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diff --git a/40569-0.txt b/40569-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7eb1289 --- /dev/null +++ b/40569-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4509 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40569 *** + +TALES OF MEAN STREETS + + +LIZERUNT + +SQUIRE NAPPER + +WITHOUT VISIBLE MEANS + +THREE ROUNDS + +And Others + +BY +ARTHUR MORRISON + + +BOSTON +ROBERTS BROTHERS +1895 + + +_Copyright, 1895,_ +BY ROBERTS BROTHERS. + +_All rights reserved._ + +University Press: +JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. + + +TO + +WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY + + +NOTE.--_The greater number of these stories and studies were first +printed in_ The National Observer; _the introduction, in a slightly +different form, in_ Macmillan's Magazine; _"That Brute Simmons" and "A +Conversion" have been published in_ The Pall Mall Budget; _and "The Red +Cow Group" is new._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + PAGE +INTRODUCTION TO THE AMERICAN EDITION 9 + +INTRODUCTION 15 + +LIZERUNT:-- + + I. LIZER'S WOOING 29 + + II. LIZER'S FIRST 38 + + III. A CHANGE OF CIRCUMSTANCES 46 + +WITHOUT VISIBLE MEANS 57 + +TO BOW BRIDGE 73 + +THAT BRUTE SIMMONS 83 + +BEHIND THE SHADE 97 + +THREE ROUNDS 109 + +IN BUSINESS 127 + +THE RED COW GROUP 141 + +ON THE STAIRS 161 + +SQUIRE NAPPER 171 + +"A POOR STICK" 197 + +A CONVERSION 207 + +"ALL THAT MESSUAGE" 221 + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +TO THE AMERICAN EDITION. + + +It was considered an intrepid thing for Walter Besant to do when, twelve +or thirteen years ago, he invaded the great East End of London and drew +upon its unknown wealth of varied material to people that most charming +novel, "All Sorts and Conditions of Men." Until then the West End knew +little of its contiguous neighbor in the East. Dickens's kaleidoscopic +views of low life in the South of London were manifestly caricatures of +the slum specimens of human nature which he purposely sought and often +distorted to suit his bizarre humor. Mr. Besant may be fairly considered +as the pioneer of those who have since descended to the great +unchartered region of East London, about which, so far as our knowledge +of the existing conditions of human life in that community are +concerned, we remained until, as it were yesterday, almost as ignorant +as of the undiscovered territories in Central Africa. Contemporaneous +with Mr. Besant's "discovery" of East London began the eastward march of +the Salvation Army, which has since honeycombed this quarter of the +metropolis with its militant camps. Gradually the barriers were thrown +down, and the East has become accessible to literature and to +civilization as it never had been to the various Charity and Church +missionary organizations. + +It was as the secretary of an old Charity Trust that Mr. Arthur Morrison +first made his acquaintance with East London, and by dint of several +years' residence and attentive study acquired his knowledge of the East +End and its myriad denizens. Right in the midst of the great square +bounded by the Thames, the Lea, the City, Kingsland, and the Hackney +open spaces lie the dreary "Mean Streets" which Mr. Morrison has +described with uncommon power and vigor, and among which the operations +of his secretaryship engaged him laboriously for years. The possibility +of presenting his observations of East London in narrative form began to +grow upon him while casting around for literary pabulum to convert into +magazine articles, and in October, 1891, appeared his first sketch, +entitled "A Street," in "Macmillan's Magazine." This, in a remodelled +form, now serves as an introductory chapter to the present collection. +The article in "Macmillan's" attracted a good deal of attention, and won +for its author the good fellowship of Mr. W. E. Henley, who encouraged +him in his idea of writing a series of short stories and studies which +should describe East End life with austerity, restraint, and frankness. +A large number of the "Tales" appeared in the "National Observer" and +several followed in the "Pall Mall Budget." The dedication to Mr. Henley +of "Tales of Mean Streets" is a grateful acknowledgment by the author of +the kindly and frank counsel of his friendly critic; whose criticism, it +may be added, has been mainly directed towards the author's +craftsmanship--his conceptions of the life he was portraying the critic +was wise enough to let alone. Mr. Morrison has also been indebted on the +side of art in fiction to Mr. Walter Besant, whom he met in the East +End. + +Mr. Morrison has been fortunate in his literary experience. He is +another witness to the fact that merit makes its way from the outside, +without necessarily receiving aid or having influence brought to bear +on editors or publishers. It is curious to note that a manuscript of his +which happened to be rejected once was accepted on the day following, +and now has a place in this book. Some cycling verses contributed as a +lad to a cycling magazine began his literary career, and for some years +he continued to write on what was then a novel sport. He drifted into +broader channels and became a frequent contributor to popular papers and +magazines. During this period he was working on the Charity Commission, +and wrote only by way of relaxation. About five years ago he resigned +his office on the Trust, and, occupying chambers near the Strand, joined +the editorial staff of an old-established evening paper, where for some +months he continued to write leaderettes and miscellaneous articles and +notes until, becoming convinced that he could not do justice to such +ability for better work which he might possess amidst the grinding +routine of newspaper scribbling, he gave up his post and applied himself +to more serious writing, contributing to the "Strand," and other +magazines and reviews. About this time he began the series which is now +gathered under the common title "Tales of Mean Streets." On its recent +publication in England it was received with instant recognition as a +book of extraordinary merit, and it has met with signal success. Some +idea of the strong impression which it has made in England may be +gathered from Mr. Arthur Waugh's warm tribute to the author's +distinction in a recent letter to the "Critic." "He deals exclusively," +writes Mr. Waugh, "with life in the East End of London, and he does so +with a fearlessness and originality which are of more value than many +sermons. I do not know whether his book is published in America; but if +so, I strongly advise every reader of this letter to secure it. Those +who do so will learn from its pages more of the degradation and misery +of a certain side of London life than they could in many weeks of +philanthropic 'slumming.' Mr. Morrison's will be a name to conjure with +in another season." + +Mr. Arthur Morrison is but thirty-one, and has just stepped on to the +threshold of literary fame as a writer of decided promise and strength. +He has only broken ground as yet in the field which has brought him his +spurs, and is at present contemplating a longer story of East End life. +The number of those who have attempted to write familiarly of the seamy +side of our great cities from close observation and laborious study of +its life in a first-hand fashion is so small that it is easy to believe +that the author of "Tales of Mean Streets," possessing as he does the +prime qualities of a novelist, has a future before him in an +unprecedented form of literature. + +JAMES MACARTHUR. + +NEW YORK, March 2, 1895. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + +A STREET. + + +This street is in the East End. There is no need to say in the East End +of what. The East End is a vast city, as famous in its way as any the +hand of man has made. But who knows the East End? It is down through +Cornhill and out beyond Leadenhall Street and Aldgate Pump, one will +say: a shocking place, where he once went with a curate; an evil plexus +of slums that hide human creeping things, where filthy men and women +live on penn'orths of gin, where collars and clean shirts are decencies +unknown, where every citizen wears a black eye, and none ever combs his +hair. The East End is a place, says another, which is given over to the +Unemployed. And the Unemployed is a race whose token is a clay pipe, and +whose enemy is soap: now and again it migrates bodily to Hyde Park with +banners, and furnishes adjacent police courts with disorderly drunks. +Still another knows the East End only as the place whence begging +letters come; there are coal and blanket funds there, all perennially +insolvent, and everybody always wants a day in the country. Many and +misty are people's notions of the East End; and each is commonly but the +distorted shadow of a minor feature. Foul slums there are in the East +End, of course, as there are in the West; want and misery there are, as +wherever a host is gathered together to fight for food. But they are not +often spectacular in kind. + +Of this street there are about one hundred and fifty yards--on the same +pattern all. It is not pretty to look at. A dingy little brick house +twenty feet high, with three square holes to carry the windows, and an +oblong hole to carry the door, is not a pleasing object; and each side +of this street is formed by two or three score of such houses in a row, +with one front wall in common. And the effect is as of stables. + +Round the corner there are a baker's, a chandler's, and a beer-shop. +They are not included in the view from any of the rectangular holes; but +they are well known to every denizen, and the chandler goes to church on +Sunday and pays for his seat. At the opposite end, turnings lead to +streets less rigidly respectable: some where "Mangling done here" +stares from windows, and where doors are left carelessly open; others +where squalid women sit on doorsteps, and girls go to factories in white +aprons. Many such turnings, of as many grades of decency, are set +between this and the nearest slum. + +They are not a very noisy or obtrusive lot in this street. They do not +go to Hyde Park with banners, and they seldom fight. It is just possible +that one or two among them, at some point in a life of ups and downs, +may have been indebted to a coal and blanket fund; but whosoever these +may be, they would rather die than publish the disgrace, and it is +probable that they very nearly did so ere submitting to it. + +Some who inhabit this street are in the docks, some in the gasworks, +some in one or other of the few shipbuilding yards that yet survive on +the Thames. Two families in a house is the general rule, for there are +six rooms behind each set of holes: this, unless "young men lodgers" are +taken in, or there are grown sons paying for bed and board. As for the +grown daughters, they marry as soon as may be. Domestic service is a +social descent, and little under millinery and dressmaking is compatible +with self-respect. The general servant may be caught young among the +turnings at the end where mangling is done; and the factory girls live +still further off, in places skirting slums. + +Every morning at half-past five there is a curious demonstration. The +street resounds with thunderous knockings, repeated upon door after +door, and acknowledged ever by a muffled shout from within. These +signals are the work of the night-watchman or the early policeman, or +both, and they summon the sleepers to go forth to the docks, the +gasworks, and the ship-yards. To be awakened in this wise costs +fourpence a week, and for this fourpence a fierce rivalry rages between +night-watchmen and policemen. The night-watchman--a sort of by-blow of +the ancient "Charley," and himself a fast vanishing quantity--is the +real professional performer; but he goes to the wall, because a large +connection must be worked if the pursuit is to pay at fourpence a +knocker. Now, it is not easy to bang at two knockers three-quarters of a +mile apart, and a hundred others lying between, all punctually at +half-past five. Wherefore the policeman, to whom the fourpence is but a +perquisite, and who is content with a smaller round, is rapidly +supplanting the night-watchman, whose cry of "Past nine o'clock," as he +collects orders in the evening, is now seldom heard. + +The knocking and the shouting pass, and there comes the noise of +opening and shutting of doors, and a clattering away to the docks, the +gasworks and the ship-yards. Later more door-shutting is heard, and then +the trotting of sorrow-laden little feet along the grim street to the +grim Board School three grim streets off. Then silence, save for a +subdued sound of scrubbing here and there, and the puny squall of croupy +infants. After this, a new trotting of little feet to docks, gasworks, +and ship-yards with father's dinner in a basin and a red handkerchief, +and so to the Board School again. More muffled scrubbing and more +squalling, and perhaps a feeble attempt or two at decorating the +blankness of a square hole here and there by pouring water into a grimy +flower-pot full of dirt. Then comes the trot of little feet toward the +oblong holes, heralding the slower tread of sooty artisans; a smell of +bloater up and down; nightfall; the fighting of boys in the street, +perhaps of men at the corner near the beer-shop; sleep. And this is the +record of a day in this street; and every day is hopelessly the same. + +Every day, that is, but Sunday. On Sunday morning a smell of cooking +floats round the corner from the half-shut baker's, and the little feet +trot down the street under steaming burdens of beef, potatoes, and +batter pudding--the lucky little feet these, with Sunday boots on them, +when father is in good work and has brought home all his money; not the +poor little feet in worn shoes, carrying little bodies in the threadbare +clothes of all the week, when father is out of work, or ill, or drunk, +and the Sunday cooking may very easily be done at home,--if any there be +to do. + +On Sunday morning one or two heads of families appear in wonderful black +suits, with unnumbered creases and wrinklings at the seams. At their +sides and about their heels trot the unresting little feet, and from +under painful little velvet caps and straw hats stare solemn little +faces towelled to a polish. Thus disposed and arrayed, they fare gravely +through the grim little streets to a grim Little Bethel where are +gathered together others in like garb and attendance; and for two hours +they endure the frantic menace of hell-fire. + +Most of the men, however, lie in shirt and trousers on their beds and +read the Sunday paper; while some are driven forth--for they hinder the +housework--to loaf, and await the opening of the beer-shop round the +corner. Thus goes Sunday in this street, and every Sunday is the same as +every other Sunday, so that one monotony is broken with another. For the +women, however, Sunday is much as other days, except that there is +rather more work for them. The break in their round of the week is +washing day. + +No event in the outer world makes any impression in this street. Nations +may rise, or may totter in ruin; but here the colorless day will work +through its twenty-four hours just as it did yesterday, and just as it +will to-morrow. Without there may be party strife, wars and rumors of +wars, public rejoicings; but the trotting of the little feet will be +neither quickened nor stayed. Those quaint little women, the +girl-children of this street, who use a motherly management toward all +girl-things younger than themselves, and toward all boys as old or +older, with "Bless the child!" or "Drat the children!"--those quaint +little women will still go marketing with big baskets, and will regard +the price of bacon as chief among human considerations. Nothing disturbs +this street--nothing but a strike. + +Nobody laughs here--life is too serious a thing; nobody sings. There was +once a woman who sang--a young wife from the country. But she bore +children, and her voice cracked. Then her man died, and she sang no +more. They took away her home, and with her children about her skirts +she left this street forever. The other women did not think much of her. +She was "helpless." + +One of the square holes in this street--one of the single, ground-floor +holes--is found, on individual examination, to differ from the others. +There has been an attempt to make it into a shop-window. Half a dozen +candles, a few sickly sugar-sticks, certain shrivelled bloaters, some +bootlaces, and a bundle or two of firewood compose a stock which at +night is sometimes lighted by a little paraffine lamp in a tin sconce, +and sometimes by a candle. A widow lives here--a gaunt, bony widow, with +sunken, red eyes. She has other sources of income than the candles and +the bootlaces: she washes and chars all day, and she sews cheap shirts +at night. Two "young men lodgers," moreover, sleep upstairs, and the +children sleep in the back room; she herself is supposed not to sleep at +all. The policeman does not knock here in the morning--the widow wakes +the lodgers herself; and nobody in the street behind ever looks out of +window before going to bed, no matter how late, without seeing a light +in the widow's room where she plies her needle. She is a quiet woman, +who speaks little with her neighbors, having other things to do: a woman +of pronounced character, to whom it would be unadvisable--even +dangerous--to offer coals or blankets. Hers was the strongest contempt +for the helpless woman who sang: a contempt whose added bitterness +might be traced to its source. For when the singing woman was marketing, +from which door of the pawnshop had she twice met the widow coming +forth? + +This is not a dirty street, taken as a whole. The widow's house is one +of the cleanest, and the widow's children match the house. The one house +cleaner than the widow's is ruled by a despotic Scotchwoman, who drives +every hawker off her whitened step, and rubs her door handle if a hand +have rested on it. The Scotchwoman has made several attempts to +accommodate "young men lodgers," but they have ended in shrill rows. + +There is no house without children in this street, and the number of +them grows ever and ever greater. Nine-tenths of the doctor's visits are +on this account alone, and his appearances are the chief matter of such +conversation as the women make across the fences. One after another the +little strangers come, to live through lives as flat and colorless as +the day's life in this street. Existence dawns, and the +doctor-watchman's door knock resounds along the row of rectangular +holes. Then a muffled cry announces that a small new being has come to +trudge and sweat its way in the appointed groove. Later, the trotting of +little feet and the school; the midday play hour, when love peeps even +into this street; after that more trotting of little feet--strange +little feet, new little feet--and the scrubbing, and the squalling, and +the barren flower-pot; the end of the sooty day's work; the last +home-coming; nightfall; sleep. + +When love's light falls into some corner of the street, it falls at an +early hour of this mean life, and is itself but a dusty ray. It falls +early, because it is the sole bright thing which the street sees, and is +watched for and counted on. Lads and lasses, awkwardly arm in arm, go +pacing up and down this street, before the natural interest in marbles +and doll's houses would have left them in a brighter place. They are +"keeping company"; the manner of which proceeding is indigenous--is a +custom native to the place. The young people first "walk out" in pairs. +There is no exchange of promises, no troth-plight, no engagement, no +love-talk. They patrol the street side by side, usually in silence, +sometimes with fatuous chatter. There are no dances, no tennis, no +water-parties, no picnics to bring them together: so they must walk out, +or be unacquainted. If two of them grow dissatisfied with each other's +company, nothing is easier than to separate and walk out with somebody +else. When by these means each has found a fit mate (or thinks so), a +ring is bought, and the odd association becomes a regular engagement; +but this is not until the walking out has endured for many months. The +two stages of courtship are spoken of indiscriminately as "keeping +company," but a very careful distinction is drawn between them by the +parties concerned. Nevertheless, in the walking out period it would be +almost as great a breach of faith for either to walk out with more than +one, as it would be if the full engagement had been made. And +love-making in this street is a dreary thing, when one thinks of +love-making in other places. It begins--and it ends--too soon. + +Nobody from this street goes to the theatre. That would mean a long +journey, and it would cost money which might buy bread and beer and +boots. For those, too, who wear black Sunday suits it would be sinful. +Nobody reads poetry or romance. The very words are foreign. A Sunday +paper in some few houses provides such reading as this street is +disposed to achieve. Now and again a penny novel has been found among +the private treasures of a growing daughter, and has been wrathfully +confiscated. For the air of this street is unfavorable to the ideal. + +Yet there are aspirations. There has lately come into the street a young +man lodger who belongs to a Mutual Improvement Society. Membership in +this society is regarded as a sort of learned degree, and at its +meetings debates are held and papers smugly read by lamentably +self-satisfied young men lodgers, whose only preparation for debating +and writing is a fathomless ignorance. For ignorance is the inevitable +portion of dwellers here: seeing nothing, reading nothing, and +considering nothing. + +Where in the East End lies this street? Everywhere. The hundred and +fifty yards is only a link in a long and a mightily tangled chain--is +only a turn in a tortuous maze. This street of the square holes is +hundreds of miles long. That it is planned in short lengths is true, but +there is no other way in the world that can more properly be called a +single street, because of its dismal lack of accent, its sordid +uniformity, its utter remoteness from delight. + + + + +LIZERUNT. + + + + +I. + +LIZER'S WOOING. + + +Somewhere in the register was written the name Elizabeth Hunt; but +seventeen years after the entry the spoken name was Lizerunt. Lizerunt +worked at a pickle factory, and appeared abroad in an elaborate and +shabby costume, usually supplemented by a white apron. Withal she was +something of a beauty. That is to say, her cheeks were very red, her +teeth were very large and white, her nose was small and snub, and her +fringe was long and shiny; while her face, new-washed, was susceptible +of a high polish. Many such girls are married at sixteen, but Lizerunt +was belated, and had never a bloke at all. + +Billy Chope was a year older than Lizerunt. He wore a billycock with a +thin brim and a permanent dent in the crown; he had a bobtail coat, with +the collar turned up at one side and down at the other, as an expression +of independence; between his meals he carried his hands in his breeches +pockets; and he lived with his mother, who mangled. His conversation +with Lizerunt consisted long of perfunctory nods; but great things +happened this especial Thursday evening, as Lizerunt, making for home, +followed the fading red beyond the furthermost end of Commercial Road. +For Billy Chope, slouching in the opposite direction, lurched across the +pavement as they met, and, taking the nearer hand from his pocket, +caught and twisted her arm, bumping her against the wall. + +"Garn," said Lizerunt, greatly pleased: "le' go!" For she knew that this +was love. + +"Where yer auf to, Lizer?" + +"'Ome, o' course, cheeky. Le' go;" and she snatched--in vain--at Billy's +hat. + +Billy let go, and capered in front of her. She feigned to dodge by him, +careful not to be too quick, because affairs were developing. + +"I say, Lizer," said Billy, stopping his dance and becoming +business-like, "goin' anywhere Monday?" + +"Not along o' you, cheeky; you go 'long o' Beller Dawson, like wot you +did Easter." + +"Blow Beller Dawson; _she_ ain't no good. I'm goin' on the Flats. Come?" + +Lizerunt, delighted but derisive, ended with a promise to "see." The +bloke had come at last, and she walked home with the feeling of having +taken her degree. She had half assured herself of it two days before, +when Sam Cardew threw an orange peel at her, but went away after a +little prancing on the pavement. Sam was a smarter fellow than Billy, +and earned his own living; probably his attentions were serious; but one +must prefer the bird in hand. As for Billy Chope, he went his way, +resolved himself to take home what mangling he should find his mother +had finished, and stick to the money; also, to get all he could from her +by blandishing and bullying, that the jaunt to Wanstead Flats might be +adequately done. + + +There is no other fair like Whit Monday's on Wanstead Flats. Here is a +square mile and more of open land where you may howl at large; here is +no danger of losing yourself, as in Epping Forest; the public houses are +always with you; shows, shies, swings, merry-go-rounds, fried fish +stalls, donkeys, are packed closer than on Hampstead Heath; the ladies' +tormentors are larger, and their contents smell worse, than at any other +fair. Also, you may be drunk and disorderly without being locked +up,--for the stations won't hold everybody,--and when all else has +palled, you may set fire to the turf. Hereinto Billy and Lizerunt +projected themselves from the doors of the Holly Tree on Whit Monday +morning. But through hours on hours of fried fish and half-pints both +were conscious of a deficiency. For the hat of Lizerunt was brown and +old; plush it was not, and its feather was a mere foot long, and of a +very rusty black. Now, it is not decent for a factory girl from +Limehouse to go bank-holidaying under any but a hat of plush, very high +in the crown, of a wild blue or a wilder green, and carrying withal an +ostrich feather, pink or scarlet or what not; a feather that springs +from the fore part, climbs the crown, and drops as far down the +shoulders as may be. Lizerunt knew this, and, had she had no bloke, +would have stayed at home. But a chance is a chance. As it was, only +another such hapless girl could measure her bitter envy of the feathers +about her, or would so joyfully have given an ear for the proper +splendor. Billy, too, had a vague impression, muddled by but not drowned +in half-pints, that some degree of plush was condign to the occasion and +to his own expenditure. Still, there was no quarrel; and the pair walked +and ran with arms about each other's necks; and Lizerunt thumped her +bloke on the back at proper intervals; so that the affair went regularly +on the whole: although, in view of Lizerunt's shortcomings, Billy did +not insist on the customary exchange of hats. Everything, I say, went +well and well enough until Billy bought a ladies' tormentor and began to +squirt it at Lizerunt. For then Lizerunt went scampering madly, with +piercing shrieks, until her bloke was left some little way behind, and +Sam Cardew, turning up at that moment and seeing her running alone in +the crowd, threw his arms about her waist and swung her round him again +and again, as he floundered gallantly this way and that, among the shies +and the hokey-pokey barrows. + +"'Ulloo, Lizer! Where _are_ y' a-comin' to? If I 'adn't laid 'old o' +ye--!" But here Billy Chope arrived to demand what the 'ell Sam Cardew +was doing with his gal. Now Sam was ever readier for a fight than Billy +was; but the sum of Billy's half-pints was large: wherefore the fight +began. On the skirt of an hilarious ring Lizerunt, after some small +outcry, triumphed aloud. Four days before, she had no bloke; and here +she stood with two, and those two fighting for her! Here in the public +gaze, on the Flats! For almost five minutes she was Helen of Troy. + +And in much less time Billy tasted repentance. The haze of half-pints +was dispelled, and some teeth went with it. Presently, whimpering and +with a bloody muzzle, he rose and made a running kick at the other. +Then, being thwarted in a bolt, he flung himself down; and it was like +to go hard with him at the hands of the crowd. Punch you may on Wanstead +Flats, but execration and worse is your portion if you kick anybody +except your wife. But, as the ring closed, the helmets of two policemen +were seen to be working in over the surrounding heads, and Sam Cardew, +quickly assuming his coat, turned away with such an air of blamelessness +as is practicable with a damaged eye; while Billy went off unheeded in +an opposite direction. + +Lizerunt and her new bloke went the routine of half-pints and +merry-go-rounds, and were soon on right thumping terms; and Lizerunt was +as well satisfied with the issue as she was proud of the adventure. +Billy was all very well; but Sam was better. She resolved to draw him +for a feathered hat before next bank holiday. So the sun went down on +her and her bloke hanging on each other's necks and straggling toward +the Romford Road with shouts and choruses. The rest was tram-car, Bow +Music Hall, half-pints, and darkness. + + +Billy took home his wounds, and his mother, having moved his wrath by +asking their origin, sought refuge with a neighbor. He accomplished his +revenge in two instalments. Two nights later Lizerunt was going with a +jug of beer; when somebody sprang from a dark corner, landed her under +the ear, knocked her sprawling, and made off to the sound of her +lamentations. She did not see who it was, but she knew; and next day Sam +Cardew was swearing he'd break Billy's back. He did not, however, for +that same evening a gang of seven or eight fell on him with sticks and +belts. (They were Causeway chaps, while Sam was a Brady's Laner, which +would have been reason enough by itself, even if Billy Chope had not +been one of them.) Sam did his best for a burst through and a run, but +they pulled and battered him down; and they kicked him about the head, +and they kicked him about the belly; and they took to their heels when +he was speechless and still. + +He lay at home for near four weeks, and when he stood up again it was in +many bandages. Lizerunt came often to his bedside, and twice she brought +an orange. On these occasions there was much talk of vengeance. But the +weeks went on. It was a month since Sam had left his bed; and Lizerunt +was getting a little tired of bandages. Also, she had begun to doubt and +to consider bank holiday--scarce a fortnight off. For Sam was +stone-broke, and a plush hat was further away than ever. And all +through the later of these weeks Billy Chope was harder than ever on his +mother, and she, well knowing that if he helped her by taking home he +would pocket the money at the other end, had taken to finishing and +delivering in his absence, and, threats failing to get at the money, +Billy Chope was impelled to punch her head and gripe her by the throat. + + +There was a milliner's window, with a show of nothing but fashionable +plush-and-feather hats, and Lizerunt was lingering hereabouts one +evening, when some one took her by the waist, and some one said, "Which +d'yer like, Lizer?--The yuller un?" + +Lizerunt turned and saw that it was Billy. She pulled herself away, and +backed off, sullen and distrustful. "Garn," she said. + +"Straight," said Billy, "I'll sport yer one.--No kid, I will." + +"Garn," said Lizerunt once more. "Wot yer gittin' at now?" + +But presently, being convinced that bashing wasn't in it, she approached +less guardedly; and she went away with a paper bag and the reddest of +all the plushes and the bluest of all the feathers; a hat that +challenged all the Flats the next bank holiday, a hat for which no girl +need have hesitated to sell her soul. As for Billy, why, he was as good +as another; and you can't have everything; and Sam Cardew, with his +bandages and his grunts and groans, was no great catch after all. + +This was the wooing of Lizerunt: for in a few months she and Billy +married under the blessing of a benignant rector, who periodically set +aside a day for free weddings, and, on principle, encouraged early +matrimony. And they lived with Billy's mother. + + + + +II. + +LIZER'S FIRST. + + +When Billy Chope married Lizerunt there was a small rejoicing. There was +no wedding-party; because it was considered that what there might be to +drink would be better in the family. Lizerunt's father was not, and her +mother felt no interest in the affair; not having seen her daughter for +a year, and happening, at the time, to have a month's engagement in +respect of a drunk and disorderly. So that there were but three of them; +and Billy Chope got exceedingly tipsy early in the day; and in the +evening his bride bawled a continual chorus, while his mother, +influenced by that unwonted quartern of gin the occasion sanctioned, +wept dismally over her boy, who was much too far gone to resent it. + +His was the chief reason for rejoicing. For Lizerunt had always been +able to extract ten shillings a week from the pickle factory, and it was +to be presumed that as Lizer Chope her earning capacity would not +diminish; and the wages would make a very respectable addition to the +precarious revenue, depending on the mangle, that Billy extorted from +his mother. As for Lizer, she was married. That was the considerable +thing; for she was but a few months short of eighteen, and that, as you +know, is a little late. + +Of course there were quarrels very soon; for the new Mrs. Chope, less +submissive at first than her mother-in-law, took a little breaking in, +and a liberal renewal of the manual treatment once applied in her +courting days. But the quarrels between the women were comforting to +Billy: a diversion and a source of better service. + +As soon as might be, Lizer took the way of womankind. This circumstance +brought an unexpected half-crown from the evangelical rector who had +married the couple gratis; for recognizing Billy in the street by +accident, and being told of Mrs. Chope's prospects, as well as that +Billy was out of work (a fact undeniable), he reflected that his +principles did on occasion lead to discomfort of a material sort. And +Billy, to whose comprehension the half-crown opened a new field of +receipt, would doubtless have long remained a client of the rector, had +not that zealot hastened to discover a vacancy for a warehouse porter, +the offer of presentation whereunto alienated Billy Chope forever. But +there were meetings and demonstrations of the Unemployed; and it was +said that shillings had been given away; and, as being at a meeting in a +street was at least as amusing as being in a street where there was no +meeting, Billy often went, on the off chance. But his lot was chiefly +disappointment: wherefore he became more especially careful to furnish +himself ere he left home. + +For certain weeks cash came less freely than ever from the two women. +Lizer spoke of providing for the necessities of the expected child: a +manifestly absurd procedure, as Billy pointed out, since, if they were +unable to clothe or feed it, the duty would fall on its grandmother. +That was law, and nobody could get over it. But even with this argument, +a shilling cost him many more demands and threats than it had used, and +a deal more general trouble. + +At last Lizer ceased from going to the pickle factory, and could not +even help Billy's mother at the mangle for long. This lasted for near a +week, when Billy, rising at ten with a bad mouth, resolved to stand no +nonsense, and demanded two shillings. + +"Two bob? Wot for?" Lizer asked. + +"'Cos I want it. None o' yer lip." + +"Ain't got it," said Lizer sulkily. + +"That's a bleed'n' lie." + +"Lie yerself." + +"I'll break y' in 'arves, ye blasted 'eifer!" He ran at her throat and +forced her back over a chair. "I'll pull yer face auf! If y' don't give +me the money, gawblimy, I'll do for ye!" + +Lizer strained and squalled. "Le' go! You'll kill me an' the kid too!" +she grunted hoarsely. Billy's mother ran in and threw her arms about +him, dragging him away. "Don't, Billy," she said, in terror. "Don't, +Billy--not now! You'll get in trouble. Come away! She might go auf, an' +you'd get in trouble!" + +Billy Chope flung his wife over and turned to his mother. "Take yer +'ands auf me," he said: "go on, or I'll gi' ye somethin' for yerself." +And he punched her in the breast by way of illustration. + +"You shall 'ave what I've got, Billy, if it's money," the mother said. +"But don't go an' git yerself in trouble, don't. Will a shillin' do?" + +"No, it won't. Think I'm a bloomin' kid? I mean 'avin' two bob this +mornin'." + +"I was a-keepin' it for the rent, Billy, but--" + +"Yus; think o' the bleed'n' lan'lord 'fore me, doncher?" And he pocketed +the two shillings. "I ain't settled with you yut, my gal," he added to +Lizer; "mikin' about at 'ome an' 'idin' money. You wait a bit." + +Lizer had climbed into an erect position, and, gravid and slow, had got +as far as the passage. Mistaking this for a safe distance, she replied +with defiant railings. Billy made for her with a kick that laid her on +the lower stairs, and, swinging his legs round his mother as she +obstructed him, entreating him not to get in trouble, he attempted to +kick again in a more telling spot. But a movement among the family +upstairs and a tap at the door hinted of interference, and he took +himself off. + +Lizer lay doubled upon the stairs, howling: but her only articulate cry +was, "Gawd 'elp me, it's comin'!" + +Billy went to the meeting of the Unemployed, and cheered a proposal to +storm the Tower of London. But he did not join the procession following +a man with a handkerchief on a stick, who promised destruction to every +policeman in his path: for he knew the fate of such processions. With a +few others, he hung about the nearest tavern for a while, on the chance +of the advent of a flush sailor from St. Katharine's, disposed to treat +out-o'-workers. Then he went alone to a quieter beer-house and took a +pint or two at his own expense. A glance down the music-hall bills +hanging in the bar having given him a notion for the evening, he +bethought himself of dinner, and made for home. + +The front door was open, and in the first room, where the mangle stood, +there were no signs of dinner. And this was at three o'clock! Billy +pushed into the room behind, demanding why. + +"Billy," Lizer said faintly from her bed, "look at the baby!" + +Something was moving feebly under a flannel petticoat. Billy pulled the +petticoat aside, and said, "That? Well, it _is_ a measly snipe." It was +a blind, hairless homunculus, short of a foot long, with a skinny face +set in a great skull. There was a black bruise on one side from hip to +armpit. Billy dropped the petticoat and said, "Where's my dinner?" + +"I dunno," Lizer responded hazily. "Wot's the time?" + +"Time? Don't try to kid me. You git up; go on. I want my dinner." + +"Mother's gittin' it, I think," said Lizer. "Doctor had to slap 'im like +anythink 'fore 'e'd cry. 'E don't cry now much. 'E--" + +"Go on; out ye git. I do' want no more damn jaw. Git my dinner." + +"I'm a-gittin' of it, Billy," his mother said, at the door. She had +begun when he first entered. "It won't be a minute." + +"You come 'ere; y' ain't alwis s' ready to do 'er work, are ye? She +ain't no call to stop there no longer, an' I owe 'er one for this +mornin'. Will ye git out, or shall I kick ye?" + +"She can't, Billy," his mother said. And Lizer snivelled and said, +"You're a damn brute. Y' ought to be bleedin' well booted." + +But Billy had her by the shoulders and began to haul; and again his +mother besought him to remember what he might bring upon himself. At +this moment the doctor's dispenser, a fourth-year London Hospital +student of many inches, who had been washing his hands in the kitchen, +came in. For a moment he failed to comprehend the scene. Then he took +Billy Chope by the collar, hauled him pell-mell along the passage, +kicked him (hard) into the gutter, and shut the door. + +When he returned to the room, Lizer, sitting up and holding on by the +bed-frame, gasped hysterically: "Ye bleedin' makeshift, I'd 'ave yer +liver out if I could reach ye! You touch my 'usband, ye long pisenin' +'ound you! Ow!" And, infirm of aim, she flung a cracked teacup at his +head. Billy's mother said, "Y' ought to be ashamed of yourself, you low +blaggard. If 'is father was alive 'e'd knock yer 'ead auf. Call yourself +a doctor--a passel o' boys!--Git out! Go out o' my 'ouse, or I'll give +y' in charge!" + +"But--why, hang it, he'd have killed her." Then to Lizer, "Lie down." + +"Sha'n't lay down. Keep auf! if you come near me I'll corpse ye. You go +while ye're safe!" + +The dispenser appealed to Billy's mother. "For God's sake make her lie +down. She'll kill herself. I'll go. Perhaps the doctor had better come." +And he went: leaving the coast clear for Billy Chope to return and +avenge his kicking. + + + + +III. + +A CHANGE OF CIRCUMSTANCES. + + +Lizer was some months short of twenty-one when her third child was born. +The pickle factory had discarded her some time before, and since that +her trade had consisted in odd jobs of charing. Odd jobs of charing have +a shade the better of a pickle factory in the matter of respectability, +but they are precarious, and they are worse paid at that. In the East +End they are sporadic and few. Moreover, it is in the household where +paid help is a rarity that the bitterness of servitude is felt. Also, +the uncertainty and irregularity of the returns were a trouble to Billy +Chope. He was never sure of having got them all. It might be ninepence, +or a shilling, or eighteenpence. Once or twice, to his knowledge, it had +been half-a-crown, from a chance job at a doctor's or a parson's, and +once it was three shillings. That it might be half-a-crown or three +shillings again, and that some of it was being kept back, was ever the +suspicion evoked by Lizer's evening homing. Plainly, with these +fluctuating and uncertain revenues, more bashing than ever was needed to +insure the extraction of the last copper; empty-handedness called for +bashing on its own account; so that it was often Lizer's hap to be +refused a job because of a black eye. + +Lizer's self was scarcely what it had been. The red of her cheeks, once +bounded only by the eyes and the mouth, had shrunk to a spot in the +depth of each hollow; gaps had been driven in her big white teeth; even +the snub nose had run to a point, and the fringe hung dry and ragged, +while the bodily outline was as a sack's. At home, the children lay in +her arms or tumbled at her heels, puling and foul. Whenever she was near +it, there was the mangle to be turned; for lately Billy's mother had +exhibited a strange weakness, sometimes collapsing with a gasp in the +act of brisk or prolonged exertion, and often leaning on whatever stood +hard by and grasping at her side. This ailment she treated, when she had +twopence, in such terms as made her smell of gin and peppermint; and +more than once this circumstance had inflamed the breast of Billy her +son, who was morally angered by this boozing away of money that was +really his. + +Lizer's youngest, being seven or eight months old, was mostly taking +care of itself, when Billy made a welcome discovery after a hard and +pinching day. The night was full of blinding wet, and the rain beat on +the window as on a drum. Billy sat over a small fire in the front room +smoking his pipe, while his mother folded clothes for delivery. He +stamped twice on the hearth, and then, drawing off his boot, he felt +inside it. It was a nail. The poker-head made a good anvil, and, looking +about for a hammer, Billy bethought him of a brick from the mangle. He +rose, and, lifting the lid of the weight-box, groped about among the +clinkers and the other ballast till he came upon a small but rather +heavy paper parcel. "'Ere--wot's this?" he said, and pulled it out. + +His mother, whose back had been turned, hastened across the room, hand +to breast (it had got to be her habit). "What is it, Billy?" she said. +"Not that: there's nothing there. I'll get anything you want, Billy." +And she made a nervous catch at the screw of paper. But Billy fended her +off, and tore the package open. It was money, arranged in little columns +of farthings, halfpence, and threepenny pieces, with a few sixpences, a +shilling or two, and a single half-sovereign. "O," said Billy, "this is +the game, is it?--'idin' money in the mangle! Got any more?" And he +hastily turned the brickbats. + +"No, Billy, don't take that--don't!" implored his mother. "There'll be +some money for them things when they go 'ome--'ave that. I'm savin' it, +Billy, for something partic'ler: s'elp me Gawd, I am, Billy." + +"Yus," replied Billy, raking diligently among the clinkers, "savin' it +for a good ol' booze. An' now you won't 'ave one. Bleedin' nice thing, +'idin' money away from yer own son!" + +"It ain't for that, Billy--s'elp me, it ain't; it's case anythink +'appens to me. On'y to put me away decent, Billy, that's all. We never +know, an' you'll be glad of it t'elp bury me if I should go any time--" + +"I'll be glad of it now," answered Billy, who had it in his pocket; "an' +I've got it. You ain't a dyin' sort, _you_ ain't; an' if you was, the +parish 'ud soon tuck _you_ up. P'raps you'll be straighter about money +after this." + +"Let me 'ave _some_, then,--you can't want it all. Give me some, an' +then 'ave the money for the things. There's ten dozen and seven, and you +can take 'em yerself if ye like." + +"Wot--in this 'ere rain? Not me! I bet I'd 'ave the money if I wanted it +without that. 'Ere--change these 'ere fardens at the draper's wen you go +out: there's two bob's worth an' a penn'orth; I don't want to bust my +pockets wi' them." + +While they spoke Lizer had come in from the back room. But she said +nothing: she rather busied herself with a child she had in her arms. +When Billy's mother, despondent and tearful, had tramped out into the +rain with a pile of clothes in an oilcloth wrapper, she said sulkily, +without looking up, "You might 'a' let 'er kep' that; you git all you +want." + +At another time this remonstrance would have provoked active +hostilities; but now, with the money about him, Billy was complacently +disposed. "You shutcher 'ead," he said, "I got this, any'ow. She can +make it up out o' my rent if she likes." This last remark was a joke, +and he chuckled as he made it. For Billy's rent was a simple fiction, +devised, on the suggestion of a smart canvasser, to give him a +parliamentary vote. + +That night Billy and Lizer slept, as usual, in the bed in the back room, +where the two younger children also were. Billy's mother made a bedstead +nightly with three chairs and an old trunk in the front room by the +mangle, and the eldest child lay in a floor-bed near her. Early in the +morning Lizer awoke at a sudden outcry of the little creature. He clawed +at the handle till he opened the door, and came staggering and tumbling +into the room with screams of terror. "Wring 'is blasted neck," his +father grunted sleepily. "Wot's the kid 'owlin' for?" + +"I's 'f'aid o' g'anny--I's 'f'aid o' g'anny!" was all the child could +say; and when he had said it, he fell to screaming once more. + +Lizer rose and went to the next room; and straightway came a scream from +her also. "O--O--Billy! Billy! O my Gawd! Billy, come 'ere!" + +And Billy, fully startled, followed in Lizer's wake. He blundered in, +rubbing his eyes, and saw. + +Stark on her back in the huddled bed of old wrappers and shawls lay his +mother. The outline of her poor face--strained in an upward stare of +painful surprise--stood sharp and meagre against the black of the grate +beyond. But the muddy old skin was white, and looked cleaner than its +wont, and many of the wrinkles were gone. + +Billy Chope, half-way across the floor, recoiled from the corpse, and +glared at it pallidly from the doorway. + +"Good Gawd!" he croaked faintly, "is she dead?" + +Seized by a fit of shuddering breaths, Lizer sank on the floor, and, +with her head across the body, presently broke into a storm of +hysterical blubbering, while Billy, white and dazed, dressed hurriedly +and got out of the house. He was at home as little as might be until the +coroner's officer carried away the body two days later. When he came +for his meals, he sat doubtful and querulous in the matter of the front +room door's being shut. The dead once clear away, however, he resumed +his faculties, and clearly saw that here was a bad change for the worse. +There was the mangle, but who was to work it? If Lizer did, there would +be no more charing jobs--a clear loss of one-third of his income. And it +was not at all certain that the people who had given their mangling to +his mother would give it to Lizer. Indeed, it was pretty sure that many +would not, because mangling is a thing given by preference to widows, +and many widows of the neighborhood were perpetually competing for it. +Widows, moreover, had the first call in most odd jobs whereunto Lizer +might turn her hand: an injustice whereon Billy meditated with +bitterness. + +The inquest was formal and unremarked, the medical officer having no +difficulty in certifying a natural death from heart disease. The bright +idea of a collection among the jury, which Billy communicated, with +pitiful representations, to the coroner's officer, was brutally swept +aside by that functionary, made cunning by much experience. So the +inquest brought him nought save disappointment and a sense of injury.... + +The mangling orders fell away as suddenly and completely as he had +feared: they were duly absorbed among the local widows. Neglect the +children as Lizer might, she could no longer leave them as she had done. +Things, then, were bad with Billy, and neither threats nor thumps could +evoke a shilling now. + +It was more than Billy could bear: so that, "'Ere," he said one night, +"I've 'ad enough o' this. You go and get some money; go on." + +"Go an' git it?" replied Lizer. "O yus. That's easy, ain't it? 'Go an' +git it,' says you. 'Ow?" + +"Any'ow--I don't care. Go on." + +"Wy," replied Lizer, looking up with wide eyes, "d'ye think I can go an' +pick it up in the street?" + +"Course you can. Plenty others does, don't they?" + +"Gawd, Billy ... wot d'ye mean?" + +"Wot I say; plenty others does it. Go on--you ain't so bleed'n' innocent +as all that. Go an' see Sam Cardew. Go on--'ook it." + +Lizer, who had been kneeling at the child's floor-bed, rose to her feet, +pale-faced and bright of eye. + +"Stow kiddin', Billy," she said. "You don't mean that. I'll go round to +the fact'ry in the mornin': p'raps they'll take me on temp'ry." + +"Damn the fact'ry." + +He pushed her into the passage. "Go on--you git me some money, if ye +don't want yer bleed'n' 'ead knocked auf." + +There was a scuffle in the dark passage, with certain blows, a few +broken words, and a sob. Then the door slammed, and Lizer Chope was in +the windy street. + + + + +WITHOUT VISIBLE MEANS. + + +All East London idled, or walked in a procession, or waylaid and bashed, +or cried in an empty kitchen: for it was the autumn of the Great +Strikes. One army of men, having been prepared, was ordered to +strike--and struck. Other smaller armies of men, with no preparation, +were ordered to strike to express sympathy--and struck. Other armies +still were ordered to strike because it was the fashion--and struck. +Then many hands were discharged because the strikes in other trades left +them no work. Many others came from other parts in regiments to work, +but remained to loaf in gangs: taught by the example of earlier +regiments, which, the situation being explained (an expression devised +to include mobbings and kickings and flingings into docks), had returned +whence they came. So that East London was very noisy and largely hungry; +and the rest of the world looked on with intense interest, making +earnest suggestions, and comprehending nothing. Lots of strikers, having +no strike pay and finding little nourishment in processions, started +off to walk to Manchester, Birmingham, Liverpool, or Newcastle, where +work might be got. Along the Great North Road such men might be seen in +silent companies of a dozen or twenty, now and again singly or in +couples. At the tail of one such gang, which gathered in the Burdett +Road and found its way into the Enfield Road by way of Victoria Park, +Clapton, and Stamford Hill, walked a little group of three: a voluble +young man of thirty, a stolid workman rather older, and a pale, anxious +little fellow, with a nasty spasmic cough and a canvas bag of tools. + +The little crowd straggled over the footpath and the road, few of its +members speaking, most of them keeping to their places and themselves. +As yet there was nothing of the tramp in the aspect of these mechanics. +With their washed faces and well-mended clothes they might have been +taken for a jury coming from a local inquest. As the streets got broken +and detached, with patches of field between, they began to look about +them. One young fellow in front (with no family to think of), who looked +upon the enterprise as an amusing sort of tour, and had even brought an +accordion, began to rebel against the general depression, and attempted +a joke about going to the Alexandra Palace. But in the rear, the little +man with the canvas bag, putting his hand abstractedly into his pocket, +suddenly stared and stopped. He drew out the hand, and saw in it three +shillings. + +"S'elp me," he said, "the missis is done that--shoved it in unbeknown +when I come away! An' she's on'y got a bob for 'erself an' the kids." He +broke into a sweat of uneasiness. "I'll 'ave to send it back at the next +post-office, that's all." + +"Send it back? not you!" Thus with deep scorn the voluble young man at +his side. "_She'll_ be all right, you lay your life. A woman allus knows +'ow to look after 'erself. You'll bleed'n' soon want it, an' bad. You do +as I tell you, Joey: stick to it. That's right, Dave, ain't it?" + +"Matter o' fancy," replied the stolid man. "My missis cleared my pockets +out 'fore I got away. Shouldn't wonder at bein' sent after for leavin' +'er chargeable if I don't soon send some more. Women's different." + +The march continued, and grew dustier. The cheerful pilgrim in front +produced his accordion. At Palmer's Green four went straight ahead to +try for work at the Enfield Arms Factory. The others, knowing the thing +hopeless, turned off to the left for Potter's Bar. + +After a long silence, "Which'll be nearest, Dave," asked little Joey +Clayton, "Newcastle or Middlesborough?" + +"Middlesborough," said Dave; "I done it afore." + +"Trampin' ain't so rough on a man, is it, after all?" asked Joey +wistfully. "_You_ done all right, didn't you?" + +"Got through. All depends, though it's rough enough. Matter o' luck. +_I_'ad the bad weather." + +"If I don't get a good easy job where we're goin'," remarked the voluble +young man, "I'll 'ave a strike there too." + +"'Ave a strike there?" exclaimed Joey. "'Ow? Who'd call 'em out?" + +"Wy, _I_ would. I think I'm equal to doin' it, ain't I? An' when workin' +men stand idle an' 'ungry in the midst o' the wealth an' the lukshry an' +the igstravagance they've produced with the sweat of their brow, why, +then, feller-workmen, it's time to act. It's time to bring the +nigger-drivin' bloated capitalists to their knees." + +"'Ear, 'ear," applauded Joey Clayton; tamely, perhaps, for the words +were not new. "Good on yer, Newman!" Newman had a habit of practising +this sort of thing in snatches whenever he saw the chance. He had learnt +the trick in a debating society; and Joey Clayton was always an +applausive audience. There was a pause, the accordion started another +tune, and Newman tried a different passage of his harangue. + +"In the shop they call me Skulky Newman. Why? 'Cos I skulk, o' course" +("'Ear, 'ear," dreamily--from Dave this time). "I ain't ashamed of it, +my friends. I'm a miker out an' out, an' I 'ope I shall always remain a +miker. The less a worker does the more 'as to be imployed, don't they? +An' the more the toilers wrings out o' the capitalists, don't they? Very +well then, I mike, an' I do it as a sacred dooty." + +"You'll 'ave all the mikin' you want for a week or two," said Dave Burge +placidly. "Stow it." + +At Potter's Bar the party halted and sat under a hedge to eat hunks of +bread and cheese (or hunks of bread and nothing else) and to drink cold +tea out of cans. Skulky Newman, who had brought nothing, stood in with +his two friends. As they started anew and turned into the Great North +Road he said, stretching himself and looking slyly at Joey Clayton, "If +_I'd_ got a bob or two I'd stand you two blokes a pint apiece." + +Joey looked troubled. "Well, as you ain't, I suppose I ought to," he +said uneasily, turning toward the little inn hard by. "Dave," he cried +to Burge, who was walking on, "won't you 'ave a drink?" And, "Well, if +you _are_ goin' to do the toff, I ain't proud," was the slow reply. + +Afterward Joey was inclined to stop at the post-office to send away at +least two shillings. But Newman wouldn't. He enlarged on the +improvidence of putting out of reach that which might be required on an +emergency, he repeated his axiom as to a woman's knack of keeping alive +in spite of all things: and Joey determined not to send--for a day or so +at any rate. + +The road got looser and dustier; the symptoms of the tramp came out +stronger and stronger on the gang. The accordion struck up from time to +time, but ceased toward the end of the afternoon. The player wearied, +and some of the older men, soon tired of walking, were worried by the +noise. Joey Clayton, whose cough was aggravated by the dust, was +especially tortured, after every fit, to hear the thing drawling and +whooping the tune it had drawled and whooped a dozen times before; but +he said nothing, scarce knowing what annoyed him. + +At Hatfield Station two of the foremost picked up a few coppers by +helping with a heavy trap-load of luggage. Up Digswell Hill the party +tailed out lengthily, and Newman, who had been letting off a set speech, +was fain to save his wind. The night came, clear to see and sweet to +smell. Between Welwyn and Codicote the company broke up to roost in +such barns as they might possess: all but the master of the accordion, +who had stayed at a little public-house at Welwyn, with the notion of +earning a pot of beer and a stable-corner (or better) by a tune in the +tap-room. Dave Burge lighted on a lone shed of thatched hurdles with +loose hay in it, and Newman straightway curled in the snuggest corner on +most of the hay. Dave Burge pulled some from under him, and, having +helped Joey Clayton to build a nest in the best place left, was soon +snoring. But Joey lay awake all night, and sat up and coughed and turned +restlessly, being unused to the circumstances and apprehensive of those +months in jail which (it is well known) are rancorously dealt forth +among all them that sleep in barns. + +Luck provided a breakfast next morning at Codicote: for three +bicyclists, going north, stood cold beef and bread round at The Anchor. +The man with the accordion caught up. He had made his lodging and +breakfast and eightpence: this had determined him to stay at Hitchin, +and work it for at least a day, and then to diverge into the towns and +let the rest go their way. So beyond Hitchin there was no music. + +Joey Clayton soon fell slow. Newman had his idea; and the three were +left behind, and Joey staggered after his mates with difficulty. He +lacked sleep, and he lacked stamina. Dave Burge took the canvas bag, and +there were many rests: when Newman, expressing a resolve to stick by his +fellow-man through thick and thin, hinted at drinks. Dave Burge made +twopence at Henlow level crossing by holding an unsteady horse while a +train passed. Joey saw little of the rest of the day; the road was +yellow and dazzling, his cough tore him, and things were red sometimes +and sometimes blue. He walked without knowing it, now helped, now +lurching on alone. The others of the party were far ahead and forgotten. +There was talk of a windmill ahead, where there would be rest; and the +three men camped in an old boathouse by the river just outside +Biggleswade. Joey, sleeping as he tottered, fell in a heap and lay +without moving from sunset to broad morning. + +When he woke Dave Burge was sitting at the door, but Newman was gone. +Also, there was no sign of the canvas bag. + +"No use lookin'," said Dave; "'e's done it." + +"Eh?" + +"Skulky's 'opped the twig an' sneaked your tools. Gawd knows where 'e is +by now." + +"No--" the little man gasped, sitting up in a pale sweat.... "Not +sneaked 'em ... is 'e?... S'elp me, there's a set o' callipers worth +fifteen bob in that bag ... 'e ain't gawn ...?" + +Dave Burge nodded inexorably. + +"Best feel in your pockets," he said, "p'raps 'e's bin there." + +He had. The little man broke down. "I was a-goin' to send 'ome that two +bob--s'elp me, I was.... An' what can I do without my tools? If I'd got +no job I could 'a pawned 'em--an' then I'd 'a sent 'ome the money--s'elp +me I would.... O, it's crool!" + + +The walking, with the long sleep after it, had left him sore and stiff, +and Dave had work to put him on the road again. He had forgotten +yesterday afternoon, and asked, at first, for the others. They tramped +in silence for a few miles: when Joey suddenly flung himself upon a +tussock by the wayside. + +"Why won't nobody let me live?" he snivelled. "_I'm_ a 'armless bloke +enough. I worked at Ritterson's, man and boy, very nigh twenty year. +When they come an' ordered us out, I come out with the others, peaceful +enough; I didn't want to chuck it up, Gawd knows, but I come out promp' +when they told me. And when I found another job on the Island, four big +blokes set about me an' 'arf killed me. _I_ didn't know the place was +blocked. And when two o' the blokes was took up, they said I'd get +strike-pay again if I didn't identify 'em; so I didn't. But they never +give me no strike-pay--they laughed an' chucked me out. An' now I'm +a-starvin' on the 'igh road. An' Skulky ... blimy ... _'e's_ done me +too!" + + +There were days wherein Joey learned to eat a swede pulled from behind a +wagon, and to feel thankful for an early turnip; might have learned, +too, just what tramping means in many ways to a man unskilled both in +begging and in theft, but was never equal to it. He coughed--and worse: +holding to posts and gates, and often spitting blood. He had little to +say, but trudged mechanically, taking note of nothing. + +Once, as though aroused from a reverie, he asked, "Wasn't there some +others?" + +"Others?" said Dave, for a moment taken aback. "O, yes, there was some +others. They're gone on ahead, y'know." + +Joey tramped for half a mile in silence. Then he said, "Expect they're +'avin' a rough time too." + +"Ah--very like," said Dave. + +For a space Joey was silent, save for the cough. Then he went on: "Comes +o' not bringing 'cordions with 'em. Every one ought to take a 'cordion +what goes trampin'. I knew a man once that went trampin', an' 'e took a +'cordion. _He_ done all right. It ain't so rough for them as plays on +the 'cordion." And Dave Burge rubbed his cap about his head and stared; +but answered nothing. + +It was a bad day. Crusts were begged at cottages. Every rise and every +turn, the eternal yellow road lay stretch on stretch before them, +flouting their unrest. Joey, now unimpressionable, endured more placidly +than even Dave Burge. Late in the afternoon, "No," he said, "it ain't so +rough for them as plays the 'cordion. They 'as the best of it.... S'elp +me," he added suddenly, "_we're_ all 'cordions!" He sniggered +thoughtfully, and then burst into a cough that left him panting. "We're +nothin' but a bloomin' lot o' 'cordions ourselves," he went on, having +got his breath, "an' they play any toon they like on us; an' that's 'ow +they make their livin'. S'elp me, Dave, we're all 'cordions." And he +laughed. + +"Um--yus," the other man grunted. And he looked curiously at his mate; +for he had never heard that sort of laugh before. + +But Joey fondled the conceit, and returned to it from time to time; now +aloud, now to himself. "All 'cordions: playin' any toon as is ordered, +blimy.... _Are_ we 'cordions? _I_ don't b'lieve we're as much as that +... no, s'elp me. We're on'y the footlin' little keys; shoved about to +soot the toon.... Little tin keys, blimy ... footlin' little keys.... +I've bin played on plenty, _I_ 'ave...." + +Dave Burge listened with alarm, and tried to talk of other things. But +Joey rarely heard him. "I've bin played on plenty, _I_ 'ave," he +persisted. "I was played on once by a pal: an' my spring broke." + +At nightfall there was more bad luck. They were driven from a likely +barn by a leather-gaitered man with a dog, and for some distance no +dormitory could be found. Then it was a cut haystack, with a nest near +the top and steps to reach it. + +In the night Burge was wakened by a clammy hand upon his face. There was +a thick mist. + +"It's you, Dave, ain't it?" Clayton was saying. "Good Gawd, I thought +I'd lawst you. What's all this 'ere--not the water is it?--not the dock? +I'm soppin' wet." + +Burge himself was wet to the skin. He made Joey lie down, and told him +to sleep; but a coughing fit prevented that. "It was them 'cordions woke +me," he explained when it was over. + +So the night put on the shuddering gray of the fore-dawn. And the two +tramps left their perch, and betook them, shivering and stamping, to the +road. + +That morning Joey had short fits of dizziness and faintness. "It's my +spring broke," he would say after such an attack. "Bloomin' little tin +key put out o' toon." And once he added, "I'm up to one toon, though, +now: this 'ere bloomin' Dead March." + +Just at the outskirts of a town, where he stopped to cough over a gate, +a stout old lady, walking out with a shaggy little dog, gave him a +shilling. Dave Burge picked it up as it dropped from his incapable hand, +and "Joey, 'ere's a bob," he said; "a lady give it you. You come an' git +a drop o' beer." + +They carried a twopenny loaf into the tap-room of a small tavern, and +Dave had mild ale himself, but saw that Joey was served with stout with +a penn'orth of gin in it. Soon the gin and stout reached Joey's head, +and drew it to the table. And he slept, leaving the rest of the shilling +where it lay. + +Dave arose, and stuffed the last of the twopenny loaf into his pocket. +He took a piece of chalk from the bagatelle board in the corner, and +wrote this on the table:--"_dr. sir. for god sake take him to the work +House_." + +Then he gathered up the coppers where they lay, and stepped quietly into +the street. + + + + +TO BOW BRIDGE. + + +The eleven-five tram-car from Stratford started for Bow a trifle before +its time. The conductor knew what he might escape by stealing a march on +the closing public-houses; as also what was in store for all the +conductors in his wake, till there were no more revellers left to swarm +the cars. For it was Saturday night, and many a week's wages were +a-knocking down; and the publicans this side of Bow Bridge shut their +doors at eleven under Act of Parliament, whereas beyond the Bridge, +which is the county of London, the law gives them another hour, and a +man may drink many pots therein. And for this, at eleven every Saturday, +there is a great rush westward, a vast migration over Lea, from all the +length of High Street. From the nearer parts they walk, or do their best +to walk; but from further Stratford, by the Town Hall, the Church, and +the Martyrs' Memorial, they crowd the cars. For one thing, it is a long +half-mile, and the week's work is over. Also, the car being swamped, it +is odds that a man shall save his fare, since no conductor may fight +his way a quarter through his passengers before Bow Bridge, where the +vehicle is emptied at a rush. And that means yet another half-pint. + +So the eleven-five car started sooner than it might have done. As it was +spattering with rain, I boarded it, sharing the conductor's forlorn +hope, but taking care to sit at the extreme fore-end inside. In the +broad street the market clamored and flared, its lights and shadows +flickering and fading about the long churchyard and the steeple in the +midst thereof; and toward the distant lights, the shining road sparkled +in long reaches, like a blackguard river. + +A gap fell here and there among the lights where a publican put his gas +out; and at these points the crowds thickened. A quiet mechanic came in, +and sat near a decent woman with children, a bundle, a basket, and a +cabbage. Thirty yards on the car rumbled, and suddenly its hinder end +was taken in a mass of people--howling, struggling, and blaspheming--who +stormed and wrangled in at the door and up the stairs. There were lads +and men whooping and flushed, there were girls and women screaming +choruses; and in a moment the seats were packed, knees were taken, and +there was not an inch of standing room. The conductor cried, "All +full!" and tugged at his bell-strap, whereunto many were hanging by the +hand; but he was swept from his feet, and made to push hard for his own +place. And there was no more foothold on the back platform nor the +front, nor any vacant step upon the stairway; and the roof was thronged; +and the rest of the crowd was fain to waylay the next car. + +This one moved off slowly, with shrieks and howls that were racking to +the wits. From divers quarters of the roof came a bumping thunder as of +cellar-flapping clogs. Profanity was sluiced down, as it were by +pailfuls, from above, and was swilled back as it were in pailfuls from +below. Blowses in feathered bonnets bawled hilarious obscenity at the +jiggers. A little maid with a market-basket, hustled and jostled and +elbowed at the far end, listened eagerly and laughed when she could +understand; and the quiet mechanic, whose knees had been invaded by an +unsteady young woman in a crushed hat, tried to look pleased. My own +knees were saved from capture by the near neighborhood of an enormous +female, seated partly on the seat and partly on myself, snorting and +gulping with sleep, her head upon the next man's shoulder. (To offer +your seat to a standing woman would, as beseems a foreign antic, have +been visited by the ribaldry of the whole crowd.) In the midst of the +riot the decent woman sat silent and indifferent, her children on and +about her knees. Further along, two women ate fish with their fingers +and discoursed personalities in voices which ran strident through the +uproar, as the odor of their snack asserted itself in the general fetor. +And opposite the decent woman there sat a bonnetless drab, who said +nothing, but looked at the decent woman's children as a shoeless brat +looks at the dolls in a toyshop window. + +"So I ses to 'er, I ses"--this from the snacksters--"I'm a respectable +married woman, I ses. More'n you can say, you barefaced hussey, I ses--" +Then a shower of curses, a shout, and a roar of laughter; and the +conductor, making slow and laborious progress with the fares nearest +him, turned his head. A man had jumped upon the footboard and a +passenger's toes. A scuffle and a fight, and both had rolled off into +the mire, and got left behind. "Ain't they fond o' one another?" cried a +girl. "They're a-goin' for a walk together;" and there was a guffaw. +"The silly bleeders'll be too late for the pubs," said a male voice; and +there was another, for the general understanding was touched. + +Then--an effect of sympathy, perhaps--a scuffle broke out on the roof. +But this disturbed not the insides. The conductor went on his plaguy +task: to save time, he passed over the one or two that, asked now or +not, seemed likely to pay at the journey's end. The snacking women +resumed their talk, the choristers their singing; the rumble of the +wheels was lost in a babel of vacant ribaldry; the enormous woman choked +and gasped and snuggled lower down upon her neighbor's shoulder; and the +shabby strumpet looked at the children. + +A man by the door vomited his liquor: whereat was more hilarity, and his +neighbors, with many yaups, shoved further up the middle. But one of the +little ones, standing before her mother, was pushed almost to falling; +and the harlot, seeing her chance, snatched the child upon her knee. The +child looked up, something in wonder, and smiled; and the woman leered +as honestly as she might, saying a hoarse word or two. + +Presently the conflict overhead, waxing and waning to an accompaniment +of angry shouts, afforded another brief diversion to those within, and +something persuaded the standing passengers to shove toward the door. +The child had fallen asleep in the street-walker's arms. "Jinny!" cried +the mother, reaching forth and shaking her. "Jinny! wake up now--you +mustn't go to sleep." And she pulled the little thing from her perch to +where she had been standing. + +The bonnetless creature bent forward, and, in her curious voice (like +that of one sick with shouting), "She can set on my knee, m'm, if she +likes," she said; "she's tired." + +The mother busied herself with a jerky adjustment of the child's hat and +shawl. "She mustn't go to sleep," was all she said, sharply, and without +looking up. + +The hoarse woman bent further forward, with a propitiatory grin. "'Ow +old is she?... I'd like to--give 'er a penny." + +The mother answered nothing; but drew the child close by the side of her +knee, where a younger one was sitting, and looked steadily through the +fore windows. + +The hoarse woman sat back, unquestioning and unresentful, and turned her +eyes upon them that were crowding over the conductor; for the car was +rising over Bow Bridge. Front and back they surged down from the roof, +and the insides made for the door as one man. The big woman's neighbor +rose, and let her fall over on the seat, whence, awaking with a loud +grunt and an incoherent curse, she rolled after the rest. The conductor, +clamant and bedevilled, was caught between the two pell-mells, and, +demanding fares and gripping his satchel, was carried over the +footboard in the rush. The stramash overhead came tangled and swearing +down the stairs, gaining volume and force in random punches as it came; +and the crowd on the pavement streamed vocally toward a brightness at +the bridge foot--the lights of the Bombay Grab. + +The woman with the children waited till the footboard was clear, and +then, carrying one child and leading another (her marketings attached +about her by indeterminate means), she set the two youngsters on the +pavement, leaving the third on the step of the car. The harlot, +lingering, lifted the child again--lifted her rather high--and set her +on the path with the others. Then she walked away toward the Bombay +Grab. A man in a blue serge suit was footing it down the turning between +the public-house and the bridge with drunken swiftness and an +intermittent stagger; and, tightening her shawl, she went in chase. + +The quiet mechanic stood and stretched himself, and took a corner seat +near the door; and the tram-car, quiet and vacant, bumped on westward. + + + + +THAT BRUTE SIMMONS. + + +Simmons's infamous behavior toward his wife is still matter for profound +wonderment among the neighbors. The other women had all along regarded +him as a model husband, and certainly Mrs. Simmons was a most +conscientious wife. She toiled and slaved for that man, as any woman in +the whole street would have maintained, far more than any husband had a +right to expect. And now this was what she got for it. Perhaps he had +suddenly gone mad. + +Before she married Simmons, Mrs. Simmons had been the widowed Mrs. Ford. +Ford had got a berth as donkeyman on a tramp steamer, and that steamer +had gone down with all hands off the Cape: a judgment, the widow woman +feared, for long years of contumacy which had culminated in the +wickedness of taking to the sea, and taking to it as a donkeyman--an +immeasurable fall for a capable engine-fitter. Twelve years as Mrs. Ford +had left her still childless, and childless she remained as Mrs. +Simmons. + +As for Simmons, he, it was held, was fortunate in that capable wife. He +was a moderately good carpenter and joiner, but no man of the world, and +he wanted one. Nobody could tell what might not have happened to Tommy +Simmons if there had been no Mrs. Simmons to take care of him. He was a +meek and quiet man, with a boyish face and sparse, limp whiskers. He had +no vices (even his pipe departed him after his marriage), and Mrs. +Simmons had engrafted on him divers exotic virtues. He went solemnly to +chapel every Sunday, under a tall hat, and put a penny--one returned to +him for the purpose out of his week's wages--in the plate. Then, Mrs. +Simmons overseeing, he took off his best clothes and brushed them with +solicitude and pains. On Saturday afternoons he cleaned the knives, the +forks, the boots, the kettles, and the windows, patiently and +conscientiously. On Tuesday evenings he took the clothes to the +mangling. And on Saturday nights he attended Mrs. Simmons in her +marketing, to carry the parcels. + +Mrs. Simmons's own virtues were native and numerous. She was a wonderful +manager. Every penny of Tommy's thirty-six or thirty-eight shillings a +week was bestowed to the greatest advantage, and Tommy never ventured to +guess how much of it she saved. Her cleanliness in housewifery was +distracting to behold. She met Simmons at the front door whenever he +came home, and then and there he changed his boots for slippers, +balancing himself painfully on alternate feet on the cold flags. This +was because she scrubbed the passage and doorstep turn about with the +wife of the downstairs family, and because the stair-carpet was her own. +She vigilantly supervised her husband all through the process of +"cleaning himself" after work, so as to come between her walls and the +possibility of random splashes; and if, in spite of her diligence, a +spot remained to tell the tale, she was at pains to impress the fact on +Simmons's memory, and to set forth at length all the circumstances of +his ungrateful selfishness. In the beginning she had always escorted him +to the ready-made clothes shop, and had selected and paid for his +clothes: for the reason that men are such perfect fools, and shopkeepers +do as they like with them. But she presently improved on that. She found +a man selling cheap remnants at a street corner, and straightway she +conceived the idea of making Simmons's clothes herself. Decision was one +of her virtues, and a suit of uproarious check tweeds was begun that +afternoon from the pattern furnished by an old one. More: it was +finished by Sunday; when Simmons, overcome by astonishment at the feat, +was indued in it, and pushed off to chapel ere he could recover his +senses. The things were not altogether comfortable, he found: the +trousers clung tight against his shins, but hung loose behind his heels; +and when he sat, it was on a wilderness of hard folds and seams. Also +his waistcoat collar tickled his nape, but his coat collar went +straining across from shoulder to shoulder; while the main garment +bagged generously below his waist. Use made a habit of his discomfort, +but it never reconciled him to the chaff of his shopmates; for as Mrs. +Simmons elaborated successive suits, each one modelled on the last, the +primal accidents of her design developed into principles, and grew even +bolder and more hideously pronounced. It was vain for Simmons to +hint--as hint he did--that he shouldn't like her to overwork herself, +tailoring being bad for the eyes, and there was a new tailor's in the +Mile End Road, very cheap, where.... "Ho yus," she retorted, "you're +very consid'rit I dessay sittin' there actin' a livin' lie before your +own wife Thomas Simmons as though I couldn't see through you like a +book. A lot you care about overworkin' me as long as _your_ turn's +served throwin' away money like dirt in the street on a lot o' swindlin' +tailors an' me workin' an' slavin' 'ere to save a 'apenny an' this is +my return for it any one 'ud think you could pick up money in the +'orseroad an' I b'lieve I'd be thought better of if I laid in bed all +day like some would that I do." So that Thomas Simmons avoided the +subject, nor even murmured when she resolved to cut his hair. + +So his placid fortune endured for years. Then there came a golden summer +evening when Mrs. Simmons betook herself with a basket to do some small +shopping, and Simmons was left at home. He washed and put away the +tea-things, and then he fell to meditating on a new pair of trousers, +finished that day and hanging behind the parlor door. There they hung, +in all their decent innocence of shape in the seat, and they were +shorter of leg, longer of waist, and wilder of pattern than he had ever +worn before. And as he looked on them the small devil of Original Sin +awoke and clamored in his breast. He was ashamed of it, of course, for +well he knew the gratitude he owed his wife for those same trousers, +among other blessings. Still, there the small devil was, and the small +devil was fertile in base suggestions, and could not be kept from +hinting at the new crop of workshop gibes that would spring at Tommy's +first public appearance in such things. + +"Pitch 'em in the dustbin!" said the small devil at last; "it's all +they're fit for." + +Simmons turned away in sheer horror of his wicked self, and for a +moment thought of washing the tea-things over again by way of +discipline. Then he made for the back room, but saw from the landing +that the front door was standing open, probably by the fault of the +child downstairs. Now a front door standing open was a thing that Mrs. +Simmons would _not_ abide: it looked low. So Simmons went down, that she +might not be wroth with him for the thing when she came back; and, as he +shut the door, he looked forth into the street. + +A man was loitering on the pavement, and prying curiously about the +door. His face was tanned, his hands were deep in the pockets of his +unbraced blue trousers, and well back on his head he wore the +high-crowned peaked cap topped with a knob of wool, which is affected by +Jack ashore about the docks. He lurched a step nearer to the door, and +"Mrs. Ford ain't in, is she?" he said. + +Simmons stared at him for a matter of five seconds, and then said, "Eh?" + +"Mrs. Ford as was, then--Simmons now, ain't it?" + +He said this with a furtive leer that Simmons neither liked nor +understood. + +"No," said Simmons, "she ain't in now." + +"You ain't her 'usband, are ye?" + +"Yus." + +The man took his pipe from his mouth, and grinned silently and long. +"Blimy," he said at length, "you look the sort o' bloke she'd +like,"--and with that he grinned again. Then, seeing that Simmons made +ready to shut the door, he put a foot on the sill and a hand against the +panel. "Don't be in a 'urry, matey," he said, "I come 'ere t'ave a +little talk with you, man to man, d'ye see?" And he frowned fiercely. + +Tommy Simmons felt uncomfortable, but the door would not shut, so he +parleyed. "Wotjer want?" he asked. "I dunno you." + +"Then, if you'll excuse the liberty, I'll interdooce meself, in a manner +of speaking." He touched his cap with a bob of mock humility. "I'm Bob +Ford," he said, "come back out o' kingdom-come, so to say. Me as went +down with the _Mooltan_--safe dead five year gone. I come to see my +wife." + +During this speech Thomas Simmons's jaw was dropping lower and lower. At +the end of it he poked his fingers up through his hair, looked down at +the mat, then up at the fanlight, then out into the street, then hard at +his visitor. But he found nothing to say. + +"Come to see my wife," the man repeated. "So now we can talk it over--as +man to man." + +Simmons slowly shut his mouth, and led the way upstairs mechanically, +his fingers still in his hair. A sense of the state of affairs sank +gradually into his brain, and the small devil woke again. Suppose this +man _was_ Ford? Suppose he _did_ claim his wife? Would it be a +knock-down blow? Would it hit him out?--or not? He thought of the +trousers, the tea-things, the mangling, the knives, the kettles, and the +windows; and he thought of them in the way of a backslider. + +On the landing Ford clutched at his arm, and asked in a hoarse whisper: +"'Ow long 'fore she's back?" + +"'Bout a hour, I expect," Simmons replied, having first of all repeated +the question in his own mind. And then he opened the parlor door. + +"Ah," said Ford, looking about him, "you've bin pretty comf'table. Them +chairs an' things"--jerking his pipe toward them--"was hers--mine that +is to say, speaking straight, and man to man." He sat down, puffing +meditatively at his pipe, and presently: "Well," he continued, "'ere I +am agin, ol' Bob Ford dead an' done for--gawn down in the _Mooltan_. +On'y I _ain't_ done for, see?"--and he pointed the stem of his pipe at +Simmons's waistcoat,--"I ain't done for, 'cause why? Cons'kence o' bein' +picked up by a ol' German sailin'-'utch an' took to 'Frisco 'fore the +mast. I've 'ad a few years o' knockin' about since then, an' +now"--looking hard at Simmons--"I've come back to see my wife." + +"She--she don't like smoke in 'ere," said Simmons, as it were at random. + +"No, I bet she don't," Ford answered, taking his pipe from his mouth, +and holding it low in his hand. "I know 'Anner. 'Ow d'you find 'er? Do +she make ye clean the winders?" + +"Well," Simmons admitted uneasily, "I--I do 'elp 'er sometimes, o' +course." + +"Ah! An' the knives too, I bet, an' the bloomin' kittles. I know. +Wy"--he rose and bent to look behind Simmons's head--"s'elp me, I +b'lieve she cuts yer 'air! Well, I'm damned! Jes' wot she would do, +too." + +He inspected the blushing Simmons from divers points of vantage. Then he +lifted a leg of the trousers hanging behind the door. "I'd bet a +trifle," he said, "she made these 'ere trucks. Nobody else 'ud do 'em +like that. Damme--they're wuss'n wot you're got on." + +The small devil began to have the argument all its own way. If this man +took his wife back perhaps he'd have to wear those trousers. + +"Ah!" Ford pursued, "she ain't got no milder. An' my davy, wot a jore!" + +Simmons began to feel that this was no longer his business. Plainly, +'Anner was this other man's wife, and he was bound in honor to +acknowledge the fact. The small devil put it to him as a matter of duty. + +"Well," said Ford suddenly, "time's short an' this ain't business. I +won't be 'ard on you, matey. I ought prop'ly to stand on my rights, but +seein' as you're a well-meanin' young man, so to speak, an' all settled +an' a-livin' 'ere quiet an' matrimonual, I'll"--this with a burst of +generosity--"damme, yus, I'll compound the felony, an' take me 'ook. +Come, I'll name a figure, as man to man, fust an' last, no less an' no +more. Five pound does it." + +Simmons hadn't five pounds--he hadn't even five pence--and he said so. +"An' I wouldn't think for to come between a man an' 'is wife," he added, +"not on no account. It may be rough on me, but it 's a dooty. _I'll_ +'ook it." + +"No," said Ford hastily, clutching Simmons by the arm, "don't do that. +I'll make it a bit cheaper. Say three quid--come, that's reasonable, +ain't it? Three quid ain't much compensation for me goin' away +forever--where the stormy winds do blow, so to say--an' never as much as +seein' me own wife agin for better nor wuss. Between man an' man +now--three quid; an' I'll shunt. That's fair, ain't it?" + +"Of course it's fair," Simmons replied effusively. "It's more'n fair: +it's noble--downright noble, _I_ call it. But I ain't goin' to take a +mean advantage o' your good-'artedness, Mr. Ford. She's your wife, an' I +oughtn't to 'a' come between you. I apologize. You stop an' 'ave yer +proper rights. It's me as ought to shunt, an' I will." And he made a +step toward the door. + +"'Old on," quoth Ford, and got between Simmons and the door; "don't do +things rash. Look wot a loss it'll be to you with no 'ome to go to, an' +nobody to look after ye, an' all that. It'll be dreadful. Say a +couple--there, we won't quarrel, jest a single quid, between man an' +man, an' I'll stand a pot out o' the money. You can easy raise a +quid--the clock 'ud pretty nigh do it. A quid does it; an' I'll--" + +There was a loud double-knock at the front door. In the East End a +double-knock is always for the upstairs lodgers. + +"Oo's that?" asked Bob Ford apprehensively. + +"I'll see," said Thomas Simmons in reply, and he made a rush for the +staircase. + +Bob Ford heard him open the front door. Then he went to the window, and, +just below him, he saw the crown of a bonnet. It vanished, and borne to +him from within the door there fell upon his ear the sound of a +well-remembered female voice. + +"Where ye goin' now with no 'at?" asked the voice sharply. + +"Awright, 'Anner--there's--there's somebody upstairs to see you," +Simmons answered. And, as Bob Ford could see, a man went scuttling down +the street in the gathering dusk. And behold, it was Thomas Simmons. + +Ford reached the landing in three strides. His wife was still at the +front door, staring after Simmons. He flung into the back room, threw +open the window, dropped from the wash-house roof into the back-yard, +scrambled desperately over the fence, and disappeared into the gloom. He +was seen by no living soul. And that is why Simmons's base +desertion--under his wife's very eyes, too--is still an astonishment to +the neighbors. + + + + +BEHIND THE SHADE. + + +The street was the common East End street--two parallels of brick +pierced with windows and doors. But at the end of one, where the builder +had found a remnant of land too small for another six-roomer, there +stood an odd box of a cottage, with three rooms and a wash-house. It had +a green door with a well-blacked knocker round the corner; and in the +lower window in front stood a "shade of fruit"--a cone of waxen grapes +and apples under a glass cover. + +Although the house was smaller than the others, and was built upon a +remnant, it was always a house of some consideration. In a street like +this mere independence of pattern gives distinction. And a house +inhabited by one sole family makes a figure among houses inhabited by +two or more, even though it be the smallest of all. And here the seal of +respectability was set by the shade of fruit--a sign accepted in those +parts. Now, when people keep a house to themselves, and keep it clean; +when they neither stand at the doors nor gossip across back-fences; +when, moreover, they have a well-dusted shade of fruit in the front +window; and, especially, when they are two women who tell nobody their +business: they are known at once for well-to-do, and are regarded with +the admixture of spite and respect that is proper to the circumstances. +They are also watched. + +Still, the neighbors knew the history of the Perkinses, mother and +daughter, in its main features, with little disagreement: having told it +to each other, filling in the details when occasion seemed to serve. +Perkins, ere he died, had been a shipwright; and this was when the +shipwrights were the aristocracy of the workshops, and he that worked +more than three or four days a week was counted a mean slave: it was +long (in fact) before depression, strikes, iron plates, and collective +blindness had driven shipbuilding to the Clyde. Perkins had labored no +harder than his fellows, had married a tradesman's daughter, and had +spent his money with freedom; and some while after his death his widow +and daughter came to live in the small house, and kept a school for +tradesmen's little girls in a back room over the wash-house. But as the +School Board waxed in power, and the tradesmen's pride in regard +thereunto waned, the attendance, never large, came down to twos and +threes. Then Mrs. Perkins met with her accident. A dweller in Stidder's +Rents overtook her one night, and, having vigorously punched her in the +face and the breast, kicked her and jumped on her for five minutes as +she lay on the pavement. (In the dark, it afterwards appeared, he had +mistaken her for his mother.) The one distinct opinion the adventure +bred in the street was Mrs. Webster's, the Little Bethelite, who +considered it a judgment for sinful pride--for Mrs. Perkins had been a +Church-goer. But the neighbors never saw Mrs. Perkins again. The doctor +left his patient "as well as she ever would be," but bedridden and +helpless. Her daughter was a scraggy, sharp-faced woman of thirty or so, +whose black dress hung from her hips as from a wooden frame; and some +people got into the way of calling her Mrs. Perkins, seeing no other +thus to honor. And meantime the school had ceased, although Miss Perkins +essayed a revival, and joined a dissenting chapel to that end. + +Then, one day, a card appeared in the window, over the shade of fruit, +with the legend "Pianoforte Lessons." It was not approved by the street. +It was a standing advertisement of the fact that the Perkinses had a +piano, which others had not. It also revealed a grasping spirit on the +part of people able to keep a house to themselves, with red curtains +and a shade of fruit in the parlor window; who, moreover, had been able +to give up keeping a school because of ill-health. The pianoforte +lessons were eight-and-sixpence a quarter, two a week. Nobody was ever +known to take them but the relieving officer's daughter, and she paid +sixpence a lesson, to see how she got on, and left off in three weeks. +The card stayed in the window a fortnight longer, and none of the +neighbors saw the cart that came in the night and took away the old +cabinet piano with the channelled keys, that had been fourth-hand when +Perkins bought it twenty years ago. Mrs. Clark, the widow who sewed far +into the night, may possibly have heard a noise and looked; but she said +nothing if she did. There was no card in the window next morning, but +the shade of fruit stood primly respectable as ever. The curtains were +drawn a little closer across, for some of the children playing in the +street were used to flatten their faces against the lower panes, and to +discuss the piano, the stuff-bottomed chairs, the antimacassars, the +mantelpiece ornaments, and the loo table with the family Bible and the +album on it. + +It was soon after this that the Perkinses altogether ceased from +shopping--ceased, at any rate, in that neighborhood. Trade with them +had already been dwindling, and it was said that Miss Perkins was +getting stingier than her mother--who had been stingy enough herself. +Indeed, the Perkins demeanor began to change for the worse, to be +significant of a miserly retirement and an offensive alienation from the +rest of the street. One day the deacon called, as was his practice now +and then; but, being invited no further than the doorstep, he went away +in dudgeon, and did not return. Nor, indeed, was Miss Perkins seen again +at chapel. + +Then there was a discovery. The spare figure of Miss Perkins was seldom +seen in the streets, and then almost always at night; but on these +occasions she was observed to carry parcels, of varying wrappings and +shapes. Once, in broad daylight, with a package in newspaper, she made +such haste past a shop-window where stood Mrs. Webster and Mrs. Jones, +that she tripped on the broken sole of one shoe, and fell headlong. The +newspaper broke away from its pins, and although the woman reached and +recovered her parcel before she rose, it was plain to see that it was +made up of cheap shirts, cut out ready for the stitching. The street had +the news the same hour, and it was generally held that such a taking of +the bread out of the mouths of them that wanted it by them that had +plenty was a scandal and a shame, and ought to be put a stop to. And +Mrs. Webster, foremost in the setting right of things, undertook to find +out whence the work came, and to say a few plain words in the right +quarter. + +All this while nobody watched closely enough to note that the parcels +brought in were fewer than the parcels taken out. Even a hand-truck, +late one evening, went unremarked: the door being round the corner, and +most people within. One morning, though, Miss Perkins, her best foot +foremost, was venturing along a near street with an outgoing +parcel--large and triangular and wrapped in white drugget--when the +relieving officer turned the corner across the way. + +The relieving officer was a man in whose system of etiquette the +Perkinses had caused some little disturbance. His ordinary female +acquaintances (not, of course, professional) he was in the habit of +recognizing by a gracious nod. When he met the minister's wife he lifted +his hat, instantly assuming an intense frown, in the event of irreverent +observation. Now he quite felt that the Perkinses were entitled to some +advance upon the nod, although it would be absurd to raise them to a +level with the minister's wife. So he had long since established a +compromise: he closed his finger and thumb upon the brim of his hat, and +let his hand fall forthwith. Preparing now to accomplish this salute, +he was astounded to see that Miss Perkins, as soon as she was aware of +his approach, turned her face, which was rather flushed, away from him, +and went hurrying onward, looking at the wall on her side of the street. +The relieving officer, checking his hand on its way to his hat, stopped +and looked after her as she turned the corner, hugging her parcel on the +side next the wall. Then he shouldered his umbrella and pursued his way, +holding his head high, and staring fiercely straight before him; for a +relieving officer is not used to being cut. + +It was a little after this that Mr. Crouch, the landlord, called. He had +not been calling regularly, because of late Miss Perkins had left her +five shillings of rent with Mrs. Crouch every Saturday evening. He noted +with satisfaction the whitened sills and the shade of fruit, behind +which the curtains were now drawn close and pinned together. He turned +the corner and lifted the bright knocker. Miss Perkins half opened the +door, stood in the opening, and began to speak. + +His jaw dropped. "Beg pardon--forgot something. Won't wait--call next +week--do just as well;" and he hurried round the corner and down the +street, puffing and blowing and staring. "Why the woman frightened me," +he afterward explained to Mrs. Crouch. "There's something wrong with her +eyes, and she looked like a corpse. The rent wasn't ready--I could see +that before she spoke; so I cleared out." + +"P'r'aps something's happened to the old lady," suggested Mrs. Crouch. +"Anyhow, I should think the rent 'ud be all right." And he thought it +would. + +Nobody saw the Perkinses that week. The shade of fruit stood in its old +place, but was thought not to have been dusted after Tuesday. + +Certainly the sills and the doorstep were neglected. Friday, Saturday, +and Sunday were swallowed up in a choking brown fog, wherein men lost +their bearings, and fell into docks, and stepped over embankment edges. +It was as though a great blot had fallen, and had obliterated three days +from the calendar. It cleared on Monday morning, and, just as the women +in the street were sweeping their steps, Mr. Crouch was seen at the +green door. He lifted the knocker, dull and sticky now with the foul +vapor, and knocked a gentle rat-tat. There was no answer. He knocked +again, a little louder, and waited, listening. But there was neither +voice nor movement within. He gave three heavy knocks, and then came +round to the front window. There was the shade of fruit, the glass a +little duller on the top, the curtains pinned close about it, and +nothing to see beyond them. He tapped at the window with his knuckles, +and backed into the roadway to look at the one above. This was a window +with a striped holland blind and a short net curtain; but never a face +was there. + +The sweepers stopped to look, and one from opposite came and reported +that she had seen nothing of Miss Perkins for a week, and that certainly +nobody had left the house that morning. And Mr. Crouch grew excited, and +bellowed through the keyhole. + +In the end they opened the sash-fastening with a knife, moved the shade +of fruit, and got in. The room was bare and empty, and their steps and +voices resounded as those of people in an unfurnished house. The +wash-house was vacant, but it was clean, and there was a little net +curtain in the window. The short passage and the stairs were bare +boards. In the back room by the stair-head was a drawn window-blind, and +that was all. In the front room with the striped blind and the short +curtain there was a bed of rags and old newspapers; also a wooden box; +and on each of these was a dead woman. + +Both deaths, the doctor found, were from syncope, the result of +inanition; and the better-nourished woman--she on the bed--had died the +sooner; perhaps by a day or two. The other case was rather curious; it +exhibited a degree of shrinkage in the digestive organs unprecedented in +his experience. After the inquest the street had an evening's fame: for +the papers printed coarse drawings of the house, and in leaderettes +demanded the abolition of something. Then it became its wonted self. And +it was doubted if the waxen apples and the curtains fetched enough to +pay Mr. Crouch his fortnight's rent. + + + + +THREE ROUNDS. + + +At six o'clock the back streets were dank and black; but once in the +Bethnal Green Road, blots and flares of gas and naphtha shook and +flickered till every slimy cobble in the cartway was silver-tipped. +Neddy Milton was not quite fighting-fit. A day's questing for an odd job +had left him weary in the feet; and a lad of eighteen cannot comfortably +go unfed from breakfast to night-fall. But box he must, for the shilling +was irrecoverable, and so costly a chance must not be thrown away. It +was by a bout with the gloves that he looked to mend his fortunes. That +was his only avenue of advancement. He could read and write quite +decently, and in the beginning might even have been an office-boy, if +only the widow, his mother, had been able to give him a good send-off in +the matter of clothes. Also, he had had one chance of picking up a +trade, but the firm already employed as many boys as the union was +disposed to allow. So Neddy had to go, and pick up such stray jobs as he +might. + +It had been a bad day, without a doubt. Things were bad generally. It +was nearly a fortnight since Ned had lost his last job, and there seemed +to be no other in the world. His mother had had no slop-waistcoat +finishing to do for three or four days, and he distinctly remembered +that rather less than half a loaf was left after breakfast; so that it +would never do to go home, for at such a time the old woman had a trick +of pretending not to be hungry, and of starving herself. He almost +wished that shilling of entrance-money back in his pocket. There is a +deal of stuff to be bought for a shilling: fried fish, for instance, +whereof the aromas, warm and rank, met him thrice in a hundred yards, +and the frizzle, loud or faint, sang in his ears all along the Bethnal +Green Road. His shilling had been paid over but two days before the last +job gave out, and it would be useful now. Still, the investment might +turn out a gold mine. Luck must change. Meanwhile, as to being +hungry--well, there was always another hole in the belt! + +The landlord of the Prince Regent public-house had a large room behind +his premises, which, being moved by considerations of sport and profit +in doubtful proportions, he devoted two nights a week to the uses of the +Regent Boxing Club. Here Neddy Milton, through a long baptism of +pummellings, had learned the trick of a straight lead, a quick counter, +and a timely duck; and here, in the nine-stone competition to open this +very night, he might perchance punch wide the gates of Fortune. For some +sporting publican, or discriminating book-maker from Bow, might see and +approve his sparring, and start him fairly, with money behind him--a +professional. That would mean a match in six or eight weeks' time, with +good living in the mean while: a match that would have to be won, of +course. And after that ...! + +Twice before he had boxed in a competition. Once he won his bout in the +first round, and was beaten in the second; and once he was beaten in the +first, but that was by the final winner, Tab Rosser, who was now matched +for a hundred a side, sparred exhibition bouts up west, wore a light +Newmarket coat, and could stand whiskey and soda with anybody. To be +"taken up" on the strength of these early performances was more than he +could reasonably expect. There might be luck in the third trial; but he +would like to feel a little fitter. Breakfast (what there was of it) had +been ten hours ago, and since there had been but a half-pint of +four-ale. It was the treat of a well-meaning friend, but it lay cold on +the stomach for want of solid company. + +Turning into Cambridge Road, he crossed, and went on among the +by-streets leading toward Globe Road. Now and again a slight aspersion +of fine rain came down the gusts, and further damped his cap and +shoulders and the ragged hair that hung over his collar. Also a cold +spot under one foot gave him fears of a hole in his boot-sole as he +tramped in the chilly mud. + + +In the Prince Regent there were many at the bar, and the most of them +knew Neddy. + +"Wayo, Ned," said one lad with a pitted face, "_you_ don't look much of +a bleed'n' champion. 'Ave a drop o' beer." + +Ned took a sparing pull at the pot, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. A +large man behind him guffawed, and Neddy reddened high. He had heard the +joke. The man himself was one of the very backers that might make one's +fortune, and the man's companion thought it would be unsafe to back +Neddy to fight anything but a beefsteak. + +"You're drawed with Patsy Beard," one of Ned's friends informed him. +"You'll 'ave to buck up." + +This was bad. Patsy Beard, on known form, stood best chance of winning +the competition, and to have to meet him at first set-off was ill luck, +and no mistake. He was a thickset little butcher, and there was just +the ghost of a hope that he might be found to be a bit over the weight. + +A lad by the bar looked inquiringly in Ned's face and then came toward +him, shouldering him quietly out of the group. It was Sam Young, whom +Neddy had beaten in an earlier competition. "'Ungry, Neddy?" he asked, +in a corner. + +It was with a shamed face that Neddy confessed; for among those in peril +of hunger it is disgraceful to be hungry. Sam unpocketed a greasy paper, +enveloping a pallid sausage-roll. "'Ave 'alf o' this," he said. It was a +heavy and a clammy thing, but Ned took it, furtively swallowed a large +piece, and returned the rest with sheepish thanks. He did not turn again +toward the others, but went through to the room where the ring was +pitched. + +The proceedings began. First there were exhibition bouts, to play in the +company. Neddy fidgeted. Why couldn't they begin the competition at +once? When they did, his bout would be number five. That would mean at +least an hour of waiting; and the longer he waited the less fit he would +feel. + +In time the exhibition sparring was ended, and the real business began. +He watched the early bouts feverishly, feeling unaccountably anxious. +The lads looked strong and healthy. Patsy Beard was as strong as any of +them, and heavy. Could he stand it? This excited nervousness was new and +difficult to understand. He had never felt like it before. He was almost +trembling; and that lump of sausage-roll had stuck half-way, and made +breathing painful work. Patsy Beard was at the opposite corner, +surrounded by admirers. He was red-faced, well-fed, fleshy, and +confident. His short hair clung shinily about his bullet head. Neddy +noted a small piece of court-plaster at the side of his nose. Plainly +there was a tender spot, and it must be gone for, be it cut, or scratch, +or only pimple. On the left side, too, quite handy. Come, there was some +comfort in that. + +He fell to watching the bout. It was a hard fight, and both the lads +were swinging the right again and again for a knock-out. But the pace +was too hot, and they were soon breathing like men about to sneeze, +wearily pawing at each other, while their heads hung forward. Somebody +jogged him in the back, and he found he must get ready. His dressing was +simple. An ill-conditioned old pair of rubber gymnasium shoes replaced +his equally ill-conditioned bluchers, and a cotton singlet his shirt; +but his baggy corduroys, ragged at the ankles and doubtful at the seat, +remained. + +Presently the last pair of boxers was brought into the dressing-room, +and one of the seconds, a battered old pug with one eye, at once seized +Neddy. "Come along, young 'un," he said. "I'm your bloke. Got no +flannels? Awright. Jump on the scales." + +There was no doubt as to the weight. He had scaled at eight stone +thirteen; now it was eight stone bare. Patsy Beard, on the other hand, +weighed the full nine, without an ounce to spare. + +"You're givin' 'im a stone," said the old pug; "all the more credit +'idin' of 'im. 'Ere, let's shove 'em on. Feel 'em." He grinned and +blinked his solitary eye as he pulled on Neddy's hand one of a very +black and long-worn pair of boxing-gloves. They were soft and flaccid; +Neddy's heart warmed toward the one-eyed man, for well he knew from many +knocks that the softer the glove the harder the fist feels through it. +"Sawftest pair in the place, s'elp me," grunted the second, with one +glove hanging from his teeth. "My lad 'ad 'em last time. Come on." + +He snatched a towel and a bottle of water, and hurried Neddy from the +dressing-room to the ring. Neddy sat in his chair in the ring-corner, +and spread his arms on the ropes: while his second, arms uplifted, stood +before him and ducked solemnly forward and back with the towel flicking +overhead. While he was fanning, Neddy was still conscious of the lump of +sausage-roll in his chest. Also he fell to wondering idly why they +called Beard Patsy, when his first name was Joe. The same reflection +applied to Tab Rosser, and Hocko Jones, and Tiggy Magson. But certainly +he felt hollow and sick in the belly. Could he stand punching? It would +never do to chuck it half through. Still-- + +"Ready!" sang the timekeeper. + +The old pug threw the towel over his arm. "'Ave a moistener," he said, +presenting the water-bottle to Neddy's mouth. "Don't swaller any," he +added, as his principal took a large gulp. "Spit it out." + +"Seconds out of the ring!" + +The old prize-fighter took his bottle and climbed through the ropes. +"Don't go in-fightin'," he whispered from behind. "Mark 'im on the +stickin'-plaster; an' if you don't give 'im a 'idin', bli' me, I'll give +you one!" + +"Time!" + +The seconds seized the chairs and dragged them out of the ring, as the +lads advanced and shook hands. Patsy Beard flung back his right foot, +and made a flashy prance with his left knee as they began to spar for an +opening: it was Patsy's way. All Neddy's anxiety was gone. The moment +his right foot dropped behind his left, and his left hand rocked, +knuckles up, before him, he was a competent workman, with all his tools +in order. Even the lump of dough on his chest he felt no more. + +"Buy, buy!" bawled a wag in the crowd, as a delicate allusion to Beard's +more ordinary occupation. Patsy grinned at the compliment, but Neddy +confined his attention to business. He feinted with his left, and got +back; but Patsy was not to be drawn. Then Neddy stepped in and led +quickly, ducking the counter and repeating before getting away. Patsy +came with a rush and fought for the body, but Neddy slipped him, and got +in one for nothing on the ear. The company howled. + +They sparred in the middle. Patsy led perfunctorily with the left now +and again, while his right elbow undulated nervously. That foretold an +attempt to knock out with the right: precautions, a straight and +persistent left, and a wary eye. So Neddy kept poking out his left, and +never lost sight of the court-plaster, never of the shifty right. Give +and take was the order of the round, and they fought all over the ring, +Patsy Beard making for close quarters, and Neddy keeping off, and +stopping him with the left. Neddy met a straight punch on the nose that +made his eyes water, but through the tears he saw the plaster displaced, +and a tiny stream of blood trickling toward the corner of Patsy's mouth. +Plainly it was a cut. He broke ground, stopped half-way and banged in +left and right. He got a sharp rive on the neck for his pains, and took +the right on his elbow; but he had landed on the spot, and the tiny +streak of blood was smeared out wide across Patsy's face. The company +roared and whistled with enthusiasm. It was a capital rally. + +But now Neddy's left grew slower, and was heavy to lift. From time to +time Patsy got in one for nothing, and soon began to drive him about the +ring. Neddy fought on, weak and gasping, and longed for the call of +time. His arms felt as if they were hung with lead, and he could do +little more than push feebly. He heard the yell of many voices, "Now +then, Patsy, hout him! 'Ave 'im out! That's it, Patsy, another like +that! Keep on, Patsy!" + +Patsy kept on. Right and left, above and below, Neddy could see the +blows coming. But he was powerless to guard or to return. He could but +stagger about, and now and again swing an ineffectual arm as it hung +from the shoulder. Presently a flush hit on the nose drove him against +the ropes, another in the ribs almost through them. But a desperate, +wide whirl of his right brought it heavily on Patsy's tender spot, and +tore open the cut. Patsy winced, and-- + +"Time!" + +Neddy was grabbed at the waist and put in his chair. "Good lad!" said +the one-eyed pug in his ear as he sponged his face. "Nothink like pluck. +But you mustn't go to pieces 'alf through the round. Was it a awk'ard +poke upsetcher?" + +Neddy, lying back and panting wildly, shook his head as he gazed at the +ceiling. "Awright; try an' save yourself a bit. Keep yer left goin'--you +roasted 'im good with that; 'e'll want a yard o' plaster to-night. An' +when 'e gits leadin' loose, take it auf an' give him the right straight +from the guard--if you know the trick. Point o' the jaw that's for, +mind. 'Ave a cooler." He took a mouthful of water and blew it in a fine +spray in Neddy's face, wiped it down, and began another overhead +fanning. + +"Seconds out of the ring!" called the timekeeper. + +"Go it, my lad,"--thus a whisper from behind,--"you can walk over 'im!" +And Neddy felt the wet sponge squeezed against the back of his neck, and +the cool water trickling down his spine. + +"Time!" + +Neddy was better, though there was a worn feeling in his arm-muscles. +Patsy's cut had been well sponged, but it still bled, and Patsy meant +giving Neddy no rest. He rushed at once, but was met by a clean +right-hander, slap on the sore spot. "Bravo, Neddy!" came a voice, and +the company howled as before. Patsy was steadied. He sparred with some +caution, twitching the cheek next the cut. Neddy would not lead (for he +must save himself), and so the two sparred for a few seconds. Then Patsy +rushed again, and Neddy got busy with both hands. Once he managed to get +the right in from the guard as his second had advised, but not heavily. +He could feel his strength going--earlier than in the last round--and +Patsy was as strong and determined as ever. Another rush carried Neddy +against the ropes, where he got two heavy body blows and a bad +jaw-rattler. He floundered to the right in an attempt to slip, and fell +on his face. He rolled on his side, however, and was up again, +breathless and unsteady. There was a sickening throbbing in the crown of +his head, and he could scarce lift his arms. But there was no respite: +the other lad was at him again, and he was driven across the ring and +back, blindly pushing his aching arms before him, while punch followed +punch on nose, ears, jaws, and body, till something began to beat +inside his head, louder and harder than all beside, stunning and +sickening him. He could hear the crowd roaring still, but it seemed +further off; and the yells of "That's it, Patsy! Now you've got 'im! +Keep at 'im! Hout 'im this time!" came from some other building close +by, where somebody was getting a bad licking. Somebody with no control +of his legs, and no breath to spit away the blood from his nose as it +ran and stuck over his lips. Somebody praying for the end of the three +minutes that seemed three hours, and groaning inwardly because of a lump +of cold lead in his belly that had once been sausage-roll. Somebody to +whom a few called--still in the other building--"Chuck it, Neddy; it's +no good. Why don'cher chuck it?" while others said, "Take 'im away, tyke +'im away!" Then something hit him between the eyes, and some other thing +behind the head; that was one of the posts. He swung an arm, but it met +nothing; then the other, and it struck somewhere; and then there was a +bang that twisted his head, and hard boards were against his face. O it +was bad, but it was a rest. + +Cold water was on his face, and somebody spoke. He was in his chair +again, and the one-eyed man was sponging him. "It was the call o' time +as saved ye then," he said; "you'd never 'a' got up in the ten seconds. +Y' ain't up to another round, are ye? Better chuck it. It's no disgrace, +after the way you've stood up." But Neddy shook his head. He had got +through two of the three rounds, and didn't mean throwing away a chance +of saving the bout. + +"Awright, if you won't," his Mentor said. "Nothink like pluck. But +you're no good on points--a knock-out's the on'y chance. Nurse yer +right, an' give it 'im good on the point. 'E's none so fresh 'isself; +'e's blowed with the work, an' you pasted 'im fine when you did 'it. +Last thing, just before 'e sent ye down, ye dropped a 'ot 'un on 'is +beak. Didn't see it, didjer?" The old bruiser rubbed vigorously at his +arms, and gave him a small, but welcome, drink of water. + +"Seconds out of the ring!" + +The one-eyed man was gone once more, but again his voice came from +behind. "Mind--give it 'im 'ard and give it 'im soon, an' if you feel +groggy, chuck it d'reckly. If ye don't, I'll drag ye out by the slack o' +yer trousis an' disgrace ye." + +"Time!" + +Neddy knew there was little more than half a minute's boxing left in +him--perhaps not so much. He must do his best at once. Patsy was showing +signs of hard wear, and still blew a little: his nose was encouragingly +crimson at the nostrils, and the cut was open and raw. He rushed in with +a lead which Neddy ducked and cross-countered, though ineffectually. +There were a few vigorous exchanges, and then Neddy staggered back from +a straight drive on the mouth. There was a shout of "Patsy!" and Patsy +sprang in, right elbow all a-jerk, and flung in the left. Neddy guarded +wildly, and banged in the right from the guard. Had he hit? He had felt +no shock, but there was Patsy, lying on his face. + +The crowd roared and roared again. The old pug stuffed his chair hastily +through the ropes, and Neddy sank into it, panting, with bloodshot eyes. +Patsy lay still. The timekeeper watched the seconds-hand pass its ten +points, and gave the word, but Patsy only moved a leg. Neddy Milton had +won. + +"Brayvo, young 'un," said the old fighter, as he threw his arm about +Neddy's waist, and helped him to the dressing-room. "Cleanest knock-out +I ever see--smack on the point o' the jaw. Never thought you'd 'a' done +it. I said there was nothink like pluck, did'n' I? 'Ave a wash now, an' +you'll be all the better for the exercise. Give us them gloves--I'm off +for the next bout." And he seized another lad, and marched him out. + +"'Ave a drop o' beer," said one of Neddy's new-won friends, extending a +tankard. He took it, though he scarcely felt awake. He was listless and +weak, and would not have moved for an hour had he been left alone. But +Patsy was brought to, and sneezed loudly, and Neddy was hauled over to +shake hands with him. + +"You give me a 'ell of a doin'," said Neddy, "_I_ never thought I'd beat +you." + +"Beat me? well you ain't, 'ave you? 'Ow?" + +"Knock-out," answered several at once. + +"Well, I'm damned," said Patsy Beard.... + + +In the bar, after the evening's business, Neddy sat and looked wistfully +at the stout red-faced men who smoked fourpenny cigars and drank special +Scotch; but not one noticed him. His luck had not come after all. But +there was the second round of bouts, and the final, in a week's +time--perhaps it would come then. If he could only win the final--then +it _must_ come. Meanwhile he was sick and faint, and felt doubtful about +getting home. Outside it was raining hard. He laid his head on the bar +table at which he was sitting, and at closing time there they found him +asleep. + + + + +IN BUSINESS. + + +There was a great effervescence of rumor in Cubitt Town when Ted Munsey +came into money. Ted Munsey, commonly alluded to as Mrs. Munsey's +'usband, was a moulder with a regular job at Moffat's: a large, quiet +man of forty-five, the uncomplaining appurtenance of his wife. This was +fitting, for she had married beneath her, her father having been a dock +timekeeper. + +To come into money is an unusual feat in Cubitt Town; a feat, +nevertheless, continually contemplated among possibilities by all Cubitt +Towners; who find nothing else in the Sunday paper so refreshing as the +paragraphs headed "Windfall for a Cabman" and "A Fortune for a Pauper," +and who cut them out to pin over the mantelpiece. The handsome coloring +of such paragraphs was responsible for many bold flights of fancy in +regard to Ted Munsey's fortune: Cubitt Town, left to itself, being +sterile soil for the imagination. Some said that the Munseys had come in +for chests packed with bank notes, on the decease of one of Mrs. +Munsey's relations, of whom she was wont to hint. Others put it at a +street full of houses, as being the higher ideal of wealth. A few, more +romantically given, imagined vaguely of ancestral lands and halls, which +Mrs. Munsey and her forbears had been "done out of" for many years by +the lawyers. All which Mrs. Munsey, in her hour of triumph, was at +little pains to discount, although, in simple fact, the fortune was no +more than a legacy of a hundred pounds from Ted's uncle, who had kept a +public-house in Deptford. + +Of the hundred pounds Mrs. Munsey took immediate custody. There was no +guessing what would have become of it in Ted's hands; probably it would +have been, in chief part, irrecoverably lent; certainly it would have +gone and left Ted a moulder at Moffat's, as before. With Mrs. Munsey +there was neither hesitation nor difficulty. The obvious use of a +hundred pounds was to put its possessors into business--which meant a +shop; to elevate them socially at a single bound beyond the many grades +lying between the moulder and the small tradesman. Wherefore the Munseys +straightway went into business. Being equally ignorant of every sort of +shopkeeping, they were free to choose the sort they pleased; and thus it +was that Mrs. Munsey decided upon drapery and haberdashery, Ted's +contribution to the discussion being limited to a mild hint of +greengrocery and coals, instantly suppressed as low. Nothing could be +more genteel than drapery, and it would suit the girls. General +chandlery, sweetstuff, oil, and firewood--all these were low, +comparatively. Drapery it was, and quickly; for Mrs. Munsey was not wont +to shilly-shally. An empty shop was found in Bromley, was rented, and +was stocked as far as possible. Tickets were hung upon everything, +bearing a very large main figure with a very small three-farthings +beside it, and the thing was done. The stain of moulding was washed from +the scutcheon; the descent thereunto from dock timekeeping was redeemed +fivefold; dock timekeeping itself was left far below, with carpentering, +shipwrighting, and engine-fitting. The Munseys were in business. + +Ted Munsey stood about helplessly and stared, irksomely striving not to +put his hands in his pockets, which was low; any lapse being instantly +detected by Mrs. Munsey, who rushed from all sorts of unexpected places +and corrected the fault vigorously. + +"I didn't go for to do it, Marier," he explained penitently. "It's +'abit. I'll get out of it soon. It don't look well, I know, in a +business; but it do seem a comfort, somehow." + +"O you an' your comfort! A lot you study _my_ comfort, Hedward!"--for he +was Ted no more--"a-toilin' an' a-moilin' with everything to think of +myself while you look on with your 'ands in your pockets. Do try an' not +look like a stuck ninny, do!" And Hedward, whose every attempt at help +or suggestion had been severely repulsed, slouched uneasily to the door, +and strove to look as business-like as possible. + +"There you go again, stickin' in the doorway and starin' up an' down the +street, as though there was no business doin'"--there was none, but that +might not be confessed. "D'y' expect people to come in with you +a-fillin' up the door? Do come in, do! You'd be better out o' the shop +altogether." + +Hedward thought so too, but said nothing. He had been invested with his +Sunday clothes of lustrous black, and brought into the shop to give such +impression of a shop-walker as he might. He stood uneasily on alternate +feet, and stared at the ceiling, the floor, or the space before him, +with an unhappy sense of being on show and not knowing what was expected +of him. He moved his hands purposelessly, and knocked things down with +his elbows; he rubbed his hair all up behind, and furtively wiped the +resulting oil from his hand on his trousers: never looking in the least +degree like a shop-walker. + +The first customer was a very small child who came for a ha'porth of +pins, and on whom Hedward gazed with much interest and respect, while +Mrs. Munsey handed over the purchase: abating not a jot of his +appreciation when the child returned, later, to explain that what she +really wanted was sewing cotton. Other customers were disappointingly +few. Several old neighbors came in from curiosity, to talk and buy +nothing. One woman, who looked at many things without buying, was +discovered after her departure to have stolen a pair of stockings; and +Hedward was duly abused for not keeping a sharp look-out while his +wife's back was turned. Finally, the shutters went up on a day's takings +of three and sevenpence farthing, including a most dubious threepenny +bit. But then, as Mrs. Munsey said, when you are in business you must +expect trade to vary; and of course there would be more customers when +the shop got known; although Hedward certainly might have taken the +trouble to find one in a busier thoroughfare. Hedward (whose opinion in +that matter, as in others, had never been asked) retired to the +back-yard to smoke a pipe--a thing he had been pining for all day; but +was quickly recalled (the pipe being a clay) upon Mrs. Munsey's +discovery that the act could be observed from a neighbor's window. He +was continually bringing the family into disgrace, and Mrs. Munsey +despaired aloud over him far into the night. + +The days came and went, and trade varied, as a fact, very little indeed. +Between three and sevenpence farthing and nothing the scope for +fluctuation is small, and for some time the first day's record was never +exceeded. But on the fifth day a customer bought nearly seven shillings' +worth all at once. Her husband had that day returned from sea with +money, and she, after months of stint, indulged in an orgie of +haberdashery at the nearest shop. Mrs. Munsey was reassured. Trade was +increasing; perhaps an assistant would be needed soon, in addition to +the two girls. + +Only the younger of the girls, by the bye, had as yet taken any active +interest in the business: Emma, the elder, spending much of her time in +a bedroom, making herself unpresentable by inordinate blubbering. This +was because of Mrs. Munsey's prohibition of more company-keeping with +Jack Page. Jack was a plumber, just out of his time--rather a catch for +a moulder's daughter, but impossible, of course, for the daughter of +people in business, as Emma should have had the proper feeling to see +for herself. This Emma had not: she wallowed in a luxury of woe, +exacerbated on occasions to poignancy by the scoldings and sometimes by +the thumpings of her mar; and neglected even the select weekly quadrille +class, membership whereof was part of the novel splendor. + +But there was never again a seven-shilling customer. The state of trade +perplexed Mrs. Munsey beyond telling. Being in business, one must, by +the circumstance, have a genteel competence: this was an elementary +axiom in Cubitt Town. But where was the money? What was the difference +between this and other shops? Was a screw loose anywhere? In that case +it certainly could not be her fault; wherefore she nagged Hedward. + +One day a polite young man called in a large pony-trap and explained the +whole mystery. Nobody could reasonably expect to succeed in a business +of this sort who did not keep a good stock of the fancy aprons and lace +bows made by the firm he was charged to represent. Of course he knew +what business was, and that cash was not always free, but that need +never hinder transactions with him: three months' credit was the regular +thing with any respectable, well-established business concern, and in +three months one would certainly sell all the fancy aprons and lace bows +of this especial kind and price that one had room for. And he need +scarcely remind a lady of Mrs. Munsey's business experience that fancy +aprons and lace bows--of the right sort--were by far the most profitable +goods known to the trade. Everybody knew _that_. Should they say a gross +of each, just to go on with? No? Well, then half a gross. These prices +were cut so near that it really did not pay to split the gross, but this +time, to secure a good customer, he would stretch a point. Mrs. Munsey +was enlightened. Plainly the secret of success in business was to buy +advantageously, in the way the polite young man suggested, sell at a +good price, and live on the profits: merely paying over the remainder at +the end of three months. Nothing could be simpler. So she began the +system forthwith. Other polite young men called, and further certain +profits were arranged for on similar terms. + +The weak spot in the plan was the absence of any binding arrangement +with the general public; and this was not long in discovering itself. +Nobody came to buy the fancy aprons and the lace bows, tempting as they +might seem. Moreover, after they had hung a week or more, Alice reported +that a large shop in the Commercial Road was offering, by retail, aprons +and bows of precisely the same sort at a less price than the polite +young man had charged for a wholesale purchase. Mrs. Munsey grew +desperate, and Hedward's life became a horror unto him. He was set to +stand at the door with a fancy apron in one hand and a lace bow in the +other, and capture customers as they passed: a function wherein he +achieved detestable failure; alarming passing women (who considered him +dangerously drunk) as greatly as his situation distressed himself. + +Mrs. Munsey grew more desperate, and drove Hedward to the rear of the +house, with bitter revilings. Money must be got out of the stock +somehow. That a shop could in any circumstances be unremunerative +puzzled as much as it dismayed her. The goods were marked down to low +prices--often lower than cost. Still Mrs. Munsey had the abiding +conviction that the affair must pay, as others did, if only she might +hold out long enough. Hedward's suggestion that he should return to the +moulding, coming and going as little in sight as possible, she repelled +savagely. "A nice notion you've got o' keepin' up a proper position. You +ain't content with disgracin' me and yourself too, playin' the fool in +the shop till trade's ruined an' nobody won't come near the place--an' I +don't wonder at it.... You're a nice sort of 'usband, I must say. What +are you goin' to do now, with the business in this pretty mess, an' your +wife an' children ready to starve? What are you goin' to do? Where are +you goin' to turn? That's what I want to know." + +"Well, I'm a-thinkin' it out, Marier, in a legal point. P'r'aps, you +know, my dear--" + +"Oh, don't dear me! I 'ate a fool." + +Marked as low as they might be, none of the aprons nor the bows nor the +towels nor the stockings nor any other of the goods were bought--never a +thing beyond a ha'porth of thread or a farthing bodkin. Rent had to be +paid, and even food cost money. There was a flavor of blank +disappointment about Saturday--the pay day of less anxious times; and +quarter day, when all these polite young men would demand the money that +was not--that day was coming, black and soon. Mrs. Munsey grew more +desperate than ever, sharp of feature, and aged. Alone, she would +probably have wept. Having Hedward at hand, she poured forth her +bitterness of spirit upon him; till at last he was nagged out of his +normal stolidity, and there came upon his face the look of a bullock +that is harried on all hands through unfamiliar streets. + +On a night when, from sheer weariness of soul, she fell from clatter +toward sleep, of a sudden Hedward spoke. "Marier--" he said. + +"Well?" + +"You ain't give me a kiss lately. Kiss me now." + +"Don't be a fool. I'm sick an' tired. Go to sleep, if you can sleep, +with everything--" + +"Kiss me, I tell you!" He had never commanded like that before. She +marvelled, feared a little, and obeyed. + +In the morning, when she awoke, he had already gone downstairs. This was +as usual. When she followed, however, he was not to be found in the +house. The shop shutters had been taken down, and the windows carefully +cleaned, although it was not the regular window-cleaning day; but the +door was shut. On the sitting-room table were two papers, one within the +other. The first was written with many faults and smudges, and this was +how it ran:-- + + + "the deed and testiment of Ed. Munsey this is to cirtiffy that i + make over all my property to my belov^d wife stock bisness and + furnitur so help me god all detts i keep to pay myself and my wife + is not ansrable for them and certiffy that I O U Minchin and co 9 + pound 4/7½ Jones and son 6 pound 13/2 and settrer all other detts + me and not my wife I O U + + ED. MUNSEY" + + +The other was a letter:-- + + + "my dear wife i have done this legle dockerment after thinking it + out it will make you alrite having all made over and me still oawe + the detts not you as you can pull round the bisness as you said + with time and if you do not see me again will you pay the detts + when it is pull round as we have been allways honnest and straght i + should wish for Emma to keep co with Jhon Page if can be mannaged + he might be shop walker and you will soon all be rich swels i know + so no more from yours affec husband + + ED. MUNSEY + + "love to Emma and Alice this one must be burnt keep the other" + + +Near the papers lay Ted Munsey's large silver watch and chain, the +silver ring that he used to fasten his best tie, three keys, and a few +coppers. Upstairs the girls began to move about. Mrs. Munsey sat with +her frightened face on the table. + + + + +THE RED COW GROUP. + + +The Red Cow Anarchist Group no longer exists. Its leading spirit appears +no more among his devoted comrades, and without him they are +ineffectual. + +He was but a young man, this leading spirit, (his name, by the bye, was +Sotcher,) but of his commanding influence among the older but unlettered +men about him, read and judge. For themselves, they had long been +plunged in a beery apathy, neither regarding nor caring for the fearful +iniquities of the social system that oppressed them. A Red Cow group +they had always been, before the coming of Sotcher to make Anarchists of +them: forgathering in a remote compartment of the Red Cow bar, reached +by a side door in an alley; a compartment uninvaded and almost +undiscovered by any but themselves, where night after night they drank +their beer and smoked their pipes, sunk in a stagnant ignorance of their +manifold wrongs. During the day Old Baker remained to garrison the +stronghold. He was a long-bankrupt tradesman, with invisible resources +and no occupation but this, and no known lodging but the Red Cow +snuggery. There he remained all day and every day, "holding the fort," +as he put it: with his nose, a fiery signal of possession, never two +feet from the rim of his pot; while Jerry Shand was carrying heavy loads +in Columbia Market; while Gunno Polson was running for a book-maker in +Fleet Street; while Snorkey was wherever his instinct took him, doing +whatever paid best, and keeping out of trouble as long as he could; and +while the rest of the group--two or three--picked a living out of the +London heap in ways and places unspecified. But at evening they joined +Old Baker, and they filled their snuggery. + +Their talk was rarely of politics, and never of "social problems": +present and immediate facts filled their whole field of contemplation. +Their accounts were kept, and their references to pecuniary matters were +always stated, in terms of liquid measure. Thus, fourpence was never +spoken of in the common way: it was a quart, and a quart was the +monetary standard of the community. Even as twopence was a pint, and +eightpence was half-a-gallon. + +It was Snorkey who discovered Sotcher, and it was with Snorkey that that +revolutionary appeared before the Red Cow group with his message of +enlightenment. Snorkey (who was christened something else that nobody +knew or cared about) had a trick of getting into extraordinary and +unheard-of places in his daily quest of quarts, and he had met Sotcher +in a loft at the top of a house in Berners Street, Shadwell. It was a +loft where the elect of Anarchism congregated nightly, and where +everybody lectured all the others. Sotcher was a very young Anarchist, +restless by reason of not being sufficiently listened to, and glad to +find outsiders to instruct and to impress with a full sense of his +sombre, mystic dare-devilry. Therefore he came to the Red Cow with +Snorkey, to spread (as he said) the light. + +He was not received with enthusiasm, perhaps because of a certain +unlaundered aspect of person remarkable even to them of the Red Cow +group. Grease was his chief exterior characteristic, and his thick hair, +turning up over his collar, seemed to have lain for long unharried of +brush or comb. His face was a sebaceous trickle of long features, and on +his hands there was a murky deposit that looked like scales. He wore, in +all weathers, a long black coat with a rectangular rent in the skirt, +and his throat he clipped in a brown neckerchief that on a time had been +of the right Anarchist red. But no want of welcome could abash him. +Here, indeed, he had an audience, an audience that did not lecture on +its own account, a crude audience that might take him at his own +valuation. So he gave it to that crude audience, hot and strong. They +(and he) were the salt of the earth, bullied, plundered and abused. Down +with everything that wasn't down already. And so forth and so on. + +His lectures were continued. Every night it was the same as every other, +and each several chapter of his discourse was a repetition of the one +before. Slowly the Red Cow group came around. Plainly other people were +better off than they; and certainly each man found it hard to believe +that anybody else was more deserving than himself. + +"Wy are we pore?" asked Sotcher, leaning forward and jerking his +extended palm from one to another, as though attempting a hasty +collection. "I ask you straight, wy are we pore? Why is it, my frien's, +that awften and awften you find you ain't got a penny in yer pocket, not +for to git a crust o' bread or 'alf a pint o' reasonable refreshment? +'Ow is it that 'appens? Agin I ask, 'ow?" + +Snorkey, with a feeling that an answer was expected from somebody, +presently murmured, "No mugs," which encouraged Gunno Polson to suggest, +"Backers all stony-broke." Jerry Shand said nothing, but reflected on +the occasional result of a day on the loose. Old Baker neither spoke nor +thought. + +"I'll tell you, me frien's. It's 'cos o' the rotten state o' s'ciety. Wy +d'you allow the lazy, idle, dirty, do-nothing upper classes, as they +call 'emselves, to reap all the benefits o' your toil wile you slave an' +slave to keep 'em in lukshry an' starve yerselves? Wy don't you go an' +take your shares o' the wealth lyin' round you?" + +There was another pause. Gunno Polson looked at his friends one after +another, spat emphatically, and said, "Coppers." + +"Becos o' the brute force as the privileged classes is 'edged +theirselves in with, that's all. Becos o' the paid myrmidons armed an' +kep' to make slaves o' the people. Becos o' the magistrates an' p'lice. +Then wy not git rid o' the magistrates an' p'lice? They're no good, are +they? 'Oo wants 'em, I ask? 'Oo?" + +"They _are_ a noosance," admitted Snorkey, who had done a little time +himself. He was a mere groundling, and persisted in regarding the +proceedings as simple conversation, instead of as an oration with pauses +at the proper places. + +"Nobody wants 'em--nobody as is any good. Then don't 'ave 'em, me +frien's--don't 'ave 'em! It all rests with you. Don't 'ave no +magistrates nor p'lice, nor gover'ment, nor parliament, nor monarchy, +nor county council, nor nothink. Make a clean sweep of 'em. Blow 'em up. +Then you'll 'ave yer rights. The time's comin', I tell you. It's comin', +take my word for it. Now you toil an' slave; then everybody'll 'ave to +work w'ether 'e likes it or not, and two hours work a day'll be all +you'll 'ave to do." + +Old Baker looked a little alarmed, and for a moment paused in his +smoking. + +"Two hours a day at most, that's all; an' all yer wants provided for, +free an' liberal." Some of the group gave a lickerish look across the +bar. "No a'thority, no gover'ment, no privilege, an' nothink to +interfere. Free contrack between man an' man, subjick to free revision +an' change." + +"Wot's that?" demanded Jerry Shand, who was the slowest convert. + +"Wy, that," Sotcher explained, "means that everybody can make wot +arrangements with 'is feller-men 'e likes for to carry on the business +of life, but nothink can't bind you. You chuck over the arrangement if +it suits best." + +"Ah," said Gunno Polson musingly, rotating his pot horizontally before +him to stir the beer; "that 'ud be 'andy sometimes. They call it +welshin' now." + +The light spread fast and free, and in a few nights the Red Cow group +was a very promising little bed of Anarchy. Sotcher was at pains to have +it reported at two places west of Tottenham Court Road and at another in +Dean Street, Soho, that at last a comrade had secured an excellent +footing with a party of the proletariat of East London, hitherto looked +on as hopeless material. More: that an early manifestation of activity +might be expected in that quarter. Such activity had been held advisable +of late, in view of certain extraditions. + +And Sotcher's discourse at the Red Cow turned, lightly and easily, +toward the question of explosives. Anybody could make them, he +explained; nothing simpler, with care. And here he posed at large in the +character of mysterious desperado, the wonder and admiration of all the +Red Cow group. They should buy nitric acid, he said, of the strongest +sort, and twice as much sulphuric acid. The shops where they sold +photographic materials were best and cheapest for these things, and no +questions were asked. They should mix the acids, and then add gently, +drop by drop, the best glycerine, taking care to keep everything cool. +After which the whole lot must be poured into water, to stand for an +hour. Then a thick, yellowish, oily stuff would be found to have sunk to +the bottom, which must be passed through several pails of water to be +cleansed: and there it was, a terrible explosive. You handled it with +care and poured it on brick-dust or dry sand, or anything of that sort +that would soak it up, and then it could be used with safety to the +operator. + +The group listened with rapt attention, more than one pot stopping +half-way on its passage mouthwards. Then Jerry Shand wanted to know if +Sotcher had ever blown up anything or anybody himself. + +The missionary admitted that that glory had not been his. "I'm one o' +the teachers, me frien's--one o' the pioneers that goes to show the way +for the active workers like you. I on'y come to explain the principles +an' set you in the right road to the social revolution, so as you may +get yer rights at last. It's for you to act." + +Then he explained that action might be taken in two ways: either +individually or by mutual aid in the group. Individual work was much to +be preferred, being safer; but a particular undertaking often +necessitated co-operation. But that was for the workers to settle as the +occasion arose. However, one thing must be remembered. If the group +operated, each man must be watchful of the rest; there must be no half +measures, no timorousness; any comrade wavering, temporizing, or +behaving in any way suspiciously, must be straightway _suppressed_. +There must be no mistake about that. It was desperate and glorious work, +and there must be desperate and rapid methods both of striking and +guarding. These things he made clear in his best conspirator's manner: +with nods and scowls and a shaken forefinger, as of one accustomed to +oversetting empires. + +The men of the Red Cow group looked at each other, and spat +thoughtfully. Then a comrade asked what had better be blown up first. +Sotcher's opinion was that there was most glory in blowing up people, in +a crowd or at a theatre. But a building was safer, as there was more +chance of getting away. Of buildings, a public office was probably to be +preferred--something in Whitehall, say. Or a bank--nobody seemed to have +tried a bank: he offered the suggestion now. Of course there were not +many public buildings in the East End, but possibly the group would like +to act in their own neighborhood: it would be a novelty, and would +attract notice; the question was one for their own decision, independent +freedom of judgment being the right thing in these matters. There were +churches, of course, and the factories of the bloated capitalist. +Particularly, he might suggest the gas-works close by. There was a large +gasometer abutting on the street, and probably an explosion there would +prove tremendously effective, putting the lights out everywhere, and +attracting great attention in the papers. That was glory. + +Jerry Shand hazarded a remark about the lives of the men in the +gas-works; but Sotcher explained that that was a trivial matter. +Revolutions were never accomplished without bloodshed, and a few casual +lives were not to be weighed in the balance against the glorious +consummation of the social upheaval. He repeated his contention, when +some weaker comrade spoke of the chance of danger to the operator, and +repeated it with a proper scorn of the soft-handed pusillanimity that +shrank from danger to life and limb in the cause. Look at the glory, and +consider the hundred-fold vengeance on the enemy in the day to come! The +martyr's crown was his who should die at the post of duty. + +His eloquence prevailed: there were murmurs no more. "'Ere, tell us the +name of the stuff agin," broke out Gunno Polson, resolutely, feeling for +a pencil and paper. "Blimy, I'll make some to-morrer." + +He wrote down the name of the ingredients with much spelling. "Thick, +yuller, oily stuff, ain't it, wot you make?" he asked. + +"Yus--an' keep it cool." + +The group broke up, stern and resolute, and Sotcher strode to his home +exultant, a man of power. + + +For the next night or two the enthusiasm at the Red Cow was unbounded. +There was no longer any questioning of principles or action--every man +was an eager Anarchist--strong and devoted in the cause. The little +chemical experiment was going on well, Gunno Polson reported, with +confident nods and winks. Sotcher repeated his discourse, as a matter of +routine, to maintain the general ardor, which had, however, to endure a +temporary check as the result of a delicate inquiry of Snorkey's, as to +what funds might be expected from head-quarters. For there were no +funds, said Sotcher, somewhat surprised at the question. + +"Wot?" demanded Jerry Shand, opening his mouth and putting down his +pipe: "ain't we goin' to get nothink for all this?" + +They would get the glory, Sotcher assured him, and the consciousness of +striking a mighty blow at this, and that, and the other; but that was +all. And instantly the faces of the group grew long. + +"But," said Old Baker, "I thought all you blokes always got somethink +from the--the committee?" + +There was no committee, and no funds: there was nothing but glory, and +victory, and triumph, and the social revolution, and things of that +kind. For a little, the comrades looked at each other awkwardly, but +they soon regained their cheerfulness, with zeal no whit abated. The +sitting closed with promises of an early gathering for the next night. + +But when the next night came Sotcher was later than usual. "Ullo," +shouted Gunno Polson, as he entered, "'ere you are at last. We've 'ad to +do important business without you. See," he added in a lower tone, +"'ere's the stuff!" And he produced an old physic-bottle nearly full of +a thick, yellowish fluid. + +Sotcher started back half a pace, and slightly paled. "Don't shake it," +he whispered hoarsely. "Don't shake it, for Gawd's sake!... Wot--wotjer +bring it 'ere for, like that? It's--it's awful stuff, blimy." He looked +uneasily about the group, and wiped his forehead with the back of his +hand. "I--I thought you'd git the job over soon as the stuff was +ready.... 'Ere, my Gawd!" he squeaked under his breath, "don't put it +down 'ard on the table like that. It's sich--sich awful stuff." He wiped +his forehead again, and, still standing, glanced once more +apprehensively round the circle of impassive faces. Then after a pause, +he asked, with an effort, "Wot--wotjer goin' to do now?" + +"Blow up the bleed'n' gas-works, o' course," answered Gunno Polson +complacently. "'Ere's a penn'orth o' silver sand, an' a 'bacca canister, +an' some wire, an' a big cracker with a long touch-paper, so as to stick +out o' the canister-lid. That ought to set it auf, oughtn't it? 'Ere, +you pour the stuff over the sand, doncher?" And he pulled out the cork +and made ready to mix. + +"'Old on--'old on--don't! Wait a bit, for Gawd's sake!" cried Sotcher, +in a sweat of terror. "You--you dunno wot awful stuff it is--s'elp me, +you don't! You--you'll blow us all up if you don't keep it still. +Y--you'll want some--other things. I'll go an'--" + +But Jerry Shand stood grimly against the door. "This 'ere conspiracy'll +'ave to be gawn through proper," he said. "We can't 'ave no waverers nor +blokes wot want to clear out in the middle of it, and p'r'aps go an' +tell the p'lice. Them sort we 'as to _suppress_, see? There's all the +stuff there, me lad, an' you know it. Wot's more, it's you as is got to +put it up agin the gas-works an' set it auf." + +The hapless Sotcher turned a yellower pallor and asked faintly, "Me? Wy +me?" + +"All done reg'lar and proper," Jerry replied, "'fore you come. We voted +it--by ballot, all square. If you'd 'a' come earlier you'd 'a' 'ad a +vote yerself." + +Sotcher pushed at Jerry's shoulder despairingly. "I won't, I won't!" he +gasped. "Lemme go--it ain't fair--I wasn't 'ere--lemme go!" + +"None o' yer shovin', young man," said Jerry severely. "None o' yer +shovin', else I'll 'ave to punch you on the jore. You're a bleed'n' nice +conspirator, you are. It's pretty plain we can't depend on you, an' you +know wot that means,--eh? Doncher? You're one o' the sort as 'as to be +suppressed, that's wot it means. 'Ere, 'ave a drink o' this 'ere beer, +an' see if that can't put a little 'art in ye. You got to do it, so you +may as well do it cheerful. Snorkey, give 'im a drink." + +But the wretched revolutionary would not drink. He sank in a corner--the +furthest from the table where Gunno Polson was packing his dreadful +canister--a picture of stupefied affright. + +Presently he thought of the bar--a mere yard of counter in an angle of +the room, with a screen standing above it--and conceived a wild notion +of escape by scrambling over. But scarce had he risen ere the watchful +Jerry divined his purpose. + +"'Old 'im, Snorkey," he said. "Keep 'im in the corner. An' if 'e won't +drink that beer, pour it over 'is 'ead." + +Snorkey obeyed gravely and conscientiously, and the bedraggled Sotcher, +cowed from protest, whined and sobbed desolately. + +When all was ready, Jerry Shand said: "I s'pose it's no good askin' you +to do it willin', like a man?" + +"O, let me go, I--I ain't well--s'elp me, I ain't. I--I might do it +wrong--an'--an'--I'm a--a teacher--a speaker; not the active branch, +s'elp me. Put it auf--for to-night--wait till to-morrer. I ain't well +an'--an' you're very 'ard on me!" + +"Desp'rit work, desp'rit ways," Jerry replied laconically. "You're +be'avin' very suspicious, an' you're rebellin' agin the orders o' the +group. There's only one physic for that, ain't there, in the rules? +You're got to be suppressed. Question is 'ow. We'll 'ave to kill 'im +quiet somehow," he proceeded, turning to the group. "Quiet an' quick. +It's my belief 'e's spyin' for the p'lice, an' wants to git out to split +on us. Question is 'ow to do for 'im?" + +Sotcher rose, a staring spectre. He opened his mouth to call, but there +came forth from it only a dry murmur. Hands were across his mouth at +once, and he was forced back into the corner. One suggested a +clasp-knife at the throat, another a stick in his neckerchief, twisted +to throttling-point. But in the end it was settled that it would be +simpler, and would better destroy all traces, to despatch him in the +explosion--to tie him to the canister, in fact. + +A convulsive movement under the men's hands decided them to throw more +beer on Sotcher's face, for he seemed to be fainting. Then his pockets +were invaded by Gunno Polson, who turned out each in succession. "You +won't 'ave no use for money where you're goin'," he observed callously; +"besides, it 'ud be blowed to bits an' no use to nobody. Look at the +bloke at Greenwich, 'ow 'is things was blowed away. 'Ullo! 'ere's two +'arf-crowns an' some tanners. Seven an' thrippence altogether, with the +browns. This is the bloke wot 'adn't got no funds. This'll be divided on +free an' equal principles to 'elp pay for that beer you've wasted. 'Old +up, ol' man! Think o' the glory. P'r'aps you're all right, but it's best +to be on the safe side, an' dead blokes can't split to the coppers. An' +you mustn't forget the glory. You 'ave to shed blood in a revolution, +an' a few odd lives more or less don't matter--not a single damn. Keep +your eye on the bleed'n' glory! They'll 'ave photos of you in the +papers, all the broken bits in a 'eap, fac-similiar as found on the +spot. Wot a comfort that'll be!" + +But the doomed creature was oblivious--prostrate--a swooning heap. They +ran a piece of clothes-line under his elbows, and pulled them together +tight. They then hobbled his ankles, and took him among them through the +alley and down the quiet street, singing and shouting their loudest as +they went, in case he might sufficiently recover his powers to call for +help. But he did not, and there in the shadow, at the foot of the great +gasometer, they flung him down with a parting kick and a barbarous knock +on the head, to keep him quiet for those few necessary moments. Then the +murderous canister, bound with wire, was put in place; the extruding +touch-paper was set going with a match; and the Red Cow Anarchists +disappeared at a run, leaving their victim to his fate. Presently the +policeman on that beat heard a sudden report from the neighborhood of +the gas-works, and ran to see what it might mean. + + +The next morning Alfred Sotcher was charged at the Thames Police Court +as a drunk and incapable. He had been found in a helpless state near the +gas-works, and appeared to have been tied at the elbows and ankles by +mischievous boys, who had also, it seemed, ignited a cracker near by +where he lay. The divisional surgeon stated that he was called to the +prisoner, and found him tearful and incoherent, and smelling strongly of +drink. He complained of having been assaulted in a public-house, but +could give no intelligible account of himself. A canister found by his +side appeared to contain a mixture of sand and castor oil, but prisoner +could not explain how it came there. The magistrate fined him five +shillings, with the alternative of seven days, and as he had no money he +was removed to the cells. + + + + +ON THE STAIRS. + + +The house had been "genteel." When trade was prospering in the East End, +and the ship-fitter or block-maker thought it no shame to live in the +parish where his workshop lay, such a master had lived here. Now, it was +a tall, solid, well-bricked, ugly house, grimy and paintless in the +joinery, cracked and patched in the windows: where the front door stood +open all day long; and the womankind sat on the steps, talking of +sickness and deaths and the cost of things; and treacherous holes lurked +in the carpet of road-soil on the stairs and in the passage. For when +eight families live in a house, nobody buys a door-mat, and the street +was one of those streets that are always muddy. It smelt, too, of many +things, none of them pleasant (one was fried fish); but for all that it +was not a slum. + +Three flights up, a gaunt woman with bare forearms stayed on her way to +listen at a door which, opening, let out a warm, fetid waft from a close +sick-room. A bent and tottering old woman stood on the threshold, +holding the door behind her. + +"An' is 'e no better now, Mrs. Curtis?" the gaunt woman asked, with a +nod at the opening. + +The old woman shook her head, and pulled the door closer. Her jaw +waggled loosely in her withered chaps: "Nor won't be; till 'e's gone." +Then after a certain pause, "'E's goin'," she said. + +"Don't doctor give no 'ope?" + +"Lor' bless ye, I don't want to ast no doctors," Mrs. Curtis replied, +with something not unlike a chuckle. "I've seed too many on 'em. The +boy's a-goin', fast; I can see that. An' then"--she gave the handle +another tug, and whispered--"he's been called." She nodded amain. "Three +seprit knocks at the bed-head las' night; an' I know what _that_ means!" + +The gaunt woman raised her brows, and nodded. "Ah, well," she said, "we +all on us comes to it some day, sooner or later. An' it's often a 'appy +release." + +The two looked into space beyond each other, the elder with a nod and a +croak. Presently the other pursued, "'E's been a very good son, ain't +'e?" + +"Ay, ay, well enough son to me," responded the old woman, a little +peevishly; "an' I'll 'ave 'im put away decent, though there's on'y the +Union for me after. I can do that, thank Gawd!" she added, meditatively, +as chin on fist she stared into the thickening dark over the stairs. + +"When I lost my pore 'usband," said the gaunt woman, with a certain +brightening, "I give 'im a 'ansome funeral. 'E was a Oddfeller, an' I +got twelve pound. I 'ad a oak caufin an' a open 'earse. There was a +kerridge for the fam'ly an' one for 'is mates--two 'orses each, an' +feathers, an' mutes; an' it went the furthest way round to the cimitry. +'Wotever 'appens, Mrs. Manders,' says the undertaker, 'you'll feel as +you're treated 'im proper; nobody can't reproach you over that.' An' +they couldn't. 'E was a good 'usband to me, an' I buried 'im +respectable." + +The gaunt woman exulted. The old, old story of Manders's funeral fell +upon the other one's ears with a freshened interest, and she mumbled her +gums ruminantly. "Bob'll 'ave a 'ansome buryin', too," she said. "I can +make it up, with the insurance money, an' this, an' that. On'y I dunno +about mutes. It's a expense." + +In the East End, when a woman has not enough money to buy a thing much +desired, she does not say so in plain words; she says the thing is an +"expense," or a "great expense." It means the same thing, but it sounds +better. Mrs. Curtis had reckoned her resources, and found that mutes +would be an "expense." At a cheap funeral mutes cost half-a-sovereign +and their liquor. Mrs. Manders said as much. + +"Yus, yus, 'arf-a-sovereign," the old woman assented. Within, the sick +man feebly beat the floor with a stick. "I'm a-comin'," she cried +shrilly; "yus, 'arf-a-sovereign, but it's a lot, an' I don't see 'ow I'm +to do it--not at present." She reached for the door-handle again, but +stopped and added, by after-thought, "Unless I don't 'ave no plooms." + +"It 'ud be a pity not to 'ave plooms. I 'ad--" + +There were footsteps on the stairs: then a stumble and a testy word. +Mrs. Curtis peered over into the gathering dark. "Is it the doctor, +sir?" she asked. It was the doctor's assistant; and Mrs. Manders tramped +up to the next landing as the door of the sick-room took him in. + +For five minutes the stairs were darker than ever. Then the assistant, a +very young man, came out again, followed by the old woman with a candle. +Mrs. Manders listened in the upper dark. "He's sinking fast," said the +assistant. "He _must_ have a stimulant. Dr. Mansell ordered port wine. +Where is it?" Mrs. Curtis mumbled dolorously. "I tell you he _must_ +have it," he averred with unprofessional emphasis (his qualification +was only a month old). "The man can't take solid food, and his strength +must be kept up somehow. Another day may make all the difference. Is it +because you can't afford it?" "It's a expense--sich a expense, doctor," +the old woman pleaded. "An' wot with 'arf-pints o' milk an'--" She grew +inarticulate, and mumbled dismally. + +"But he must have it, Mrs. Curtis, if it's your last shilling: it's the +only way. If you mean you absolutely haven't the money--" And he paused +a little awkwardly. He was not a wealthy young man--wealthy young men do +not devil for East End doctors--but he was conscious of a certain haul +of sixpences at nap the night before; and, being inexperienced, he did +not foresee the career of persecution whereon he was entering at his own +expense and of his own motion. He produced five shillings: "If you +absolutely haven't the money, why--take this and get a bottle--good: not +at a public-house. But mind, _at once_. He should have had it before." + +It would have interested him, as a matter of coincidence, to know that +his principal had been guilty of the selfsame indiscretion--even the +amount was identical--on that landing the day before. But, as Mrs. +Curtis said nothing of this, he floundered down the stair and out into +the wetter mud, pondering whether or not the beloved son of a +Congregational minister might take full credit for a deed of charity on +the proceeds of sixpenny nap. But Mrs. Curtis puffed her wrinkles, and +shook her head sagaciously as she carried in her candle. From the room +came a clink as of money falling into a teapot. And Mrs. Manders went +about her business. + +The door was shut, and the stair a pit of blackness. Twice a lodger +passed down, and up and down, and still it did not open. Men and women +walked on the lower flights, and out at the door, and in again. From the +street a shout or a snatch of laughter floated up the pit. On the +pavement footsteps rang crisper and fewer, and from the bottom passage +there were sounds of stagger and sprawl. A demented old clock buzzed +divers hours at random, and was rebuked every twenty minutes by the +regular tread of a policeman on his beat. Finally, somebody shut the +street-door with a great bang, and the street was muffled. A key turned +inside the door on the landing, but that was all. A feeble light shone +for hours along the crack below, and then went out. The crazy old clock +went buzzing on, but nothing left that room all night. Nothing that +opened the door.... + +When next the key turned, it was to Mrs. Manders's knock, in the full +morning; and soon the two women came out on the landing together, Mrs. +Curtis with a shapeless clump of bonnet. "Ah, 'e's a lovely corpse," +said Mrs. Manders. "Like wax. So was my 'usband." + +"I must be stirrin'," croaked the old woman, "an' go about the insurance +an' the measurin' an' that. There's lots to do." + +"Ah, there is. 'Oo are you goin' to 'ave,--Wilkins? I 'ad Wilkins. +Better than Kedge, _I_ think: Kedge's mutes dresses rusty, an' their +trousis is frayed. If you was thinkin' of 'avin' mutes--" + +"Yus, yus,"--with a palsied nodding,--"I'm a-goin' to 'ave mutes: I can +do it respectable, thank Gawd!" + +"And the plooms?" + +"Ay, yus, and the plooms too. They ain't sich a great expense, after +all." + + + + +SQUIRE NAPPER. + + +I. + +Bill Napper was a heavy man of something between thirty-five and forty. +His moleskin trousers were strapped below the knees, and he wore his +coat loose on his back, with the sleeves tied across his chest. The +casual observer set him down a navvy, but Mrs. Napper punctiliously made +it known that he was "in the paving"; which meant that he was a pavior. +He lived in Canning Town, and was on a footpath job at West Ham (Allen +was the contractor) when he won and began to wear the nickname "Squire." + +Daily at the stroke of twelve from the neighboring church, Bill Napper's +mates let drop rammer, trowel, spade, and pick, and turned toward a row +of basins, tied in blue-and-red handkerchiefs, and accompanied of divers +tin cans with smoky bottoms. Bill himself looked toward the street +corner for the punctual Polly bearing his own dinner fresh and hot; for +home was not far, and Polly, being thirteen, had no school now. + +One day Polly was nearly ten minutes late. Bill, at first impatient, +grew savage, and thought wrathfully on the strap on its nail by the +kitchen-dresser. But at the end of the ten minutes Polly came, bringing +a letter as well as the basin-load of beef and cabbage. A young man had +left it, she said, after asking many ill-mannered questions. The letter +was addressed "W. Napper, Esq.," with a flourish; the words, "By hand," +stood in the corner of the envelope; and on the flap at the back were +the embossed characters "T. & N." These things Bill Napper noted several +times over, as he turned the letter about in his hand. + +"Seems to me you'll 'ave to open it after all," said one of Bill's +mates; and he opened it, setting back his hat as a preparation to +serious study. The letter was dated from Old Jewry, and ran thus:-- + + + "_Re_ B. NAPPER _deceased_. + + "DEAR SIR,--We have a communication in this matter from our + correspondents at Sydney, New South Wales, in respect to + testamentary dispositions under which you benefit. We shall be + obliged if you can make it convenient to call at this office any + day except Saturday between two and four.--Your obedient servants, + + "TIMS & NORTON." + + +The dinner hour had gone by before the full inner meaning had been +wrested from this letter. "B. Napper deceased" Bill accepted, with a +little assistance, as an announcement of the death of his brother Ben, +who had gone to Australia nearly twenty years ago, and had been +forgotten. "Testamentary dispositions" nobody would tackle with +confidence, although its distinct suggestion of biblical study was duly +remarked. "Benefit" was right enough, and led one of the younger men, +after some thought, to the opinion that Bill Napper's brother might have +left him something: a theory instantly accepted as the most probable, +although some thought it foolish of him not to leave it direct instead +of authorizing the interference of a lawyer, who would want to do Bill +out of it. + +Bill Napper put up his tools and went home. There the missis put an end +to doubt by repeating what the lawyer's clerk said: which was nothing +more definite than that Bill had been "left a bit"; and the clerk only +acknowledged so much when he had satisfied himself, by sinuous +questionings, that he had found the real legatee. He further advised the +bringing of certain evidence on the visit to the office. Thus it was +plain that the Napper fortunes were in good case, for, as "a bit" means +money all the world over, the thing was clearly no worthless keepsake. + + +II. + +On the afternoon of the next day, Bill Napper, in clean moleskins and +black coat, made for Old Jewry. On mature consideration he had decided +to go through it alone. There was not merely one lawyer, which would be +bad enough, but two of them in a partnership; and to take the missis, +whose intellects, being somewhat flighty, were quickly divertible by the +palaver of which a lawyer was master, would be to distract and impede +his own faculties. A male friend might not have been so bad, but Bill +could not call to mind one quite cute enough to be of any use, and in +any case such a friend would have to be paid for the loss of his day's +work. Moreover, he might imagine himself to hold a sort of interest in +the proceeds. So Bill Napper went alone. + +Having waited the proper time without the bar in the clerk's office, he +was shown into a room where a middle-aged man sat at a writing-table. +There was no other lawyer to be seen. This was a stratagem for which +Bill Napper was not prepared. He looked suspiciously about the room, but +without discovering anything that looked like a hiding-place. Plainly +there were two lawyers, because their names were on the door and on the +letter itself; and the letter said we. Why one should hide it was hard +to guess, unless it were to bear witness to some unguarded expression. +Bill Napper resolved to speak little, and not loud. + +The lawyer addressed him affably, inviting him to sit. Then he asked to +see the papers that Bill had brought. These were an old testimonial +reciting that Bill had been employed "with his brother Benjamin" as a +boy in a brick-field, and had given satisfaction; a letter from a parish +guardian, the son of an old employer of Bill's father, certifying that +Bill was his father's son and his brother's brother; copies of the birth +registry of both Bill and his brother, procured that morning; and a +letter from Australia, the last word from Benjamin, dated eighteen years +back. These Bill produced in succession, keeping a firm grip on each as +he placed it beneath the lawyer's nose. The lawyer behaved somewhat +testily under this restraint, but Bill knew better than to let the +papers out of his possession, and would not be done. + +When he had seen all, "Well, Mr. Napper," said the lawyer, rather +snappishly (obviously he was balked), "these things seem all right, and +with the inquiries I have already made I suppose I may proceed to pay +you the money. It is a legacy of three hundred pounds. Your brother was +married, and I believe his business and other property goes to his wife +and children. The money is intact, the estate paying legacy duty and +expenses. In cases of this sort there is sometimes an arrangement for +the amount to be paid a little at a time as required; that, however, I +judge, would not be an arrangement to please you. I hope, at any rate, +you will be able to invest the money in a profitable way. I will draw a +check." + +Three hundred pounds was beyond Bill Napper's wildest dreams. But he +would not be dazzled out of his caution. Presently the lawyer tore the +check from the book, and pushed it across the table with another paper. +He offered Bill a pen, pointing with his other hand at the bottom of the +second paper, and saying, "This is the receipt. Sign just there, +please." + +Bill took up the check, but made no movement toward the pen. "Receipt?" +he grunted softly; "receipt wot for? I ain't 'ad no money." + +"There's the check in your hand--the same thing. It's an order to the +bank to hand you the amount--the usual way of paying money in business +affairs. If you would rather have the money paid here, I can send a +clerk to the bank to get it. Give me the check." + +But again Bill was not to be done. The lawyer, finding him sharper than +he expected, now wanted to get this tricky piece of paper back. So Bill +only grinned at him, keeping a good hold of the check. The lawyer lost +his temper. "Why, damn it," he said, "you're a curious person to deal +with. D'ye want the money and the check too?" + +He rang a bell twice, and a clerk appeared. "Mr. Dixon," said the +lawyer, "I have given this person a check for three hundred pounds. Just +take him round to the bank, and get it cashed. Let him sign the receipt +at the bank. I suppose," he added, turning to Bill, "that you won't +object to giving a receipt when you get the money, eh?" + +Bill Napper, conscious of his victory, expressed his willingness to do +the proper thing at the proper time, and went out with the clerk. At the +bank there was little difficulty, except at the clerk's advice to take +the money chiefly in notes, which instantly confirmed Bill in a +determination to accept nothing but gold. When all was done, and the +three hundred sovereigns, carefully counted over for the third and +fourth time, were stowed in small bags about his person, Bill, much +relieved after his spell of watchfulness, insisted on standing the clerk +a drink. + +"Ah," he said, "all you City lawyers an' clurks are pretty bleed'n' +sharp, I know, but you ain't done me, an' _I_ don't bear no malice. 'Ave +wot you like--'ave wine or a six o' Irish--I ain't goin' to be stingy. +I'm goin' to do it open an' free, I am, an' set a example to men o' +property." + + +III. + +Bill Napper went home in a hansom, ordering a barrel of beer on the way. +One of the chief comforts of affluence is that you may have beer in by +the barrel; for then Sundays and closing times vex not, and you have but +to reach the length of your arm for another pot whenever moved +thereunto. Nobody in Canning Town had beer by the barrel except the +tradesmen, and for that Bill had long envied the man who kept shop. And +now, at his first opportunity, he bought a barrel of thirty-six gallons. + +Once home with the news, and Canning Town was ablaze. Bill Napper had +come in for three thousand, thirty thousand, three hundred +thousand--any number of thousands that were within the compass of the +gossip's command of enumeration. Bill Napper was called "W. Napper, +Esq."--he was to be knighted--he was a long-lost baronet--anything. Bill +Napper came home in a hansom--a brougham--a state coach. + +Mrs. Napper went that very evening to the Grove at Stratford to buy silk +and satin, green, red, and yellow--cutting her neighbors dead, right and +left. And by the next morning tradesmen had sent circulars and samples +of goods. Mrs. Napper was for taking a proper position in society, and a +house in a fashionable part--Barking Road, for instance, or even East +India Road, Poplar; but Bill would none of such foolishness. He wasn't +proud, and Canning Town was quite good enough for him. This much, +though, he conceded: that the family should take a whole house of five +rooms in the next street, instead of the two rooms and a cellule +upstairs now rented. + +That morning Bill lit his pipe, stuck his hands in his pockets, and +strolled as far as his job. "Wayo, squire," shouted one of the men as he +approached. "'Ere comes the bleed'n' toff," remarked another. + +"'Tcheer, 'tcheer, mates," Bill responded, calmly complacent. "I'm +a-goin' to wet it." And all the fourteen men left their paving for the +beer-house close by. The foreman made some demur, but was helpless, and +ended by coming himself. "Now then, gaffer," said Bill, "none o' your +sulks. No one ain't a-goin' to stand out of a drink o' mine--unless 'e +wants to fight. As for the job--damn the job! I'd buy up fifty jobs like +that 'ere and not stop for the change. You send the guv'nor to me if +_'e_ says anythink: unnerstand? You send 'im to _me_." And he laid hands +on the foreman, who was not a big man, and hauled him after the others. + +They wetted it for two or three hours, from many quart pots. Then there +appeared between the swing doors the wrathful face of the guv'nor. + +The guv'nor's position was difficult. He was only a small master, and +but a few years back had been a working mason. This deserted job was his +first for the parish, and by contract he was bound to end it quickly +under penalty. Moreover, he much desired something on account that week, +and must stand well with the vestry. On the other hand, this was a time +of strikes, and the air was electrical. Several large and successful +movements had quickened a spirit of restlessness in the neighborhood, +and no master was sure of his men. Some slight was fancied, something +was not done as it should have been done from the point of view of the +workshop, and there was a strike, picketing, and bashing. Now, the worst +thing that could have happened to the guv'nor at this moment was one of +those tiny, unrecorded strikes that were bursting out weekly and daily +about him, with the picketing of his two or three jobs. Furious, +therefore, as he was, he dared not discharge every man on the spot. So +he stood in the door, and said: "Look here, I won't stand this sort of +thing--it's a damn robbery. I'll--" + +"That's all right, ol' cock," roared Bill Napper, reaching toward the +guv'nor. "You come 'an 'ave a tiddley. I'm a bleed'n' millionaire meself +now, but I ain't proud. What, you won't?"--for the guv'nor, +unenthusiastic, remained at the door. "You're a sulky old bleeder. These +'ere friends o' mine are 'avin' 'arf a day auf at my expense: +unnerstand? My expense. I'm a-payin' for their time, if you dock 'em; +an' I can give _you_ a bob, me fine feller, if you're 'ard up. See?" + +The guv'nor addressed himself to the foreman. "What's the meaning o' +this, Walker?" he said. "What game d'ye call it?" + +Bill Napper, whom a succession of pots had made uproarious, slapped the +foreman violently on the shoulder. "This 'ere's the gaffer," he +shouted. "'E's all right. 'E come 'ere 'cos 'e couldn't 'elp 'isself. I +made 'im come, forcible. Don't you bear no spite agin' the gaffer, d'y' +ear? 'E's my mate, is the gaffer; an' I could buy you up forty times, +s'elp me--but I ain't proud. An' you're a bleed'n' gawblimy +slackbaked...." + +"Well," said the guv'nor to the assembled company, but still ignoring +Bill, "don't you think there's been about enough of this?" + +A few of the men glanced at one another, and one or two rose. "Awright, +guv'nor," said one, "we're auf." And two more echoed, "Awright, +guv'nor," and began to move away. + +"Ah!" said Bill Napper, with disgust, as he turned to finish his pot, +"you're a blasted nigger-driver, you are. An' a sulky beast," he added +as he set the pot down. "Never mind," he pursued, "_I'm_ awright, an' I +ain't a 'arf-paid kerb-whacker no more, under you." + +"You was a damn sight better kerb-whacker than you are a millionaire," +the guv'nor retorted, feeling safer now that his men were getting back +to work. + +"None o' your lip," replied Bill, rising and reaching for a pipe-spill: +"none o' your lip, you work'us stone-breaker." Then, turning with a +sudden access of fury, "I'll knock yer face off, blimy!" he shouted, and +raised his fist. + +"Now, then, none o' that here, please," cried the landlord from behind +the bar; unto whom Bill Napper, with all his wonted obedience in that +quarter, answered only, "All right, guv'nor," and subsided. + +Left alone, he soon followed the master-pavior and his men through the +swing doors, and so went home. In his own street, observing two small +boys in the prelusory stages of a fight, he put up sixpence by way of +stakes, and supervised the battle from the seat afforded by a convenient +window-sill. After that he bought a morning paper, and lay upon his bed +to read it, with a pipe and a jug; for he was beginning a life of +leisure and comfort, wherein every day should be a superior Sunday. + + +IV. + +Thus far the outward and visible signs of the Napper wealth were these: +the separate house; the barrel of beer; a piano--not bought as a musical +instrument, but as one of the visible signs; a daily paper, also +primarily a sign; the bonnets and dresses of the missis; and the +perpetual possession of Bill Napper by a varying degree of fuddlement. +An inward and dissembled sign was a regiment, continually reinforced, +of mostly empty bottles, in a cupboard kept sacred by the missis. And +the faculties of that good lady herself experienced a fluctuating +confusion from causes not always made plain to Bill: for the money was +kept in the bedroom chest of drawers, and it was easy to lay hands on a +half-sovereign as required without unnecessary disturbance. + +Now and again Bill Napper would discuss the abstract question of +entering upon some investment or business pursuit. Land had its +advantages; great advantages; and he had been told that it was very +cheap just now, in some places. Houses were good, too, and a suitable +possession for a man of consideration. Not so desirable on the whole, +however, as Land. You bought your Land and--well there it was, and you +could take things easily. But with Houses there was rent to collect, and +repairs to see to, and so forth. It was a vastly paying thing for any +man with capital to be a Merchant; but there was work even in that, and +you had to be perpetually on guard against sharp chaps in the City. A +public-house, suggested by one of his old mates on the occasion of +wetting it, was out of the question. There was tick, and long hours, and +a sharp look-out, and all kinds of trouble, which a man with money would +be a fool to encounter. Altogether, perhaps, Land seemed to be the +thing: although there was no need to bother now, and plenty of time to +turn things over, even if the matter were worth pondering at all, when +it was so easy for a man to live on his means. After all, to take your +boots off, and lie on the bed with a pipe and a pot and the paper was +very comfortable, and you could always stroll out and meet a mate, or +bring him in when so disposed. + +Of an evening the Albert Music Hall was close at hand, and the Queen's +not very far away. And on Sundays and Saturday afternoons Bill would +often take a turn down by the dock gates, or even in Victoria Park, or +Mile End Waste, where there were speakers of all sorts. At the dock +gates it was mostly Labor and Anarchy, but at the other places there was +a fine variety; you could always be sure of a few minutes of +Teetotalism, Evangelism, Atheism, Republicanism, Salvationism, +Socialism, Anti-Vaccinationism, and Social Purity, with now and again +some Mormonism or another curious exotic. Most of the speakers denounced +something, and if the denunciations of one speaker were not sufficiently +picturesque and lively, you passed on to the next. Indeed, you might +always judge afar off where the best denouncing was going on by the size +of the crowds, at least until the hat went round. + +It was at Mile End Waste that a good notion occurred to Bill Napper. He +had always vastly admired the denunciations of one speaker--a little +man, shabbier, if anything, than most of the others, and surpassingly +tempestuous of antic. He was an unattached orator, not confining himself +to any particular creed, but denouncing whatever seemed advisable, +considering the audience and circumstances. He was always denouncing +something somewhere, and was ever in a crisis that demanded the +circulation of a hat. Bill esteemed this speaker for his versatility as +well as for the freshness of his abuse, and Bill's sudden notion was to +engage him for private addresses. + +The orator did not take kindly to the proposal at first, strongly +suspecting something in the nature of "guy" or "kid"; but a serious +assurance of a shilling for an occasional hour and the payment of one in +advance brought him over. After this Squire Napper never troubled to go +to Mile End Waste. He sat at ease in his parlor, with his pot on the +piano, while the orator, with another pot on the mantelpiece, stood up +and denounced to order. "Tip us the Teetotal an' +Down-with-the-Public-'Ouse," Bill would request, and the orator (his +name was Minns) would oblige in that line till most of the strong +phrases had run out, and had begun to recur. Then Bill would say, "Now +come the Rights o' Labor caper." Whereupon Minns would take a pull at +the pot, and proceed to denounce Capital, Bill Napper applauding or +groaning at the pauses provided for those purposes. And so on with +whatever subjects appealed to the patron's fancy. It was a fancy that +sometimes put the orator's invention to grievous straits; but for Bill +the whole performance was peculiarly privileged and dignified. For to +have an orator gesticulating and speechifying all to one's self, on +one's own order and choice of subject, is a thing not given to all men. + +One day Minns turned up (not having been invited) with a friend. Bill +did not take to the friend. He was a lank-jawed man with a shifty eye, +who smiled as he spoke, and showed a top row of irregular and dirty +teeth. This friend, Minns explained, was a journalist--a writer of +newspapers; and between them they had an idea, which idea the friend set +forth. Everybody, he said, who knew the history of Mr. Napper admired +his sturdy independence and democratic simplicity. He was of the people +and not ashamed of it. ("Well, no, I ain't proud," Bill interjected, +wondering what was coming.) With all the advantages of wealth, he +preferred to remain one of the people, living among them plainly, +conforming to their simple habits, and sympathizing with their sorrows. +("This chap," thought Bill, "wants to be took on to hold forth turn +about with the other, and he's showing his capers; but I ain't on it.") +It was the knowledge of these things, so greatly to Mr. Napper's honor, +that had induced Minns and Minns's friend to place before him a means by +which he might do the cause of toiling humanity a very great service. A +new weekly paper was wanted--wanted very badly: a paper that should rear +its head on behalf of the downtrodden toilers, and make its mighty voice +heard with dread by the bloated circles of Class and Privilege. That +paper would prove a marvellously paying investment to its proprietor, +bringing him enormous profits every week. He would have a vast fortune +in that paper alone, besides the glory and satisfaction of striking the +great blow that should pave the way to the emancipation of the Masses +and the destruction of the vile system of society whose whole and sole +effect was the accumulation of wealth in the hands of the Grasping Few. +Being professionally disengaged at present, he (the speaker), in +conjunction with his friend Minns, had decided to give Mr. Napper the +opportunity of becoming its proprietor. + +Bill was more than surprised: he was also a little bewildered. "What," +he said, after two draws of his pipe, "d'ye mean you want me to go in +the printin' line?" + +That was not at all necessary. The printing would be done by contract. +Mr. Napper would only have to find the money. The paper, with a couple +of thousand pounds behind it--or even one thousand (Minns's friend read +a difficulty in Bill's face)--would be established forever. Even five +hundred would do, and many successful papers had been floated with no +more than a couple of hundred or so. Suppose they said just a couple of +hundred to go on with, till the paper found its legs and began to pay? +How would that do? + +Bill Napper smoked a dozen whiffs. Then he said: "An' what should I 'ave +to do with the two 'undred pound? Buy anythink?" + +Not directly that, the promoters explained. It would finance the +thing--just finance it. + +"'Oo'd 'ave the money then?" + +That was perfectly simple. It would simply be handed over to Minns and +his friend, and they would attend to all the details. + +Bill Napper continued to smoke. Then, beginning with a slight chuckle at +the back of his throat, he said: "W'en I got my money, I went to a +lawyer's for it. There was two lawyers--one layin' low. There was two +fust-rate lawyers an' a lot o' clurks--City clurks--an' a bank an' all. +An' they couldn't 'ave me, not for a single farden--not a farden, try +an' fiddle as they would.... Well, arter that, it ain't much good _you_ +a-tryin' it on, is it?" And he chuckled again, louder. + +Minns was indignant, and Minns's friend was deeply hurt. Both protested. +Bill Napper laughed aloud. "Awright, you'll do," he said; "you'll do. My +'abits may be simple, but they ain't as simple as all that. Ha--ha! +'Ere, 'ave a drink--you ain't done no 'arm, an' I ain't spiteful. +Ha--ha!" + + +It was on an evening a fortnight after this that, as Bill Napper lay, +very full of beer and rather sleepy, on the bed--the rest of his +household being out of doors--a ladder was quietly planted against the +outer wall from the back-yard. Bill heard nothing until the window, +already a little open, was slowly pushed up, and from the twilight +outside a head and an arm plunged into the thicker darkness of the room, +and a hand went feeling along the edge of the chest of drawers by the +window. Bill rolled over on the bed, and reached from the floor one of a +pair of heavy iron-set boots. Taking the toe in his right hand, and +grasping the footrail of the bedstead with his left, he raised himself +on his knees, and brought the boot-heel down heavily on the intruding +head. There was a gasp, and the first breath of a yell, and head, arm, +shoulders, and body vanished with a bump and a rattle. Bill Napper let +the boot fall, dropped back on the bed, and took no further heed. + +Neither Minns nor his friend ever came back again, but for some time +after, at Victoria Park, Minns, inciting an outraged populace to rise +and sweep police and army from the earth, was able to point to an +honorable scar on his own forehead, the proof and sign of a police +bludgeoning at Tower Hill--or Trafalgar Square. + + +V. + +Things went placidly on for near ten months. Many barrels of beer had +come in full and been sent empty away. Also the missis had got a gold +watch and divers new bonnets and gowns, some by gift from Bill, some by +applying privily to the drawer. Her private collection of bottles, too, +had been cleared out twice, and was respectable for the third time. +Everybody was not friendly with her, and one bonnet had been torn off +her head by a neighbor who disliked her airs. + +So it stood when, on a certain morning, Bill being minded to go out, +found but two shillings in his pocket. He called upstairs to the missis, +as was his custom in such a pass, asking her to fetch a sovereign or two +when she came down; and as she was long in coming, he went up himself. +The missis left the room hurriedly, and Bill, after raking out every +corner of the drawer (which he himself had not opened for some time) saw +not a single coin. The missis had no better explanation than that there +must have been thieves in the house some time lately: a suggestion +deprived of some value by the subsequent protest that Bill couldn't +expect money to last forever, and that he had had the last three days +ago. In the end there was a vehement row, and the missis was severely +thumped. + +The thumping over, Bill Napper conceived a great idea. Perhaps after all +the lawyers had done him by understating the amount his brother had +left. It might well have been five hundred pounds--a thousand +pounds--anything. Probably it was, and the lawyers had had the +difference. Plainly, three hundred pounds was a suspiciously small sum +to inherit from a well-to-do brother. He would go to the lawyers and +demand the rest of his money. He would not reveal his purpose till he +saw the lawyers face to face, and then he would make his demand +suddenly, so that surprise and consternation should overwhelm and betray +them. He would give them to understand that he had complete evidence of +the whole swindle. In any case he could lose nothing. He went, after +carefully preparing his part, and was turned out by a policeman. + +"After that," mused Squire Napper, going home, "I suppose I'd better see +about getting a job at Allen's again. He can't but make me gaffer, +considering I've been a man of property." + + + + +"A POOR STICK." + + +Mrs. Jennings (or Jinnins, as the neighbors would have it) ruled +absolutely at home, when she took so much trouble as to do anything at +all there--which was less often than might have been. As for Robert, her +husband, he was a poor stick, said the neighbors. And yet he was a man +with enough of hardihood to remain a non-unionist in the erector's shop +at Maidment's all the years of his service; no mean test of a man's +fortitude and resolution, as many a sufferer for independent opinion +might testify. The truth was that Bob never grew out of his +courtship-blindness. Mrs. Jennings governed as she pleased, stayed out +or came home as she chose, and cooked a dinner or didn't, as her +inclination stood. Thus it was for ten years, during which time there +were no children, and Bob bore all things uncomplaining: cooking his own +dinner when he found none cooked, and sewing on his own buttons. Then of +a sudden came children, till in three years there were three; and Bob +Jennings had to nurse and to wash them as often as not. + +Mrs. Jennings at this time was what is called rather a fine woman: a +woman of large scale and full development; whose slatternly habit left +her coarse black hair to tumble in snake-locks about her face and +shoulders half the day; who, clad in half-hooked clothes, bore herself +notoriously and unabashed in her fulness; and of whom ill things were +said regarding the lodger. The gossips had their excuse. The lodger was +an irregular young cabinetmaker, who lost quarters and halves and whole +days; who had been seen abroad with his landlady, what time Bob Jennings +was putting the children to bed at home; who on his frequent holidays +brought in much beer, which he and the woman shared, while Bob was at +work. To carry the tale to Bob would have been a thankless errand, for +he would have none of anybody's sympathy, even in regard to miseries +plain to his eye. But the thing got about in the workshop, and there his +days were made bitter. + +At home things grew worse. To return at half-past five, and find the +children still undressed, screaming, hungry, and dirty, was a matter of +habit: to get them food, to wash them, to tend the cuts and bumps +sustained through the day of neglect, before lighting a fire and +getting tea for himself, were matters of daily duty. "Ah," he said to +his sister, who came at intervals to say plain things about Mrs. +Jennings, "you shouldn't go for to set a man agin 'is wife, Jin. Melier +do'n' like work, I know, but that's nach'ral to 'er. She ought to +married a swell 'stead o' me; she might 'a' done easy if she liked, +bein' sich a fine gal; but she's good-'arted, is Melier; an' she can't +'elp bein' a bit thoughtless." Whereat his sister called him a fool (it +was her customary good-by at such times), and took herself off. + +Bob Jennings's intelligence was sufficient for his common needs, but it +was never a vast intelligence. Now, under a daily burden of dull misery, +it clouded and stooped. The base wit of the workshop he comprehended +less, and realized more slowly, than before; and the gaffer cursed him +for a sleepy dolt. + +Mrs. Jennings ceased from any pretence of housewifery, and would +sometimes sit--perchance not quite sober--while Bob washed the children +in the evening, opening her mouth only to express her contempt for him +and his establishment, and to make him understand that she was sick of +both. Once, exasperated by his quietness, she struck at him; and for a +moment he was another man. "Don't do that, Melier," he said, "else I +might forget myself." His manner surprised his wife: and it was such +that she never did do that again. + +So was Bob Jennings: without a friend in the world, except his sister, +who chid him, and the children, who squalled at him: when his wife +vanished with the lodger, the clock, a shade of wax flowers, Bob's best +boots (which fitted the lodger), and his silver watch. Bob had returned, +as usual, to the dirt and the children, and it was only when he struck a +light that he found the clock was gone. "Mummy tooked ve t'ock," said +Milly, the eldest child, who had followed him in from the door, and now +gravely observed his movements. "She tooked ve t'ock an' went ta-ta. An' +she tooked ve fyowers." + +Bob lit the paraffin lamp with the green glass reservoir, and carried it +and its evil smell about the house. Some things had been turned over and +others had gone, plainly. All Melier's clothes were gone. The lodger was +not in, and under his bedroom window, where his box had stood, there was +naught but an oblong patch of conspicuously clean wall-paper. In a +muddle of doubt and perplexity, Bob found himself at the front door, +staring up and down the street. Divers women-neighbors stood at their +doors, and eyed him curiously; for Mrs. Webster, moralist, opposite, had +not watched the day's proceedings (nor those of many other days) for +nothing, nor had she kept her story to herself. + +He turned back into the house, a vague notion of what had befallen +percolating feebly through his bewilderment. "I dunno--I dunno," he +faltered, rubbing his ear. His mouth was dry, and he moved his lips +uneasily, as he gazed with aimless looks about the walls and ceiling. +Presently his eyes rested on the child, and "Milly," he said decisively, +"come an' 'ave yer face washed." + +He put the children to bed early, and went out. In the morning, when his +sister came, because she had heard the news in common with everybody +else, he had not returned. Bob Jennings had never lost more than two +quarters in his life, but he was not seen at the workshop all this day. +His sister stayed in the house, and in the evening, at his regular +homing-time, he appeared, haggard and dusty, and began his preparations +for washing the children. When he was made to understand that they had +been already attended to, he looked doubtful and troubled for a moment. +Presently he said: "I ain't found 'er yet, Jin; I was in 'opes she might +'a' bin back by this. I--I don't expect she'll be very long. She was +alwis a bit larky, was Melier; but very good-'arted." + +His sister had prepared a strenuous lecture on the theme of "I told you +so"; but the man was so broken, so meek, and so plainly unhinged in his +faculties, that she suppressed it. Instead she gave him comfortable +talk, and made him promise in the end to sleep that night, and take up +his customary work in the morning. + +He did these things, and could have worked placidly enough had he been +alone; but the tale had reached the workshop, and there was no lack of +brutish chaff to disorder him. This the decenter men would have no part +in, and even protested against. But the ill-conditioned kept their way, +till, at the cry of "Bell O!" when all were starting for dinner, one of +the worst shouted the cruellest gibe of all. Bob Jennings turned on him +and knocked him over a scrapheap. + +A shout went up from the hurrying workmen, with a chorus of "Serve ye +right," and the fallen joker found himself awkwardly confronted by the +shop bruiser. But Bob had turned to a corner, and buried his eyes in the +bend of his arm, while his shoulders heaved and shook. + +He slunk away home, and stayed there: walking restlessly to and fro, and +often peeping down the street from the window. When, at twilight, his +sister came again, he had become almost cheerful, and said with some +briskness, "I'm a-goin' to meet 'er, Jin, at seven. I know where she'll +be waitin'." + +He went upstairs, and after a little while came down again in his best +black coat, carefully smoothing a tall hat of obsolete shape with his +pocket-handkerchief. "I ain't wore it for years," he said. "I ought to +'a' wore it--it might 'a' pleased 'er. She used to say she wouldn't walk +with me in no other--when I used to meet 'er in the evenin', at seven +o'clock." He brushed assiduously, and put the hat on. "I'd better 'ave a +shave round the corner as I go along," he added, fingering his stubbly +chin. + +He received as one not comprehending his sister's persuasion to remain +at home; but when he went she followed at a little distance. After his +penny shave he made for the main road, where company-keeping couples +walked up and down all evening. He stopped at a church, and began pacing +slowly to and fro before it, eagerly looking out each way as he went. + +His sister watched him for nearly half an hour, and then went home. In +two hours more she came back with her husband. Bob was still there, +walking to and fro. + +"'Ullo, Bob," said his brother-in-law; "come along 'ome an' get to bed, +there's a good chap. You'll be awright in the mornin'." + +"She ain't turned up," Bob complained, "or else I've missed 'er. This is +the reg'lar place--where I alwis used to meet 'er. But she'll come +to-morrer. She used to leave me in the lurch sometimes, bein' nach'rally +larky. But very good-'arted, mindjer; very good-'arted." + +She did not come the next evening, nor the next, nor the evening after, +nor the one after that. But Bob Jennings, howbeit depressed and anxious, +was always confident. "Somethink's prevented 'er to-night," he would +say, "but she'll come to-morrer.... I'll buy a blue tie to-morrer--she +used to like me in a blue tie. I won't miss 'er to-morrer. I'll come a +little earlier." + +So it went. The black coat grew ragged in the service, and hobbledehoys, +finding him safe sport, smashed the tall hat over his eyes time after +time. He wept over the hat, and straightened it as best he might. Was +she coming? Night after night, and night and night. But to-morrow.... + + + + +A CONVERSION. + + +There are some poor criminals that never have a chance: circumstances +are against them from the first, as they explain, with tears, to +sympathetic mission-readers. Circumstances had always been against +Scuddy Lond, the gun. The word gun, it may be explained, is a friendly +synonym for thief. + +His first name was properly James, but that had been long forgotten. +"Scuddy" meant nothing in particular, was derived from nothing, and was +not, apparently, the invention of any distinct person. Still, it was +commonly his only name, and most of his acquaintances had also nicknames +of similarly vague origin. Scuddy was a man of fine feelings, capable of +a most creditable hour of rapturous misery after hearing, perhaps at a +sing-song, "Put Me in my Little Bed," or any other ditty that was rank +enough in sentiment: wherefore the mission-readers never really +despaired of him. He was a small, shabby man of twenty-six, but looking +younger; with a runaway chin, a sharp yellow face, and tremulously sly +eyes; with but faint traces of hair on his face, he had a great deal of +it, straight and ragged and dirty, on his head. + +Scuddy Lond's misfortunes began early. Temptation had prevailed against +him when he was at school, but that was nothing. He became errand boy in +a grocer's shop, and complications with the till brought him, a howling +penitent, to the police court. Here, while his mother hid her head in +the waiting-room, he set forth the villainy of older boys who had +prompted him to sin, and got away with no worse than a lecture on the +evils of bad company. So that a philanthropist found him a better +situation at a distance, where the evil influence could no longer move +him. Here he stayed a good while--longer than some who had been there +before him, but who had to leave because of vanishing postal orders. +Nevertheless, the postal orders still went, and in the end he confessed +to another magistrate, and fervently promised to lead a better life if +his false start were only forgiven. Betting, he protested, was this time +the author of his fall; and as that pernicious institution was clearly +to blame for the unhappy young man's ruin, the lamenting magistrate let +him off with a simple month in consideration of his misfortune and the +intercession of his employer, who had never heard of the grocer and his +till. + +After his month Scuddy went regularly into business as a lob-crawler: +that is to say, he returned to his first love, the till: not narrowly to +any individual till, but broad-mindedly to the till as a general +institution, to be approached in unattended shops by stealthy grovelling +on the belly. This he did until he perceived the greater security and +comfort of waiting without while a small boy did the actual work within. +From this, and with this, he ventured on peter-claiming: laying hands +nonchalantly on unconsidered parcels and bags at railway stations, until +a day when, bearing a fat portmanteau, he ran against its owner by the +door of a refreshment bar. This time the responsibility lay with Drink. +Strong Drink, he declared, with deep emotion, had been his ruin; he +dated his downfall from the day when a false friend persuaded him to +take a Social Glass; he would still have been an honest, upright, +self-respecting young man but for the Cursed Drink. From that moment he +would never touch it more. The case was met with three months with hard +labor, and for all that Scuddy Lond had so clearly pointed out the +culpability of Drink, he had to do the drag himself. But the +mission-readers were comforted: for clearly there was hope for one whose +eyes were so fully opened to the causes of his degradation. + +After the drag, Scuddy for long made a comfortable living, free from +injurious overwork, in the several branches of lob-crawling and +peter-claiming, with an occasional deviation into parlor-jumping. It is +true that this last _did_ sometimes involve unpleasant exertion when the +window was high and the boy heavy to bunk up; and it was necessary, at +times, to run. But Scuddy was out of work, and hunger drove him to +anything, so long as it was light and not too risky. And it is +marvellous to reflect how much may be picked up in the streets and at +the side-doors of London and the suburbs without danger or vulgar +violence. And so Scuddy's life went on, with occasional misfortunes in +the way of a moon, or another drag, or perhaps a sixer. And the +mission-readers never despaired, because the real cause was always +hunger, or thirst, or betting, or a sudden temptation, or something +quite exceptional--never anything like real, hardened, unblushing +wickedness; and the man himself was always truly penitent. He made such +touching references to his innocent childhood, and was so grateful for +good advice or anything else you might give him. + +One bold attempt Scuddy made to realize his desire for better things. He +resolved to depart from his evil ways and to become a nark--a copper's +nark--which is a police spy, or informer. The work was not hard, there +was no imprisonment, and he would make amends for the past. But hardly +had he begun his narking when some of the Kate Street mob dropped on him +in Brick Lane, and bashed him full sore. This would never do: so once +more implacable circumstance drove him to his old courses. And there was +this added discomfort: that no boy would parlor-jump nor dip the lob for +him. Indeed they bawled aloud, "Yah, Scuddy Lond the copper's nark!" So +that the hand of all Flower and Dean Street was against him. Scuddy grew +very sad. + +These and other matters were heavy upon his heart on an evening when, +with nothing in his pockets but the piece of coal that he carried for +luck, he turned aimlessly up Baker's Row. Things were very bad: it was +as though the whole world knew him--and watched. Shopkeepers stood +frowningly at their doors. People sat defiantly on piles of luggage at +the railway stations, and there was never a peter to touch for. All the +areas were empty, and there were no side-doors left unguarded, where, +failing the more desirable wedge, one might claim a pair or two of +daisies put out for cleaning. All the hundred trifling things that +commonly come freely to hand in a mile or two of streets were somehow +swept out of the world's economy; and Scuddy tramped into Baker's Row +in melting mood. Why were things so hard for some and so easy for +others? It was not as though he were to blame--he, a man of feeling and +sentiment. Why were others living comfortable lives unvexed of any dread +of the police? And apart from that, why did other gonophs get lucky +touches for half a century of quids at a time, while he!... But there: +the world was one brutal oppression, and he was its most pitiable +victim; and he slunk along, dank with the pathos of things. + +At a corner a group was standing about a woman, whose voice was uplifted +to a man's accompaniment on a stand-accordion. Scuddy listened. She +sang, with a harsh tremble:-- + + + "An' sang a song of 'ome, sweet 'ome, + The song that reached my 'art. + 'Ome, 'ome, sweet, sweet 'ome, + She sang the song of 'ome, sweet 'ome, + The song that reached my 'art." + + +Here, indeed, was something in tune with Scuddy's fine feelings. He +looked up. From the darkening sky the evening star winked through the +smoke from a factory chimney. From anear came an exquisite scent of +saveloys. Plaintive influences all. He tried to think of 'ome +himself--of 'ome strictly in the abstract, so that it might reach his +'art. He stood for some minutes torpid and mindless, oozing with +sentiment: till the song ended, and he went on. Fine feelings--fine. + +He crossed the road, and took a turning. A lame old woman sat in a +recess selling trotters, where a dark passage led back to a +mission-hall. About the opening a man hovered--fervent, watchful--and +darted forth on passers-by. He laid his hand on Scuddy's shoulder, and +said: "My dear friend, will you come in an' 'ear the word of the Lord +Jesus Christ?" + +Scuddy turned: the sound of an harmonium and many strenuous voices came +faintly down the passage. It was his mood. Why not give his fine +feelings another little run? He would: he would go in. + +"Trotters!" quavered the lame old woman, looking up wistfully. "Two a +penny! Two a penny!" But no: he went up the passage, and she turned +patiently to her board. + +Along the passage the singing grew louder, and burst on his ears +unchecked as he pushed open the door at the end:-- + + + "'Oosoever will, 'oosoever will, + Send the proclamation over vale an' 'ill; + 'Tis a lovin' Father calls the wand'rer 'ome, + 'Oosoever will may come!" + + +A man by the door knew him at once for a stranger, and found him a seat. +The hymn went quavering to an end, and the preacher in charge, a small, +bright-eyed man with rebellious hair and a surprisingly deep voice, +announced that Brother Spyers would offer a prayer. + +The man prayed with his every faculty. He was a sturdy, red-necked +artisan, great of hand and wiry of beard: a smith, perhaps, or a +bricklayer. He spread his arms wide, and, his head thrown back, brought +forth, with passion and pain, his fervid, disordered sentences. As he +went on, his throat swelled and convulsed in desperate knots, and the +sweat hung thick on his face. He called for grace, that every unsaved +soul there might come to the fold and believe that night. Or if not all, +then some--even a few. That at least one, only one, poor soul might be +plucked as a brand from the burning. And as he flung together, with +clumsy travail, his endless, formless, unconsidered vehemences of +uttermost Cockney, the man stood transfigured, admirable. + +From here and there came deep amens. Then more, with gasps, groans, and +sobs. Scuddy Lond, carried away luxuriously on a tide of grievous +sensation, groaned with the others. The prayer ended in a chorus of +ejaculations. Then there was a hymn. Somebody stuffed an open hymn-book +into Scuddy's hand, but he scarce saw it. Abandoning himself to the +mesmeric influence of the many who were singing about him, he plunged +and revelled in a debauch of emotion. He heard, he even joined in; but +understood nothing, for his feelings filled him to overflowing. + + + "I 'ave a robe: 'tis resplendent in w'iteness, + Awaitin' in glory my wonderin' view: + Oh, w'en I receive it, all shinin' in brightness, + Dear friend, could I see you receivin' one too! + For you I am prayin'! For you I am prayin'! + For you I am prayin', I'm prayin' for you." + + +The hymn ceased; all sat down, and the preacher began his discourse: +quietly at first, and then, though in a different way, with all the +choking fervor of the man who had prayed. For the preacher was fluent as +well as zealous, and his words, except when emotion stayed them, poured +in a torrent. He preached faith--salvation in faith--declaiming, +beseeching, commanding. "Come--come! Now is the appointed time! Only +believe--only come! Only--only come!" To impassioned, broken entreaty he +added sudden command and the menace of eternity, but broke away +pitifully again in urgent pleadings, pantings, gasps; pointing above, +spreading his arms abroad, stretching them forth imploringly. Come, only +come! + +Sobs broke out in more than one place. A woman bowed her head and +rocked, while her shoulders shook again. Brother Spyers's face was +alight with joy. A tremor, a throe of the senses, ran through the +assembly as through a single body. + +The preacher, nearing his peroration, rose to a last frenzy of +adjuration. Then, ending in a steadier key, he summoned any to stand +forth who had found grace that night. + +His bright, strenuous eyes were on the sobbers, charging them, drawing +them. First rose the woman who had bowed her head. Her face uncovered +but distorted and twitching, still weeping but rapt and unashamed, she +tottered out between the seats, and sank at last on the vacant form in +front. Next a child, a little maid of ten, lank-legged and outgrown of +her short skirts, her eyes squeezed down on a tight knot of +pocket-handkerchief, crying wildly, broken-heartedly, sobbed and +blundered over seat-corners and toes, and sat down, forlorn and +solitary, at the other end of the form. And after her came Scuddy Lond. + +Why, he knew not--nor cared. In the full enjoyment of a surfeit of +indefinite emotion, tearful, rapturous, he had accepted the command put +on him by the preacher, and he had come forth, walking on clouds, +regenerate, compact of fine feelings. There was a short prayer of +thanks, and then a final hymn:-- + + + "Ring the bells of 'eaven, there is joy to-day, + For a soul returnin' from the wild!" + + +Scuddy felt a curious equable lightness of spirits--a serene +cheerfulness. His emotional orgasm was spent, and in its place was a +numb calm, pleasant enough. + + + "Glory! glory! 'ow the angels sing-- + Glory! glory! 'ow the loud 'arps ring! + 'Tis the ransomed army, like a mighty sea, + Pealin' forth the anthem of the free!" + + +The service ended. The congregation trooped forth into the evening; but +Scuddy sat where he was, for the preacher wanted a few words with his +converts ere he would let them go. He shook hands with Scuddy Lond, and +spoke with grave, smiling confidence about his soul. Brother Spyers also +shook hands with him and bespoke his return on Sunday. + +In the cool air of the empty passage, Scuddy's ordinary faculties began +to assert themselves; still in an atmosphere of calm cheer. Fine +feelings--fine. And as he turned the piece of coal in his pocket, he +reflected that, after all, the day had not been altogether unlucky--not +in every sense a blank. Emerging into the street, he saw that the lame +old woman, who was almost alone in view, had risen on her crutch and +turned her back to roll her white cloth over her remaining trotters. On +the ledge behind stood her little pile of coppers, just reckoned. Scuddy +Lond's practised eye took the case in a flash. With two long tip-toed +steps he reached the coppers, lifted them silently, and hurried away up +the street. He did not run, for the woman was lame and had not heard +him. No: decidedly the day had not been blank. For here was a hot +supper. + + + + +"ALL THAT MESSUAGE." + + +I. + +"All that messuage dwelling-house and premises now standing on part of +the said parcel of ground" was the phrase in the assignment of lease, +although it only meant Number Twenty-seven Mulberry Street, Old Ford, +containing five rooms and a wash-house, and sharing a dirty front wall +with the rest of the street on the same side. The phrase was a very fine +one, and, with others more intricate, lent not a little to the triumph +and the perplexity the transaction filled old Jack Randall withal. The +business was a conjunction of purchase and mortgage, whereby old Jack +Randall, having thirty pounds of his own, had, after half-an-hour of +helpless stupefaction in a solicitor's office in Cornhill, bought a +house for two hundred and twenty pounds, and paid ten pounds for stamps +and lawyer's fees. The remaining two hundred pounds had been furnished +by the Indubitable Perpetual Building Society, on the security of a +mortgage; and the loan, with its interest, was to be repaid in monthly +instalments of two pounds and fourpence during twelve years. Thus old +Jack Randall designed to provide for the wants and infirmities of age; +and the outright purchase, he argued, was a thing of mighty easy +accomplishment. For the house let at nine shillings a week, which was +twenty-three pounds eight shillings a year; and the mortgage +instalments, with the ground rent of three pounds a year, only came to +twenty-seven pounds four, leaving a difference of three pounds sixteen, +which would be more than covered by a saving of eighteenpence a week: +certainly not a difficult saving for a man with a regular job and no +young family, who had put by thirty pounds in little more than three +years. Thus on many evenings old Jack Randall and his wife would figure +out the thing, wholly forgetting rates and taxes and repairs. + +Old Jack stood on the pavement of Cornhill, and stared at the traffic. +When he remembered that Mrs. Randall was by his side, he said, "Well, +mother, we done it;" and his wife replied, "Yus, fa', you're a lan'lord +now." Hereat he chuckled and began to walk eastward. For to be a +landlord is the ultimate dignity. There is no trouble, no anxiety in the +world if you are a landlord; and there is no work. You just walk round +on Monday mornings (or maybe you even drive in a trap), and you collect +your rents: eight and six, or nine shillings, or ten shillings, as the +case may be. And there you are! It is better than shopkeeping, because +the money comes by itself; and it is infinitely more genteel. Also, it +is better than having money in a bank and drawing interest; because the +house cannot run away as is the manner of directors, nor dissolve into +nothingness as is the way of banks. And here was he, Jack Randall, +walking down Leadenhall Street a landlord. He mounted a tram-car at +Aldgate, and all things were real. + + +II. + +Old Jack had always been old Jack since at fourteen young Jack had come +'prentice in the same engine-turner's shop. Young Jack was a married man +himself now, at another shop; and old Jack was near fifty, and had set +himself toward thrift. All along Whitechapel Road, Mile End Road, and +Bow Road he considered the shops and houses from the tram-roof, madly +estimating rents and values. Near Bow Road end he and his wife alighted, +and went inspecting Twenty-seven Mulberry Street once more. Old Jack +remarked that the scraper was of a different shape from that he had +carried in his mind since their last examination; and he mentioned it to +Mrs. Randall, who considered the scraper of fact rather better than the +scraper of memory. They walked to and fro several times, judging the +door and three windows from each side of the street, and in the end they +knocked, with a purpose of reporting the completed purchase. But the +tenant's wife, peeping from behind a blind, and seeing only the people +who had already come spying about the house some two or three times, +retired to the back and went on with her weekly washing. + +They waited a little, repeated the knock, and then went away. The whole +day was "off," and a stroll in the Tower Hamlets Cemetery was decided +on. Victoria Park was as near, but was not in the direction of home. +Moreover, there was less interest for Mrs. Randall in Victoria Park, +because there were no funerals. In the cemetery, Mrs. Randall solaced +herself and old Jack with the more sentimental among the inscriptions. +In the poor part, whose miscellaneous graves are marked by mounds alone, +they stopped to look at a very cheap funeral. + +"Lor', Jack," Mrs. Randall said under her breath with a nudge, "wot a +common caufin! Why, the body's very nigh a-droppin' through the +bottom!" The thin under-board had, in fact, a bulge. "Pore chap! ain't +it shockin'!" + +The ignominy of a funeral with no feathers was a thing accepted of +course, but the horror of a cheap coffin they had never realized till +now. They turned away. In the main path they met the turgid funeral of a +Bow Road bookmaker. After the dozen mourning coaches there were cars and +pony traps, and behind these came a fag-end of carts and donkey-barrows. +Ahead of all was the glazed hearse, with attendants in weepers, and by +it, full of the pride of artistry, walked the undertaker himself. + +"Now that," said old Jack, "is somethin' like a caufin." (It was heavy +and polished and beset with bright fittings.) "Ah," sighed his missis, +"ain't it lovely!" + +The hearse drew up at the chapel door, where the undertaker turned to +the right-about and placidly surveyed the movements of his forces. Mrs. +Randall murmured again: "Lovely--lovely!" and kept her eyes on the +coffin. Then she edged gently up to the undertaker, and whispered, "What +would that kind o' caufin be called, mister?" + +The undertaker looked at her from the sides of his eyes, and answered +briskly, "Two-inch polished oak solid extry brass fittin's." Mrs. +Randall returned to old Jack's side and repeated the words. "That must +cost a lot," she said. "What a thing, though, to be certain you won't be +buried in a trumpery box like that other! Ah, it's well to be rich." + +Old Jack gazed on the coffin, and thought. Surely a landlord, if +anybody, was entitled to indulge in an expensive coffin? All day he had +nursed a fancy that some small indulgence, something a little heavier +than usual in the matter of expense, would be proper to celebrate the +occasion. But he reflected that his savings were gone and his pockets no +fuller than had always been their Wednesday wont: though, of course, in +that matter the future would be different. The bearers carried the +coffin into the chapel, and Mrs. Randall turned away among the graves. +Old Jack put his hands in his pockets, and, looking at the ground, said: +"That was a nobby caufin, mother, wasn't it?" Whereunto Mrs. Randall +murmured: "Lovely--lovely!" yet again. + +Old Jack walked a little further, and asked, "Two-inch polished oak, 'e +said, didn't 'e?" + +"Solid, an' extry brass fittin's; beautiful!" + +"I'll remember it. That's what you shall 'ave if it 'appens you go fust. +There!" And old Jack sat on the guard-chain of a flowery grave with the +air of one giving a handsome order. + +"Me? Git out! Look at the expense." + +"Matter o' circumstances. Look at Jenkins's Gardens. Jenkins was a +bench-'and at the Limited; got 'is 'ouses one under another through +building s'ieties. That there caufin 'ud be none too dear for _'im_. +We're beginnin'; an' I promise you that same, if you'd like it." + +"Like it!" the missis ejaculated. "Course I should. Wouldn't you?" + +"Wy, yus. Any one 'ud prefer somethin' a bit nobby; an' thick." + +And the missis reciprocated old Jack's promise, in case he died first: +if a two-inch polished oak solid could be got for everything she had to +offer. And, tea-time approaching, they made well pleased for home. + + +III. + +In two days old Jack was known as a landlord all about. On the third +day, which was Saturday, young Jack called to borrow half a sovereign, +but succeeded only to the extent of five shillings: work was slack with +him, and three days of it was all he had had that week. This had +happened before, and he had got on as best he could; but now, with a +father buying house-property, it was absurd to economize for lack of +half a sovereign. When he brought the five shillings home, his wife +asked why he had not thrown them at his father's head: a course of +procedure which, young Jack confessed, had never occurred to his mind. +"Stingy old 'unks!" she scolded. "A-goin' about buyin' 'ouses, an' won't +lend 'is own son ten shillin's! Much good may all 'is money do 'im with +'is 'ateful mean ways!" This was the beginning of old Jack's +estrangement from his relatives. For young Jack's missis expressed her +opinion in other places, and young Jack was soon ready to share it: +rigidly abstaining from another attempt at a loan, though he never +repaid the five shillings. + +In the course of the succeeding week two of his shopmates took old Jack +aside at different times to explain that the loan of a pound or two +would make the greatest imaginable difference to the whole course of +their future lives, while the temporary absence of the money would be +imperceptible to a capitalist like himself. When he roundly declared +that he had as few loose sovereigns as themselves, he was set down as an +uncommon liar as well as a wretched old miser. This was the beginning of +old Jack's unpopularity in the workshop. + + +IV. + +He took a half-day off to receive the first week's rent in state, and +Mrs. Randall went with him. He showed his written authority from the +last landlord, and the tenant's wife paid over the sum of nine +shillings, giving him at the same time the rent-book to sign and a slip +of written paper. This last was a week's notice to terminate the +tenancy. + +"We're very well satisfied with the 'ouse," the tenant's wife said (she +was a painfully clean, angular woman, with a notable flavor of yellow +soap and scrubbing-brush about her), "but my 'usband finds it too far to +get to an' from Albert Docks mornin' and night. So we're goin' to West +'Am." And she politely ejected her visitors by opening the door and +crowding them through it. + +The want of a tenant was a contingency that old Jack had never +contemplated. As long as it lasted it would necessitate the setting by +of ten and sixpence a week for the building society payments and the +ground-rent. This was serious: it meant knocking off some of the +butcher's meat, all the beer and tobacco, and perhaps a little firing. +Old Jack resolved to waste no more half-days in collecting, but to send +his missis. On the following Monday, therefore, while the tenant's wife +kept a sharp eye on the man who was piling a greengrocer's van with +chairs and tables, Mrs. Randall fixed a "To Let" bill in the front +window. In the leaves of the rent-book she found another thing of +chagrin: to wit, a notice demanding payment of poor, highway, and +general rates to the amount of one pound eighteen and sevenpence. Now, +no thought of rates and taxes had ever vexed the soul of old Jack. Of +course, he might have known that his own landlord paid the rates for his +house; but, indeed, he had never once thought of the thing, being +content with faithfully paying the rent, and troubling no more about it. +That night was one of dismal wakefulness for old Jack and his missis. If +he had understood the transaction at the lawyer's office, he would have +known that a large proportion of the sum due had been allowed him in the +final adjustment of payment to the day; and if he had known something of +the ways of rate-collecting, he would have understood that payment was +not expected for at least a month. As it was, the glories of +lease-possession grew dim in his eyes, and a landlord seemed a poor +creature, spending his substance to keep roofs over the heads of +strangers. + + +V. + +On Wednesday afternoon a man called about taking the house, and returned +in the evening, when old Jack was home. He was a large-featured, +quick-eyed man, with a loud, harsh voice and a self-assertive manner. +Quickly old Jack recognized him as a speaker he had heard at certain +street-corners: a man who was secretary, or delegate, or that sort of +thing, to something that old Jack had forgotten. + +He began with the announcement, "I am Joe Parsons," delivered with a +stare for emphasis, and followed by a pause to permit assimilation. + +Old Jack had some recollection of the name, but it was indefinite. He +wondered whether or not he should address the man as "sir," considering +the street speeches, and the evident importance of the name. But then, +after all, he was a landlord himself. So he only said, "Yus?" + +"I am Joe Parsons," the man repeated; "and I'm looking for a 'ouse." + +There was another pause, which lasted till old Jack felt obliged to say +something. So he said, "Yus?" again. + +"I'm looking for a 'ouse," the man repeated, "and, if we can arrange +things satisfactory, I might take yours." + +Mr. Joe Parsons was far above haggling about the rent, but he had +certain ideas as to painting and repairs that looked expensive. In the +end old Jack promised the paint a touch-up, privily resolving to do the +work himself in his evenings. And on the whole, Mr. Joe Parsons was +wonderfully easy to come to terms with, considering his eminent public +character. And anything in the nature of a reference in his case would +have been absurd. As himself observed, his name was enough for that. + + +VI. + +Old Jack did the painting, and the new tenant took possession. When Mrs. +Randall called for the first week a draggle-tailed little woman with a +black eye meekly informed her that Mr. Parsons was not at home, and had +left no money nor any message as to the rent. This was awkward, because +the first building society instalment would be due before next +rent-day--to say nothing of the rates. But it would never do to offend +Mr. Parsons. So the money was scraped together by heroic means (the +missis produced an unsuspected twelve and sixpence from a gallipot on +the kitchen dresser), and the first instalment was paid. + +Mrs. Randall called twice at Mulberry Street next rent-day, but nobody +answered her knocks. Old Jack, possessed by a misty notion, born of use, +that rent was constitutionally demandable only on Monday morning, called +no more for a week. But on Thursday evening a stout little stranger, +with a bald head which he wiped continually, came to the Randalls to ask +if the tenant of Twenty-seven Mulberry Street was Mr. Joe Parsons. +Assured that it was, he nodded, said, "Thanks! that's all," wiped his +head again, and started to go. Then he paused, and "Pay his rent +regular?" he asked. Old Jack hesitated. "Ah, thought so," said the +little stranger. "He's a wrong 'un. _I've_ got a bit o' paper for 'im." +And he clapped on his hat with the handkerchief in it and vanished. + + +VII. + +Old Jack felt unhappy, for a landlord. He and the missis reproached +themselves for not asking the little stranger certain questions; but he +had gone. Next Monday morning old Jack took another half-day, and went +to Mulberry Street himself. From appearances, he assured himself that a +belief, entertained by his missis, that the upper part of his house was +being sublet, was well founded. He watched awhile from a corner, until a +dirty child kicked at the door, and it was opened. Then he went across +and found the draggle-tailed woman who had answered Mrs. Randall before, +in every respect the same to look at, except that not one eye was black +but two. Old Jack, with some abruptness, demanded his rent of her, +addressing her as Mrs. Parsons. Without disclaiming the name, she +pleaded with meek uneasiness that Mr. Parsons really wasn't at home, and +she didn't know when to expect him. At last, finding this ineffectual, +she produced four and sixpence: begging him with increasing agitation to +take that on account and call again. + +Old Jack took the money, and called again at seven. Custom or law or +what-not, he would wait for no Monday morning now. The door was open, +and a group of listening children stood about it. From within came a +noise of knocks and thuds and curses--sometimes a gurgle. Old Jack asked +a small boy, whose position in the passage betokened residence, what was +going forward. "It's the man downstairs," said the boy, "a-givin' of it +to 'is wife for payin' awy the lodgers' rent." + +At this moment Mr. Joe Parsons appeared in the passage. The children, +who had once or twice commented in shouts, dispersed. "I've come for my +rent," said old Jack. + +Mr. Joe Parsons saw no retreat. So he said, "Rent? Ain't you 'ad it? I +don't bother about things in the 'ouse. Come again when my wife's in." + +"She is in," rejoined old Jack, "an' you've been a-landin' of 'er for +payin' me what little she 'as. Come, you pay me what you owe me, and +take a week's notice now. I want my house kep' respectable." + +Mr. Joe Parsons had no other shift. "You be damned," he said. "Git out." + +"What?" gasped old Jack--for to tell a landlord to get out of his own +house!... "What?" + +"Why git out? Y' ought to know better than comin' 'ere askin' for money +you ain't earnt." + +"Ain't earnt? What d'ye mean?" + +"What I say. Y' ain't earnt it. It's you blasted lan'lords as sucks the +blood o' the workers. You go an' work for your money." + +Old Jack was confounded. "Why--what--how d'ye think I can pay the rates, +an' everythink?" + +"I don't care. You'll _'ave_ to pay 'em, an' I wish they was 'igher. +They ought to be the same as the rent, an' that 'ud do away with fellers +like you. Go on: you do your damdest an' get your rent best way you +can." + +"But what about upstairs? You're lettin' it out an' takin' the rent +there. I--" + +"That's none o' your business. Git out, will ye?" They had gradually +worked over the doorstep, and Randall was on the pavement. "I sha'n't +pay, an' I sha'n't go, an' ye can do what ye like; so it's no good your +stoppin'--unless you want to fight. Eh--do ye?" And Mr. Parsons put a +foot over the threshold. + +Old Jack had not fought for many years. It was low. For a landlord +outside his own house it was, indeed, disgraceful. But it was quite dark +now, and there was scarcely a soul in the street. Perhaps nobody would +know, and this man deserved something for himself. He looked up the +street again, and then, "Well, I ain't so young as I was," he said, "but +I won't disappoint ye. Come on." + +Mr. Joe Parsons stepped within and slammed the door. + + +VIII. + +Old Jack went home less happy than ever. He had no notion what to do. +Difficulties of private life were often discussed and argued out in the +workshop, but there he had become too unpopular to ask for anything in +the nature of sympathy or advice. Not only would he lend no money, but +he refused to stand treat on rent days. Also, there was a collection on +behalf of men on strike at another factory, to which he gave nothing; +and he had expressed the strongest disapproval of an extension of that +strike, and his own intention to continue working if it happened. For +what would become of all his plans and his savings if his wages ceased? +Wherefore there was no other man in the shop so unpopular as old Jack, +and in a workshop unpopularity is a bad thing. + +He called on a professional rent-receiver and seller-up. This man knew +Mr. Joe Parsons very well. He never had furniture upon which a +profitable distress might be levied. But if he took lodgers, and they +were quiet people, something might be got out of them--if the job were +made worth while. But this was not at all what old Jack wanted. + +Soon after it occurred to him to ask advice of the secretary of the +building society. This was a superficial young man, an auctioneer's +clerk until evening, who had no disposition to trouble himself about +matters outside his duties. Still, he went so far as to assure old Jack +that turning out a tenant who meant to stay was not a simple job. If you +didn't mind losing the rent it might be done by watching until the house +was left ungarrisoned, getting in, putting the furniture into the +street, and keeping the tenant out. With this forlorn hope old Jack +began to spend his leisure about Mulberry Street: ineffectually, for +Mrs. Parsons never came out while he was there. Once he saw the man, and +offered to forgive him the rent if he would leave: a proposal which Mr. +Parsons received with ostentatious merriment. At this old Jack's +patience gave out, and he punched his tenant on the ear. Whereat the +latter, suddenly whitening in the face, said something about the police, +and walked away at a good pace. + + +IX. + +The strike extended, as it was expected and designed to do. The men at +old Jack's factory were ordered out, and came, excepting only old Jack +himself. He was desperate. Since he had ventured on that cursed +investment everything had gone wrong: but he would not lose his savings +if mere personal risk would preserve them. Moreover, a man of fifty is +not readily re-employed, once out; and as the firm was quite ready to +keep one hand on to oil and see that things were in order, old Jack +stayed: making his comings and goings late to dodge the pickets, and +approaching subtly by a railway-arch stable and a lane thereunto. It was +not as yet a very great strike, and with care these things could be +done. Still, he was sighted and chased twice, and he knew that, if the +strike lasted, and feeling grew hotter, he would be attacked in his own +house. If only he could hold on through the strike, and by hook or crook +keep the outgoings paid, he would attend to Mr. Parsons afterward. + + +X. + +One Saturday afternoon, as Mrs. Randall was buying greens and potatoes, +old Jack, waiting without, strolled toward a crowd standing about a +speaker. A near approach discovered the speaker to be Mr. Joe Parsons, +who was saying:-- + +"----strike pay is little enough at the time, of course, but don't +forget what it will lead to! An' strike pay does very well, my frien's, +when the party knows 'ow to lay it out, an' don't go passin' it on to +the lan'lord. Don't give it away. When the lan'lord comes o' Monday +mornin', tell 'im (polite as you like) that there's nothink for 'im till +there's more for you. Let the lan'lord earn 'is money, like me an' you. +Let the lan'lords pay a bit towards this 'ere strike as well as the +other blaggards, the imployers. Lan'lords gits quite enough out o' you, +my feller workers, when--" + +"They don't git much out o' you!" shouted old Jack in his wrath; and +then felt sorry he had spoken. For everybody looked at him, and he knew +some of the faces. + +"Ho!" rejoined the speaker, mincingly. "There's a gent there as seems to +want to address this 'ere meetin'. P'r'aps you'll 'ave the kindness to +step up 'ere, my friend, an' say wot you got to say plain." And he +looked full at old Jack, pointing with his finger. + +Old Jack fidgeted, wishing himself out of it. "You pay me what you owe +me," he growled sulkily. + +"As this 'ere individual, after intruding 'isself on this peaceful +meetin', ain't got anythink to say for 'isself," pursued Mr. Joe +Parsons, "I'll explain things for 'im. That's _my_ lan'lord, that is: +look at 'im! 'E comes 'angin' round my door waitin' for a chance to turn +my pore wife an' children out o' 'ouse and 'ome. 'E follers me in the +street an' tries to intimidate me. 'E comes 'ere, my feller workers, as +a spy, an' to try an' poison your minds agin me as devotes my 'ole life +to your int'rests. That's the sort o' man, that's the sort o' lan'lord +_'e_ is. But 'e's somethink more than a greedy, thievin', overfed +lan'lord, my frien's, an' I'll tell you wot. 'E's a dirty, crawlin' +blackleg; that's wot else 'e is. 'E's the on'y man as wouldn't come out +o' Maidment's; an' 'e's workin' there now, skulkin' in an' out in the +dark--a dirty rat! Now you all know very well I won't 'ave nothink to do +with any violence or intimidation. It's agin my principles, although I +know there's very often great temptation, an' it's impossible to +identify in a crowd, an' safe to be very little evidence. But this I +will say, that when a dirty low rat, not content with fattenin' on +starvin' tenants, goes an' takes the bread out o' 'is feller men's +mouths, like that bleedin' blackleg--blackleg!--blackleg!--" + +Old Jack was down. A dozen heavy boots were at work about his head and +belly. In from the edge of the crowd a woman tore her way, shedding +potatoes as she ran, and screaming; threw herself upon the man on the +ground; and shared the kicks. Over the shoulders of the kickers whirled +the buckle-end of a belt. "One for the old cow," said a voice. + + +XI. + +When a man is lying helpless on his back, with nothing in hand, he pays +nothing off a building society mortgage, because, as his wife pawns the +goods of the house, the resulting money goes for necessaries. To such a +man the society shows no useless grace: especially when the secretary +has a friend always ready to take over a forfeited house at forced sale +price. So the lease of Twenty-seven vanished, and old Jack's savings +with it. + +And one day, some months later, old Jack, supported by the missis and a +stick, took his way across the workhouse forecourt. There was a door +some twenty yards from that directly before them, and two men came out +of it, carrying a laden coffin of plain deal. + +"Look there, Jack," the missis said, as she checked her step; "what a +common caufin!" And indeed there was a distinct bulge in the bottom. + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Tales of Mean Streets, by Arthur Morrison + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40569 *** |