrews opened it, and there on the front was a silver plate with the inscription:

"To Mrs. Andrews from the Employees at Messrs. Penrose & Co., in token of their grat.i.tude to George Andrews and William Smith for their courage and presence of mind, by which the factory was saved from being destroyed by fire on Sat.u.r.day the 23d of October, 1857."

The tears which stood in Mrs. Andrews' eyes rendered it difficult for her to read the inscription.

"I thank you, indeed," she said. "Now, perhaps you would like to hear its tones." So saying she sat down and played "Home, Sweet Home." "It has a charming touch," she said as she rose, "and, you see, the air was an appropriate one, for your gift will serve to make home even sweeter than before. Give, please, my grateful thanks, and those of my boys, to all who have subscribed."

The inhabitants of No. 8 Laburnum Villas had long been a subject of considerable discussion and interest to their neighbors, for the appearance of the boys as they came home of an evening in their working clothes seemed altogether incongruous with that of their mother and with the neatness and prettiness of the villa, and was, indeed, considered derogatory to the respectability of Laburnum Villas in general. Upon this evening they were still further mystified at hearing the notes of a female voice of great power and sweetness, accompanied by a piano, played evidently by an accomplished musician, issuing from the house. As to the boys, they thought that, next only to that of the home-coming of Mrs. Andrews, never was such a happy evening spent in the world.

I do not think that in all London there was a household that enjoyed that winter more than did the inmates of No. 8 Laburnum Villas. Their total earnings were about thirty-five shillings a week, much less than that of many a mechanic, but ample for them not only to live, but to live in comfort and even refinement. No stranger, who had looked into the pretty drawing room in the evening, would have dreamed that the lady at the piano worked as a milliner for her living, or that the lads were boys in a manufactory.

When spring came they began to plan various trips and excursions which could be taken on bank holidays or during the long summer evenings, when an event happened which, for a time, cut short all their plans.

The word had been pa.s.sed round the shops the first thing in the morning that Mr. Penrose was coming down with a party of ladies and gentlemen to go over the works, and that things were to be made as tidy as possible.

Accordingly there was a general clearing up, and vast quant.i.ties of shavings and sawdust were swept up from the floors, although when the machines had run again for a few hours no one would have thought that a broom had been seen in the place for weeks.

George was now in a shop where a number of machines were at work grooving, mortising, and performing other work to prepare the wood for builders' purposes. The party arrived just as work had recommenced after dinner.

There were ten or twelve gentlemen and as many ladies. Nelly Penrose, with two girls about her own age, accompanied the party. They stopped for a time in each shop while Mr. Penrose explained the nature of the work and the various points of the machinery.

They had pa.s.sed through most of the other rooms before they entered that in which George was engaged, and the young girls, taking but little interest in the details of the machinery, wandered somewhat away from the rest of the party, chatting among themselves. George had his eye upon them, and was wishing that Mr. Penrose would turn round and speak to them, for they were moving about carelessly and not paying sufficient heed to the machinery.

Suddenly he threw down his work and darted forward with a shout; but he was too late, a revolving-band had caught Nelly Penrose's dress. In an instant she was dragged forward and in another moment would have been whirled into the middle of the machinery.

There was a violent scream, followed by a sudden crash and a harsh grating sound, and then the whole of the machinery on that side of the room came to a standstill. For a moment no one knew what had happened. Mr. Penrose and some of his friends rushed forward to raise Nelly. Her hand was held fast between the band and the pulley, and the band had to be cut to relieve it.

"What an escape! what an escape!" Mr. Penrose murmured, as he lifted her. "Another second and nothing could have saved her. But what stopped the machinery?" and for the first time he looked round the shop. There was a little group of men a few yards away, and, having handed Nelly, who was crying bitterly, for her hand was much bruised, to one of the ladies, he stepped towards them. The foreman came forward to meet him.

"I think, sir, you had better get the ladies out of the shop. I am afraid young Andrews is badly hurt."

"How is it? What is the matter?" Mr. Penrose asked.

"I think, sir, he saw the danger your daughter was in, and shoved his foot in between two of the cog-wheels."

"You don't say so!" Mr. Penrose exclaimed, as he pushed forward among the men.

Two of them were supporting George Andrews, who, as pale as death, lay in their arms. One of his feet was jammed in between two of the cog-wheels. He was scarcely conscious.

"Good Heavens," Mr. Penrose exclaimed in a low tone, "his foot must be completely crushed! Have you thrown off the driving belt, Williams?"

"Yes, sir, I did that first thing."

"That's right; now work away for your lives, lads." This was said to two men who had already seized spanners and were uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the bolts of the bearings in order to enable the upper shafting to be lifted and the cog-wheel removed. Then Mr. Penrose returned to his friends.

"Pray leave the shop," he said, "and go down into the office. There's been a bad accident; a n.o.ble young fellow has sacrificed himself to save Nelly's life, and is, I fear, terribly hurt. Williams, send off a man instantly for the surgeon. Let him jump into one of the cabs he will find waiting at the gate, and tell the man to drive as hard as he can go. If Dr. Maxwell is not at home let him fetch someone else."

George had indeed sacrificed himself to save Nelly Penrose. When he saw the band catch her dress he had looked round for an instant for something with which to stop the machinery, but there was nothing at hand, and without an instant's hesitation he had thrust his foot between the cog-wheels. He had on very heavy, thickly nailed working boots, and the iron-bound sole threw the cogs out of gear and bent the shaft, thereby stopping the machinery. George felt a dull, sickening pain, which seemed to numb and paralyze him all over, and he remembered little more until, on the shafting being removed, his foot was extricated and he was laid gently down on a heap of shavings. The first thing he realized when he was conscious was that someone was pouring some liquid, which half-choked him, down his throat.

When he opened his eyes, Mr. Penrose, kneeling beside him, was supporting his head, while on the other side knelt Bill Smith, the tears streaming down his cheeks and struggling to suppress his sobs.

"What is it, Bill? What's the matter?" Then the remembrance of what had pa.s.sed flashed upon him.

"Is she safe; was I in time?"

"Quite safe, my dear boy. Thank G.o.d, your n.o.ble sacrifice was not in vain," Mr. Penrose answered with quivering lips, for he too had the greatest difficulty in restraining his emotion.

"Am I badly hurt, sir?" George asked after a pause, "because, if so, will you please send home for mother? I don't feel in any pain, but I feel strange and weak."

"It is your foot, my boy. I fear that it is badly crushed, but otherwise you are unhurt. Your boot threw the machinery out of gear."

In ten minutes the doctor arrived. He had already been informed of the nature of the accident.

"Is it any use trying to cut the boot off?" Mr. Penrose asked in a low voice as Dr. Maxwell stooped over George's leg.

"Not the slightest," the doctor answered in the same tone. "The foot is crushed to a pulp. It must come off at the ankle. Nothing can save it. He had better be taken home at once. You had best send to Guy's and get an operating surgeon for him. I would rather it were done by someone whose hand is more used than mine to this sort of work."

"I am a governor of Guy's," Mr. Penrose said, "and will send off at once for one of their best men. You are not afraid of the case, I hope, Dr. Maxwell?"

"Not of the local injury," Dr. Maxwell replied; "but the shock to the system of such a smash is very severe. However, he has youth, strength, and a good const.i.tution, so we must hope for the best. The chances are all in his favor. We are thinking of taking you home, my boy," he went on, speaking aloud to George. "Are you in any great pain?"

"I am not in any pain, sir; only I feel awfully cold, and, please, will someone go on before and tell mother. Bill had better not go; he would frighten her to death and make her think it was much worse than it is."

"I will go myself," Mr. Penrose replied. "I will prepare her for your coming."

"Drink some more of this brandy," the doctor said; "that will warm you and give you strength for your journey."

There was a stretcher always kept at the works in case of emergency, and George was placed on this and covered with some rugs. Four of the men raised it onto their shoulders and set out, Mr. Penrose at once driving on to prepare Mrs. Andrews.

Bill followed the procession heart-broken. When it neared home he fell behind and wandered away, not being able to bring himself to witness the grief of Mrs. Andrews. For hours he wandered about, sitting down in waste places and crying as if his heart would break.

"If it had been me it wouldn't have mattered," he kept on exclaiming--"wouldn't have mattered a bit. It wouldn't have been no odds one way or the other. There, we have always been together in the shops till this week, and now when we get separated this is what comes of it. Here am I, walking about all right, and George all crushed up, and his mother breaking her heart. Why, I would rather a hundred times that they had smashed me up all over than have gone and hurt George like that!"

It was dark before he made his way back, and, entering at the back door, took off his boots, and was about to creep upstairs when Mrs.

Andrews came out of the kitchen.

"Oh, Mrs. Andrews!" he exclaimed, and the tears again burst from him.

"Do not cry, Bill; George is in G.o.d's hands, and the doctors have every hope that he will recover. They are upstairs with him now, with a nurse whom Mr. Penrose has fetched down from the hospital. He will have to lose his foot, poor boy," she added with a sob that she could not repress, "but we should feel very thankful that it is no worse after such an accident as that. The doctor says that his thick boots saved him. If it hadn't been for that his whole leg would have been drawn into the machinery, and then nothing could have saved him. Now I must go upstairs, as I only came down for some hot water."

"May I go up to him, Mrs. Andrews?"