Tom, meanwhile, had shown no disposition to rely on any one but himself, though, with a natural sensitiveness towards all indications of favourable opinion, he was glad to see his uncle Glegg look in on him sometimes in a friendly way during business hours, and glad to be invited to dine at his house, though he usually preferred declining on the ground that he was not sure of being punctual.But about a year ago something had occurred which induced Tom to test his uncle Glegg's friendly disposition.
Bob Jakin, who rarely returned from one of his rounds without seeing Tom and Maggie, awaited him on the bridge as he was coming home from St Ogg's one evening, that they might have a little private talk, He took the liberty of asking if Mr Tom had ever thought of making money by trading a bit on his own account.Trading, how? Tom wished to know.Why, by sending out a bit of a cargo to foreign ports; because Bob had a particular friend who had offered to do a little business for him in that way, in Laceham goods, and would be glad to serve Mr Tom on the same footing.Tom was interested at once, and begged for full explanation; wondering he had not thought of this plan before.He was so well pleased with the prospect of a speculation that might change the slow process of addition into multiplication, that he at once determined to mention the matter to his father and get his consent to appropriate some of the savings in the tin box to the purchase of a small cargo.He would rather not have consulted his father, but he had just paid his last quarter's money into the tin box, and there was no other resource.All the savings were there: for Mr Tulliver would not consent to put the money out at interest lest he should lose it.Since he had speculated in the purchase of some corn and had lost by it, he could not be easy without keeping the money under his eye.
Tom approached the subject carefully, as he was seated on the hearth with his father that evening, and Mr Tulliver listened, learning forward in his armchair and looking up in Tom's face with a sceptical glance.His first impulse was to give a positive refusal, but he was in some awe of Tom's wishes, and since he had had the sense of being an `unlucky' father, he had lost some of his old peremptoriness and determination to be master.
He took the key of the bureau from his pocket, got out the key of the large chest, and fetched down the tin box - slowly, as if he were trying to defer the moment of a painful parting.Then he seated himself against the table and opened the box with that little padlock-key which he fingered in his waistcoat pocket in all vacant moments.There they were, the dingy bank notes and the bright sovereigns, and he counted them out on the table -only a hundred and sixteen pounds in two years, after all the pinching.
`How much do you want, then?' he said, speaking as if the words burnt his lips.
`Suppose I begin with the thirty six pounds, father?' said Tom.
Mr Tulliver separated this sum from the rest, and keeping his hand over it, said, `It's as much as I can save out o' my pay in a year.'
`Yes, father: it is such work - saving out of the little money we get.
And in this way we might double our savings.'
`Ay, my lad,' said the father, keeping his hand on the money, `but you might lose it - you might lose a year o' my life - and I haven't got many.'
Tom was silent.
`And you know I wouldn't pay a dividend with the first hundred, because I wanted to see it all in a lump - and when I see it, I'm sure on't.If you trust to luck, it's sure to be against me.It's Old Harry's got the luck in his hands.And if I lose one year, I shall never pick it up again - death 'ull o'ertake me.'
Mr Tulliver's voice trembled, and Tom was silent for a few minutes before he said, `I'll give it up, father, since you object to it so strongly.'
But, unwilling to abandon the scheme altogether, he determined to ask his uncle Glegg to venture twenty pounds, on condition of receiving five per cent of the profits.That was really a very small thing to ask.So when Bob called the next day at the Wharf to know the decision, Tom proposed that they should go together to his uncle Glegg's to open the business;for his diffident pride clung to him, and made him feel that Bob's tongue would relieve him from some embarrassment.
Mr Glegg, at the pleasant hour of four in the afternoon of a hot August day, was naturally counting his wall-fruit to assure himself that the sum total had not varied since yesterday.To him entered Tom, in what appeared to Mr Glegg very questionable companionship - that of a man with a pack on his back - for Bob was equipped for a new journey - and of a huge brindled bull-terrier, who walked with a slow swaying movement from side to side, and glanced from under his eyelids with a surly indifference which might after all be a cover to the most offensive designs.Mr Glegg's spectacles, which had been assisting him in counting the fruit, made these suspicious details alarmingly evident to him.
`Heigh! Heigh! Keep that dog back, will you,' he shouted, snatching up a stake and holding it before him as a shield when the visitors were within three yards of him.
`Get out wi' you, Mumps,' said Bob, with a kick.`He's as quiet as a lamb, sir,' - an observation which Mumps corroborated by a low growl as he retreated behind his master's legs.
`Why, whatever does this mean, Tom?' said Mr Glegg.`Have you brought information about the scoundrels as cut my trees?' If Bob came in the character of `information,' Mr Glegg saw reasons for tolerating some irregularity.
`No, sir,' said Tom.`I came to speak to you about a little matter of business of my own.'
`Ay - well - but what has this dog got to do with it?' said the old gentleman, getting mild again.
`It's my dog, sir,' said the ready Bob.`An' it's me as put Mr Tom up to the bit o' business, for Mr Tom's been a friend o' mine iver since Iwor little chap - fust thing iver I did was frightenin' the birds for th'
