As time went on, the goal of his childish ambition was reached--he was sent out to work with the men! And he carried the same spirit with him, always doing his best to oblige those with whom he was working.
He tried hard to learn, and to be a good boy, and he succeeded, fairly well.
He soon became a favourite with Owen, for whom he conceived a great respect and affection, for he observed that whenever there was any special work of any kind to be done it was Owen who did it.

On such occasions, Bert, in his artful, boyish way, would scheme to be sent to assist Owen, and the latter whenever possible used to ask that the boy might be allowed to work with him.
Bert's regard for Owen was equalled in intensity by his dislike of Crass, who was in the habit of jeering at the boy's aspirations.
'There'll be plenty of time for you to think about doin' fancy work after you've learnt to do plain painting,' he would say.
This morning, when he had finished washing up the cups and mugs, Bert returned with them to the kitchen.
'Now let's see,' said Crass, thoughtfully, 'You've put the tea in the pail, I s'pose.' 'Yes.' 'And now you want a job, don't you ?' 'Yes,' replied the boy.
'Well, get a bucket of water and that old brush and a swab, and go and wash off the old whitewash and colouring orf the pantry ceiling and walls.' 'All right,' said Bert.

When he got as far as the door leading into the scullery he looked round and said: 'I've got to git them three bloaters cooked by breakfast time.' 'Never mind about that,' said Crass.

'I'll do them.' Bert got the pail and the brush, drew some water from the tap, got a pair of steps and a short plank, one end of which he rested on the bottom shelf of the pantry and the other on the steps, and proceeded to carry out Crass's instructions.
It was very cold and damp and miserable in the pantry, and the candle only made it seem more so.

Bert shivered: he would like to have put his jacket on, but that was out of the question at a job like this.