Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1876-06-07
nv evil spirit, and that now he's GONE

my evil spirit, and that now he's gone I
shall make a start in the world" But
[ hadn't reckoned upon his having a
son.
l had been at my new work for about
a fortnight wnen one evening on our
downward journey, after we had passed
Redcap, began to collect the fares.
There were only three passengers in the
bus. One of them was fresh-looking
country girl, who, as soon as I called
Fares, please" began to search her
pockets. Then she flushed up quite
crimson all of sudden. "Dear me-"
she cried, GIVE lost my purse /" Well,
very respectfully dressed, with sallow
waxy face and little pigs eyes, and he
looked at her quite angrily. "Lost
your purse" says he. You mean
you've left it at home on the drawing
room chimney-piece," he said with
sheer Well, / could see the poor cir,
was almost in tears about it, so spoke
to her and told her that as far as the
loss of the purse went it was bad Job
for her, but that she needn't be
troubled about not paying the fare, be-
cause she could let me have itnext time
she saw me. With that she began to
tell me there was one pound fifteen
shillings in the purse, and that she was
going to a place as nurse-maid at
Haverstock hill, and that the purse con-
tanned all the money she was worth
She had been standing waiting for the
bus some time at Charing- cross and
supposed somebody had taken it out of
her pocket
was very sorry for her, and said
what | could to comfort her, and when
we came to the Shipton I showed her
the way to the place she was going to-
II Judkin place. l noticed that the
sallow faced man started when she told
me the address, and seemed to look
rather bard at her, and looked hard at
me, too, when she asked me who she
should inquire for to pay the money
back, and [ told her my real name
Dick Maylam.
began now to take notice Of the
regular customers, and found that the
sallow faced man travelled by us pretty
regularly. A spiteful chap he was, too.
He'd hit wildly out with his umbrella
handle when he wanted to get out, as if
conductors had no feelings in their ell
bow joints. He always offered me two
pence, to fer threepenny fare on the
chance that I'd take it by mistake.
One night, when went to the office
On my last journey, the bookkeeper
said to me:
Maylam, you're .ninepence short in
your cash."
q think not" said; for I was al
ways very careful of the cash, and to
keep the way bills right, and 1 was SO
'cute that | always put private mark
against the last fare on each line, so
that nobody could stick down any fig
ures after me.
Such of you as travel in your own
carriages and don't use the omnibuses,
mayn't know what these way bills are.
They are a Manchester invention, be-
lieve, and are slips of thin paper with
cross lines twelve spaces in a row, and
as many rows as there are different
fares. Mine had three rows for two
penny, threepenny and fourpenny
faces. You put them in a little frame
that opens with hinge and is screwed
on to the door of the bus, and every
fare you draw you mark on the bill.
Well, as soon as the bookkeeper told
me | was short in my cash, l said: " Let
us look at the way-bills," feeling sure
he'd either made mistake or wanted
to plumber NE; but l reckoned them all
up carefully and found that the man
was right. must have lost the money.
l made it up out of my own pocket,
and resolved to be more careful anoth-
er time. But the next day it was the
same ninepence short again. Then for
two days was right; after that another
ninepence to the bad.
"You must be careful, Maylam,"
said the man, "and don't let it happen
again; for if it does 1 shall report you
as always being short"
But it did happen again and again,
sometimes sixpence, sometimes nine
pence, sometimes shilling, and I
couldn't find out how it went. I was
wellnigh driven mad by it, for l knew
[ should lose my place if it happened
much oftener, and brood over it as I
might could fathom it in no way. I
was always particular in giving change,
and nobody could get at nv money,
which kept In the leather wallet pro-
vided by the company.
At last word came down one day that
[ was to have the sack at the weeks
end, and then I can tell you I felt
downright bad. There wasn't much
chance of my getting another place, as
private owners are few, and besides,
the company would most likely refuse
to give mea character. I didn't know
what to turn to, and couldn't see any
thing before me but starvation. Those
sort of feelings don't help man to get
through his work smartly, and I got
worse and worse muddled as the day
went on. People abused me for not
setting them down where they told me,
and altogether was well-nigh distract
ed.
1t was damp, dismal afternoon, and
when we stopped at the corner of Ok
ford street and Tottenham Court road
there was great rush of people to get
into the omnibus. Among them was a
widow lady in deep black, and with her
was our sallow-faced friend. It was