Chapter XVII.

The baker's cart.


The sweepings of the mill-floor did not last them long, and by the
time they saw rising before them the spires and chimneys of the small
county town to which the road had been leading them, they were very
hungry indeed--as hungry as they well could be without having begun to
grow faint. The moment he saw them, Clare began revolving in his mind
once more, as many times on the way, what he was to do to get work:
Tommy of course was too small to do anything, and Clare must earn
enough for both. He could think of nothing but going into the shops,
or knocking at the house-doors, and asking for something to do. So
filled was he with his need of work, and with the undefined sense of a
claim for work, that he never thought how much against him must be the
outward appearance which had so dismayed himself when he saw it in the
pond; never thought how unwilling any one would be to employ him, or
what a disadvantage was the company of Tommy, who had every mark of a
born thief.

I do not know if, on his tramps, Tommy had been in a town before, but
to Clare all he saw bore the aspect of perfect novelty,
notwithstanding the few city-shapes that floated in faintest shadow,
like memories of old dreams, in his brain. He was delighted with the
grand look of the place, with its many people and many shops. His hope
of work at once became brilliant and convincing.