Tobias checked his pocket watch - his new one, for his father's watch had never been recovered and he doubted it would. He made a round of all the pawnshops whenever he was in Whitby, but so far he had had no luck, and he suspected that the robbers had sold their wares somewhere else. His new watch was of a more modern, elegant design and it opened more easily, but every time it lay in his hand, it just didn't feel right. The number of times he had seen his father take out that watch to check the hour.

A quarter past eleven. He was early. It was sunny day, but not too hot, and he had chosen the valley road, which was cooler and easier on the horses, though he personally preferred the moors. Tobias was here to sell produce, and then go to the bank, do some business, and do another doomed round of the pawn shops. 

He took in a moment to take in the busy harbour, the train station where tourists where coming and going, the warehouses by the quay. He liked watching it, but he always liked leaving the bustle of the town behind even more.

Tobias got down from the wagon and led the horses to a drinking trough. There, he undid the mouthpieces and let them drink, keeping an eye on the wagon and its goods while holding the horses.

Edmund's pockets were not completely barren for the first time in weeks, but the slight weight of coin did not bring him any sort of ease.  It would be gone again soon anyway, is if it was never there to begin with.  He needed new shoes; his current pair were slowly but surely becoming less and less functional to his disappointment.  Leather seems were ripping away from each other and more than one clasp on each had fallen off, the laces wearing thin as hair.

So he was about the streets of Whitby, stalling before making his selfish purchase.  And then he'd be left again to wander to look for any spare job he could acquire, or an unaware person's pocket at least.  Ideally, Edmund would keep some spare change for Mable-related-emergencies, and he was about to throw all of such savings out on shoes - for himself.

He was walking slowly, feeling very sorry for himself when a noise from behind caught his attention.  Belatedly, Edmund turned and moved out of the way of a horse drawn wagon being driven by a man.  The second thing that caught Edmund's attention was the contents of the wagon.

For just a moment Edmund was still, an idea forming very slowly in his brain as the wagon continued before he could get his  legs to move, following after it at a hopefully not suspicious jog until it stopped.  The man got out to let the horses drink, and Edmund hesitated again before seizing the opportunity before him.

"Sir!" he called, "pardon me sir, but I saw - is that, um - are you - do you own a farm, sir?  I saw your wagon and - lovely horses you have there, too..."

Tobias looked up to see where the voice came from and was surprised to see a short and rather frail looking teenage boy. The accent was foreign. The conversation... random. Tobias glanced over his cart, to see if there was anyone near it, possibly trying to steal goods. It did seem to him that the boy's incoherent question and comments were meant as a distraction.

"Aye... I do," he said slowly, glancing between the boy and his load. He wasn't going to get something nicked off of him a second time. "What do you want?"

The horses stopped drinking and moved back and forth nervously.

Straight to the point, then.  At least if he was rejected, it would come quickly.

"I - well, I grew up on a farm myself, sir.  Even ran it myself when my dad - fell ill.  So I'm very resourceful, if - if you're in need of a farm hand."

Edmund tried not to appear intimidated by the man's stature.  He was very aware of how much smaller he was in comparison, and of the state of his clothes.  The man wouldn't give Edmund a fighting chance if he couldn't even look him in the eye, though, so the boy did his very best not to let his gaze stray.

Tobias inspected the boy. Looking for a job, was he? That made more sense, though Tobias was still suspicious. Normally people responded to ads in the newspaper or to the mouth to mouth word. He had never had someone come up to him and ask him for a job out of nowhere before. The kid seemed nervous too.

He cast another glance at the cart. Nobody there. He steadied his grip on the horses' reign and brought them back to the trough, before turning back to the boy. "I already have a permanent help. Don't need another. Sorry, lad..."

He hesitated. "I'll be hiring for shorter jobs soon, haymaking, first potatoes, that stuff. What's your name, son? Where are ye from?" Another glance at the wagon.

Edmund had been expecting it, but still felt a stab of disappointment before the man even spoke.  The hesitation was enough.

He nodded at the apology and started a half step back, but paused when the man continued.

"Edmund," was his quick response, almost natural now.  Pleasant surprise was evident on his face and in his voice.  "Edmund Reynolds, I'm - I came from the states recently.  I'm staying in a hotel for the time being.  And I'm very good at haymaking and potatoes, sir.  Lot's of things like that."

"At a hotel?" Tobias responded almost immediately. That sounded like a load of shit. Why would a boy dressed like him and looking for a job be staying at a hotel? "Which one?" he asked, more as a test than out of interest. He quickly glanced at the cart again. Nobody there. Or were they unloading from the other side?

What?  This man wanted to know - which hotel..?  And he kept glancing at his cart like Edmund was somehow going to rob him while talking to him.  Why was this so humiliating?

"Truthfully sir, I don't know," he admitted.  "I can't - I can't read the sign, but it's close to the church on the East side of town.  A priest at St. Hilda's lead me there and paid for the room."

Couldn't read? At his age, Tobias would have expected... ah right, the kid wasn't from Britain, but from the United States where apparently not all children went to school. Barbaric.

"Alright listen, son. I have a few things to do in town. Meet me back here at three 'o clock and we can discuss the terms." It would be a good test to see whether the kid was reliable and responsible. More importantly, he intended to see that priest to see whether the kid was telling him the truth. In his experience, priests didn't just put kids in hotel rooms like that. Didn't they have orphanages? If the kid was lying, he'd know he didn't want him on the farm. "It's quite a long way out, though. Ye won't be able to travel up and down every day, as we start early at t' farm. So ye'll need to stay somewhere closeby for the time ye work there."

Somehow, being called son was not the most surprising thing about what the man said to Edmund.  How could it be, when a genuine job, however sort term, was so close within reach?

"Not a problem, sir, none of that," he assured the man, even if his mind was racing.  Being away from Whitby felt like a blessing, but - Mable.  He would have to leave her here all on her own.  Father Brennan was just down the street, but he couldn't just push his sister onto the man for however long.  Would this man let him bring her along for the job?

Would she even want to come?

"Thank you very much sir, I mean it," Edmund continued.  "I'll be here at three, I swear.  You - you won't be disappointed!"