Wot does she mean by knockin of im down? asked a small butchers boy, who had come on the scene just too late, of a small bakers boy who had, happily, been there from the beginning.
She means wot she says, replied the small bakers boy with the dignified reticence of superior knowledge, she knocked the constable down.
Wot! a leetle gurl knock a six-foot bobby down?walk-er!
Very good; youve no call to blieve it unless you like, replied the bakers boy, with a look of pity at the unbelieving butcher, but she did it, thoughan thats six month with ard labour, if it aint five year.
At this point the crowd opened up to let a maniac enter. He was breathless, hatless, moist, and frantic.
My child! my darling! my dear Di! he gasped.
Papa! responded Diana, with a little scream, and, leaping into his arms, grasped him in a genuine hug.
Oh! I say, whispered the small butcher, its a melly-drammyall for nuffin!
My! responded the small baker, with a solemn look, wont the Lord left-tenant be down on em for play-actin without a licence, just!
Is the pony killed? inquired Sir Richard, recovering himself.
Not in the least, sir. Ere e is, sir; all alive an kickin, answered the small butcher, delighted to have the chance of making himself offensively useful, but the hinsurance offices wouldnt ave the close-baskit at no price. Shall I order up the remains of your carriage, sir?
Oh! Im so glad hes not dead, said Diana, looking hastily up, but this policeman was nearly killed, and I did it! He saved my life, papa.
A chorus of voices here explained to Sir Richard how Number 666 had come up in the nick of time to receive the flying child upon his bosom.
I am deeply grateful to you, said the knight, turning to the constable, and extending his hand, which the latter shook modestly while disclaiming any merit for having merely performed his dutyhe might say, involuntarily.
Will you come to my house? said Sir Richard. Here is my card. I should like to see you again, and pray, see that some one looks after my pony and
And the remains, suggested the small butcher, seeing that Sir Richard hesitated.
Be so good as to call a cab, said Sir Richard in a general way to any one who chose to obey.
Here you are, sir! cried a peculiarly sharp cabby, who, correctly judging from the state of affairs that his services would be required, had drawn near to bide his time.
Sir Richard and his little daughter got in and were driven home, leaving Number 666 to look after the pony and the remains.
Thus curiously were introduced to each other some of the characters in our tale.
Chapter Two.
The Irresistible Power of Love
Need we remark that there was a great deal of embracing on the part of Di and her nurse when the former returned home? The child was an affectionate creature as well as passionate. The nurse, Mrs Screwbury, was also affectionate without being passionate. Poor Diana had never known a mothers love or care; but good, steady, stout Mrs Screwbury did what in her lay to fill the place of mother.
Sir Richard filled the place of father pretty much as a lamp-post might have done had it owned a child. He illuminated her to some extentexplained things in general, stiffly, and shed a feeble ray around himself; but his light did not extend far. He was proud of her, however, and very fond of herwhen good. When not good, he wasor rather had beenin the habit of dismissing her to the nursery.
Nevertheless, the child exercised very considerable and ever-increasing influence over her father; for, although stiff, the knight was by no means destitute of natural affection, and sometimes observed, with moist eyes, strong traces of resemblance to his lost wife in the beautiful child. Indeed, as years advanced, he became a more and more obedient father, and was obviously on the high road to abject slavery.
Papa, said Di, while they were at luncheon that day, not long after the accident, I am so sorry for that poor policeman. It seems such a dreadful thing to have actually jumped upon him! and oh! you should have heard his poor head hit the pavement, and seen his pretty helmet go spinning along like a boys top, ever so far. I wonder it didnt kill him. Im so sorry.
Di emphasised her sorrow by laughing, for she had a keen sense of the ludicrous, and the memory of the spinning helmet was strong upon her just then.
It must indeed have been an unpleasant blow, replied Sir Richard, gravely, but then, dear, you couldnt help it, you knowand I dare say he is none the worse for it now. Men like him are not easily injured. I fear we cannot say as much for the boy who was holding the pony.
Oh! I quite forgot about him, exclaimed Di; the naughty boy! he wouldnt let go the ponys reins when I bid him, but I saw he tumbled down when we set off.
Yes, he has been somewhat severely punished, I fear, for his disobedience. His leg had been broken. Is it not so, Balls?
Yes, sir, replied the butler, e as ad is
Balls got no farther, for Diana, who had been struck dumb for the moment by the news, recovered herself.
His leg broken! she exclaimed with a look of consternation; Oh! the poor, poor boy!the dear boy! and it was me did that too, as well as knocking down the poor policeman!
There is no saying to what lengths the remorseful child would have gone in the way of self-condemnation if her father had not turned her thoughts from herself by asking what had been done for the boy.
We sent im ome, sir, in a cab.
Im afraid that was a little too prompt, returned the knight thoughtfully. A broken leg requires careful treatment, I suppose. You should have had him into the house, and sent for a doctor.
Balls coughed. He was slightly chagrined to find that the violation of his own humane feelings had been needless, and that his attempt to do as he thought his master would have wished was in vain.
I thought, Sir Richard, that you didnt like the lower orders to go about the ouse more
Again little Di interrupted the butler by asking excitedly where the boys home was.
In the neighbourood of Witechapel, Miss Di.
Then, papa, we will go straight off to see him, said the child, in the tone of one whose mind is fully made up. You and I shall go togetherwont we? good papa!
That will do, Balls, you may go. No, my dear Di, I think we had better not. I will write to one of the city missionaries whom I know, and ask him to
No, but, papadear papa, we must go. The city missionary could never say how very, very sorry I am that he should have broken his leg while helping me. And then I should so like to sit by him and tell him stories, and give him his soup and gruel, and read to him. Poor, poor boy, we must go, papa, wont you?
Not to-day, dear. It is impossible to go to-day. There, now, dont begin to cry. Perhapsperhaps to-morrowbut think, my love; you have no idea how dirtyhow very nastythe places are in which our lower orders live.
Oh! yes I have, said Di eagerly. Havent I seen our nursery on cleaning days?
A faint flicker of a smile passed over the knights countenance.
Oh! yes I have, said Di eagerly. Havent I seen our nursery on cleaning days?
A faint flicker of a smile passed over the knights countenance.
True, darling, but the places are far, far dirtier than that. Then the smells. Oh! they are very dreadful
Whatworse than we have when theres cabbage for dinner?
Yes, much worse than that.
I dont care, papa. We must go to see the boythe poor, poor boy, in spite of dirt and smells. And then, you knowlet me up on your knee and Ill tell you all about it. There! Well, then, you know, Id tidy the room up, and even wash it a little. Oh, you cant think how nicely I washed up my dolls roomher corner, you know,that day when I spilt all her soup in trying to feed her, and then, while trying to wipe it up, I accidentally burst her, and all her inside came outthe sawdust, I mean. It was the worst mess I ever made, but I cleaned it up as well as Jessie herself could have doneso nurse said.
But the messes down in Whitechapel are much worse than you have described, dear, expostulated the parent, who felt that his powers of resistance were going.
So much the better, papa, replied Di, kissing her sires lethargic visage. I should like so much to try if I could clean up something worse than my dolls room. And youve promised, you know.
Noonly said perhaps, returned Sir Richard quickly.
Well, thats the same thing; and now that its all nicely settled, Ill go and see nurse. Good-bye, papa.
Good-bye, dear, returned the knight, resigning himself to his fate and the newspaper.
Chapter Three.
Poverty Manages to Board out her Infant for Nothing
On the night of the day about which we have been writing, a woman, dressed in unwomanly rags crept out of the shadow of the houses near London Bridge. She was a thin, middle-aged woman, with a countenance from which sorrow, suffering, and sin had not been able to obliterate entirely the traces of beauty. She carried a bundle in her arms which was easily recognisable as a baby, from the careful and affectionate manner in which the womans thin, out-spread fingers grasped it.
Hurrying on to the bridge till she reached the middle of one of the arches, she paused and looked over. The Thames was black and gurgling, for it was intensely dark, and the tide half ebb at the time. The turbid waters chafed noisily on the stone piers as if the sins and sorrows of the great city had been somehow communicated to them.
But the distance from the parapet to the surface of the stream was great. It seemed awful in the womans eyes. She shuddered and drew back.
Oh! for courageonly for one minute! she murmured, clasping the bundle closer to her breast.
The action drew off a corner of the scanty rag which she called a shawl, and revealed a small and round, yet exceedingly thin face, the black eyes of which seemed to gaze in solemn wonder at the scene of darkness visible which was revealed. The woman stood between two lamps in the darkest place she could find, but enough of light reached her to glitter in the babys solemn eyes as they met her gaze, and it made a pitiful attempt to smile as it recognised its mother.
God help me! I cant, muttered the woman with a shiver, as if an ice-block had touched her heart.
She drew the rag hastily over the babys head again, pressed it closer to her breast, retraced her steps, and dived into the shadows from which she had emerged.
This was one of the lower orders to whom Sir Richard Brandon had such an objection, whom he found it, he said, so difficult to deal with, (no wonder, for he never tried to deal with them at all, in any sense worthy of the name), and whom it was, he said, useless to assist, because all he could do in such a vast accumulation of poverty would be a mere drop in the bucket. Hence Sir Richard thought it best to keep the drop in his pocket where it could be felt and do goodat least to himself, rather than dissipate it in an almost empty bucket. The bucket, however, was not quite emptythanks to a few thousands of people who differed from the knight upon that point.
The thin woman hastened through the streets as regardless of passers-by as they were of her, until she reached the neighbourhood of Commercial Street, Spitalfields.
Here she paused and looked anxiously round her. She had left the main thoroughfare, and the spot on which she stood was dimly lighted. Whatever she looked or waited for, did not, however, soon appear, for she stood under a lamp-post, muttering to herself, I must git rid of it. Better to do so than see it starved to death before my eyes.
Presently a foot-fall was heard, and a man drew near. The woman gazed intently into his face. It was not a pleasant face. There was a scowl on it. She drew back and let him pass. Then several women passed, but she took no notice of them. Then another man appeared. His face seemed a jolly one. The woman stepped forward at once and confronted him.
Please, sir, she began, but the man was too sharp for her.
Come nowyouve brought out that baby on purpose to humbug people with it. Dont fancy youll throw dust in my eyes. Im too old a cock for that. Dont you know that youre breaking the law by begging?
Im not begging, retorted the woman, almost fiercely.
Oh! indeed. Why do you stop me, then?
I merely wished to ask if your name is Thompson.
Ah hem! ejaculated the man with a broad grin, well no, madam, my name is not Thompson.
Well, then, rejoined the woman, still indignantly, you may move on.
She had used an expression all too familiar to herself, and the man, obeying the order with a bow and a mocking laugh, disappeared like those who had gone before him.
For some time no one else appeared save a policeman. When he approached, the woman went past him down the street, as if bent on some business, but when he was out of sight she returned to the old spot, which was near the entrance to an alley.
At last the womans patience was rewarded by the sight of a burly little elderly man, whose face of benignity was unmistakably genuine. Remembering the previous mans reference to the baby, she covered it up carefully, and held it more like a bundle.
Stepping up to the newcomer at once, she put the same question as to name, and also asked if he lived in Russell Square.
No, my good woman, replied the burly little man, with a look of mingled surprise and pity, my name is not Thompson. It is TwitterSamuel Twitter, of Twitter, Slime and, but, he added, checking himself, under a sudden and rare impulse of prudence, why do you ask my name and address?
The woman gave an almost hysterical laugh at having been so successful in her somewhat clumsy scheme, and, without uttering another word, darted down the alley. She passed rapidly round by a back way to another point of the same street she had leftwell ahead of the spot where she had stood so long and so patiently that night. Here she suddenly uncovered the babys face and kissed it passionately for a few moments. Then, wrapping it in the ragged shawl, with its little head out, she laid it on the middle of the footpath full in the light of a lamp, and retired to await the result.
When the woman rushed away, as above related, Mr Samuel Twitter stood for some minutes rooted to the spot, lost in amazement. He was found in that condition by the returning policeman.