“And what, sir, do you have for education?” he asked.
“I am good at reading and writing and mathematics. Oh, and I know some Latin.” His close scrutiny made me uncomfortable, and I glanced back at the birds in the window. “And I can carve a true likeness,” I said, quickly withdrawing from my burlap bag two miniature birds and a rabbit I had whittled recently. I placed them on the counter.
“Oh!” he said in surprise. He picked them up and held them to the light to study their silhouette. “These are quite remarkable,” he said, but again he looked at my affected eye. “Does your eye give you trouble when you do close-up work? Does it tire easily?”
“No,” I said, “my eye is good.”
He set the rabbit down on the counter, then positioned the birds on either side of it. He fussed with their placement until he was satisfied, then stepped back to look at them again. “As miniatures, these are quite exceptional,” he repeated.
Quickly, I dug out my sketchbook. “I’m good at drawing birds, but I can draw other things as well.”
He took the small pad from my hand and slowly paged through, then closed it and handed it back to me.
“I didn’t have paint,” I said, “they would be much better—”
He raised his hand to stop me. “You have quite a talent, young man.”
I saw hope. “Could I work here, then?”
“Tell me, where are you from?” he asked.
The question so startled me that my mouth went dry. “I’m from Virginia,” I said, “and I need to work.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, let me put it to you this way. You say you wish employment, and it appears you have a great talent. I believe you could be well suited to this work. Your speech and dress suggest a certain refinement, but the scent of you and the outright dirt on your clothing have me questioning what you are about.”
I looked down at myself. I had always been particular in my clothing and fastidious in my personal grooming, but in these past weeks out in the woods, I had forgotten my careful habits. I reached up and smoothed back my long hair, which had not seen water nor a brush since I had lost my satchel. What had I been thinking, to present myself this way? My face was hot when I turned away, but as I hastened for the exit, he called out, “Young man!”
I stopped to look back, my face burning.
“Cleanliness is what I am after. If you are interested, do as I suggest, then come back to see me before the week is up.”
Wanting only to escape, I nodded, then made a quick exit. Henry caught up to me as I briskly walked ahead. “The man got no work?”
“He said that I was a filthy pig,” I said.
“A pig!” Henry said. “He said you a pig!”
“Well, not in those words. He told me I need to get cleaned up.”
“Then he gives you the job?”
“I’ll never know,” I said.
“Why you never know?”
“Because he insulted me! I’m not going back,” I said.
Henry looked about to make certain that we were alone, then he spoke in a low voice. “Now you thinkin’ like a white boy. How you get ahead like that? You want somethin’, you got to fight for it! That mean you got to get cleaned up and go on back there.”
Furious, I strode on, but as I began to pass by some clothing shops, my fury lessened. I finally stopped in front of one display window that featured a white shirt and a beautifully tailored green velvet dress jacket. The gold lettering on the window read “Gentlemen’s Clothing.”
“Go on in,” Henry encouraged. “Get you some new clothes. You got the money.”
Embarrassed now at my appearance, I was reluctant to enter, but smarting from the silversmith’s insults, I went in, determined to clean myself up. On my exit, I carried a new leather satchel packed with three white cotton shirts, two pairs of dark breeches, a black jacket, some stockings, and a fine pair of black shoes. I also now owned scissors, a hairbrush, and a sandalwood-scented bar of soap.
I handed Henry a shining black satchel similar to my brown one. “Open it,” I said.
He gave me a look of surprise as he dug though his bag to find a new muslin shirt, a bar of soap, and a wooden hairbrush. He smelled the soap and said nothing, but from his slight smile, I could tell he was pleased.
FOR TWO DAYS I could not find the courage to return to the city, but by the third day, Henry insisted I go. I had scrubbed myself clean and was dressed in my new clothing when Henry again led me through the woods, but this time when we came to the road, he handed me my satchel and encouraged me on my way.
“Aren’t you coming?” I asked, alarmed.
“Time we cut ties,” he said, avoiding my eyes.
I looked around, trying to think of an excuse to have him come with me. “Maybe I shouldn’t go today. It looks like it’s going to rain,” I said.
Henry looked at the sky. “Rain or shine, you got to go,” he said. I was about to plead, but his face hardened. “Go on, now. Time you git goin’. Go on, now, and do somethin’ with yourself.”
I didn’t know what else to do, what else to say. My throat seized up, and fearing that I might start to cry, I abruptly turned and walked away. I knew why Henry was sending me away, but I felt he was all I had left of family, and I was heartsick at leaving him. When tears fell, I wiped them away, but hungry for a last sight of him, I turned back to wave. He was already gone, and it took everything in me not to run back into the woods to find him.
I waited awhile, hoping he might come forth to surprise me, but finally, I turned back to the road and forced myself on. By the time another farmer on his way to the market offered me a ride, my new shoes had rubbed my heels raw, and I was happy to accept. This wagon box was filled with baskets of alarmed chickens and I was grateful for the din, as it provided little opportunity for talk.
Once in town, I went in search of the silversmith shop. By the time I found my way there, my feet were burning from blisters. Though the sign for help was still in the window next to the silver birds, I dreaded entering, sure of rejection.
I dusted my pants clean and brushed at the front of my jacket, then stepped in to meet the same man who had seen fit to tell me to bathe. Surprisingly, he recognized me and greeted me with some enthusiasm.
“So,” he said, “you are back!” He came from behind the display case to look me over. “I see you took my advice.”
“I did,” I said, gripping tight to my satchel.
“I am pleased to see you,” he said.
“You are?”
“I am! You have a talent, my boy. I was hoping that you would return. And now I see that you can accept direction.”
I wasn’t sure what to feel.
“So why did you return?” he asked.
“I need to work,” I said.
“You would be willing to clean the floors?”
“Well, yes, I can clean floors if you show me how,” I said, “but I would rather like to learn to work with silver.”
“We could arrange for that, but it would take years to learn the craft,” he said.
“Years?” I asked.
“Yes, but first you would have to start with cleaning the shop and running errands.”
“Would you pay me?” I asked.
“Not if you are my apprentice.” My face must have fallen, for he added, “But you will learn a trade, and while you are with me, I will supply your food and some coins as you might need them.”
“I will need them,” I said.
“Did you consult with your family?”
“I had only my grandmother,” I said.
“Your grandmother? And where is she?”
I wasn’t prepared for the question. “She was in a fire. She died,” I blurted out.
“And your parents?” he asked.
“Umm . . . they are dead,” I lied. “I have no one.” Unexpectedly, for the second time that day, I fought tears, and when one slipped down my face, I quickly wiped it away with my jacket sleeve. “I don’t like to talk about my grandmother,” I said as explanation, though truthfully, it was more likely the strain of leaving Henry and now my fear of being caught in a lie.
The man gave me a moment before he asked, “And what is your name?”