A Little World Part 21

"There! never mind," said Richard. "Go and tell her Mr Norwood is here."

"Mr Norwood?" said the girl.

"Yes, Mr Norwood," exclaimed Richard, angrily; and the girl disappeared, Richard employing himself the while in peering furtively about for observers.

He had turned his back to the area, and was wondering whether the potman, coming down the street, with what appeared to be a gigantic bunch of pewter grapes upon his back, was intent upon his own affairs or watching him, when he started, for a shrill "I say!" ascended from the area, and looking round, he found the diminutive maid presenting him with his card, which was stuck amongst the hairs of a long broom, whose handle enabled the child to elevate the piece of pasteboard to within its owner's reach.

"I thought I could do it," said the girl, laughing.

"Go--and--tell--your--mistress--Mister--Norwood--wants--her," hissed Richard Pellet, savagely; as, with one action, he seized the card, and shook his fist at the girl.

"Hadn't you better call again," said the imp, "and leave the paper? She never pays fust time, and you ain't been before."

"Go--and--"

Richard Pellet got no further; for, alarmed at his fierce tones, his auditor vanished as he began; there was a scuffle and a banging door, and he was left alone, pending the delivery of his message.

Another five minutes elapsed, when the door-chain was taken down, the key laboriously turned, and Richard Pellet was admitted by the dirty-faced girl, and shown into the parlour, where, staring the whole time, the child polished a chair for him with her ap.r.o.n, her nose upon her arm; and then, wondering why the black-coated important visitor had no rate-books sticking out of his pocket, she announced that "Missus"

would be down directly.

Fuming and frowning, Richard Pellet seated himself upon the rubbed chair; but only to bound from it at the end of a minute, in a state of nervous perturbation, caused by some urchin suddenly and furiously rattling his hoop-stick along the area railings. But Richard Pellet was somewhat unstrung; he had been drinking during the night of wakefulness more than was good for him, to allay the annoyance and hara.s.s to which he had been subjected, and now the potent spirit was reminding him of the transgression.

But as he once more seated himself, he determined, upon one thing, and that was, should he obtain a clue by whose means he could trace and overtake Ellen, he would not leave her again until he had seen her safely back with Mrs Walls.

"I'll make all fast, so that I shall know that she is safely at home for at least two years; for once there again, I know she will be tame and quiet as--Curse her, though! why did she play me such a trick as this?

She must be after the child. I wish it was--"

Richard Pellet did not finish his sentence, but started up, and stood staring at the figure which now entered the room.

"Why--why"--he stammered; "I thought you had gone off."

"Gone!" said Ellen, with a weary smile,--"gone! no, no; I only went to see her little face once more, and she was not there. You had taken her away, and I came back, Richard, for I knew you would be angry; and I said that perhaps you would forgive me, and let me see her again, and tell me where she is. Only once, Richard! only once--just for a minute!" and the clasped hands went up towards him once more in supplication.

But a worldly feeling was strong upon Richard Pellet; in that hour his spirits rose, and he felt elate, for the danger was past, and knowing full well this woman's truthful candid nature, he knew that it was as she said. She had been to the house, and then returned; and there was no exposure now--nothing to fear, and his heart grew hard as flint as he sneeringly said--

"You are confoundedly obedient all at once," and then, with a half laugh, "why didn't you stay away altogether?"

"Obedient, Richard!" she sobbed; "was I not always your slave? did I not always do as you wished? and now, but this one little request--this one prayer--"

She paused, for her gaoler entered the room.

"Ho!" said the woman, "you know all about it by this time, I suppose. I found her back again when I got home. Perhaps you'd better"--Here she whispered.

Richard Pellet's hand went reluctantly into his pocket, for though he was generosity's self with his money when he could see returning interest--or at least show--in other matters, he grudged every s.h.i.+lling he spent; but the woman's demand was satisfied, and she left the room, taking with her Ellen, while upon her return in a few minutes without her charge, fresh arrangements were made, and the bars of Ellen Herrisey's prison grew closer than ever.

Volume 1, Chapter XXIX.

NURSE OR DOCTOR.

"You ought to have been a woman, Mr Ruggles," said Mrs Jared, one Sunday, when Tim came to see them after church, bringing with him little Pine. "He had taken her for a treat," he said, "to hear Mr Pellet play the organ;" and now, having accepted Mrs Jared's pressing invitation to dinner, he had been explaining to that lady the various plans he had adopted for keeping the child warm, for Mrs Jared had been taking quite a motherly interest in the gentle little thing, and recommending flannels and wrapping.

But Tim had forestalled her, as he triumphantly showed, for there was flannel in various forms, neatly st.i.tched and adapted. The little jacket the child wore was built by Tim, and in various ways he displayed how thoroughly he loved his charge.

Sundays were glorious days for Tim and little Pine, since Mrs Ruggles would spend so much of her time at St Runwald's. Sometimes Tim would take the child to church, and sit as close to the organ as possible, that Pine might catch a glimpse of Jared through the curtains, and listen to the strains he made the grand old instrument pour forth; for Jared kept to the old fas.h.i.+on of playing a symphony between each verse of psalm or hymn, at times, too, forgetting himself and lengthening out his extempore sc.r.a.ps to a strange extent. But vicar and congregation murmured not; Mr Timson was the only objector, and when he found fault, Jared always apologised so pleasantly, that the most rigid of churchwardens ought to have been satisfied, though Mr Timson was not, for he would say to the vicar, "Why, he'll forget all about it by next Sunday;" and Mr Timson was quite right.

But little Pine used to say it made her think, and would lay her head against the boards, and close her eyes as though in rapt attention.

"It makes me think about her," she would whisper to Tim, if he rose to go before Jared had finished his voluntary; and then Tim would look mournful, as he reseated himself, and took hold of the little wasted hand raised to make him stay.

And then what walks they would have--those two--now to Regent's, now to St James's Park--walks of toil for Tim, whose heart would sink as he found the child less and less able to bear the exertion; stopping occasionally to rest, or looking pitifully up in his face to say--"Don't walk so fast, please." I wonder how many miles Tim would carry that child upon a fine Sunday? Day of rest! It was a day of hard labour for Tim; but it was a labour of love. If the day were cold, he would trudge along merrily; while, if it were warm, he would still go on, his face s.h.i.+ning with pleasure, and the perspiration standing in beads amongst the wrinkles. "If we could only manage a kerridge," he had said once; but little Pine flinched from the idea.

"It would look so childish for me to ride in one," she said, wearily, and Tim gazed wonderingly at the strange old look upon the child's face, as she pa.s.sed a finger across her forehead and temples to smooth back the stray hairs, now on this side, now on the other, where they lay lightly on the broad blue-veined expanse.

One of Tim's favourite spots was the lodge in Hyde Park, where curds and whey were sold; but the little invalid did not seem to care much for the treat, as Tim called it, but she used to sit, spoon in hand, and sip and sip, looking longingly the while at the flowers.

It must have been on account of this love that little Pine showed for flowers that Tim braved Mrs Ruggles's displeasure by becoming terribly enamoured of them himself, buying pots of musk and geraniums, and little rose trees, which all brought a light into the child's eye, though in that close room in Carnaby Street the plants soon lost their bloom, fading day by day, now dropping a blossom, now a leaf, in spite of such fresh air as could be obtained, watering, and placing them in the sun so long as it shone on the back-room windows.

"They wants more fresher air," Tim would say; and then, as he threaded his needle, he would look across the room at little Pine, and sigh softly to himself as he thought of how she too seemed to want fresher air, such as he could only give her once a week, while, if it happened to be a wet Sunday, though he would willingly have staggered along, carrying the child, with an umbrella held over her, he dared not take her into the damp air, but sat at home to tell her wondrous stories of the good old times, or read her what he considered to be entertaining and instructive sc.r.a.ps from _The Weekly Despatch_. Some people might have considered his selections unsuitable; but they proved beneficial to the child, for they invariably sent her to sleep.

Poor Tim anxiously watched and trimmed that little lamp of life, whose flame wavered so whenever the cold easterly winds blew down the streets or drove the choking smoke back into the room. Oil, oil, oil, and more oil, and more oil, and then for a while the flame would brighten, and so would Tim, and chuckle and rub his hands, and st.i.tch on night and day as if trying to do without sleep. No mornings were too dark or too cold for Tim, who could wake to five minutes, at three, four, or five o'clock in the dark; and there he would be with open waistcoat, cross-legged upon his board, gla.s.ses mounted and lamp shaded, st.i.tch--st.i.tch--st.i.tch, hour after hour, to make up for the time lost with little Pine.

How he reckoned minutes and hours between times, so that the medicine should be administered to the moment--an observance which he held to be absolutely necessary to ensure efficacy; and more than once he was almost in agony for fear that Mrs Ruggles should have administered a couple of doses too closely together. Never did doctor have nurse so exact in carrying out his instructions, and, could attention have ensured it, little Pine would soon have grown strong.

But it was not to be; the little eyes grew brighter, and the fragile form more thin day by day; day by day a weary listlessness crept over the child, while, as if compa.s.sionating her sufferings, Nature was kind, and continued to soothe her often with a gentle loving sleep.

More oil, and more again, and then a flicker and a leap up of the flame that had for days been sinking slowly. But the flashes, though bright, were evanescent, and he who trimmed so diligently oft felt his heart to sink.

But Tim's despondency never lasted long. "She'll be better soon as the wind changes," he would say; but the wind changed, and still Pine sank.

"Oil's not so strong as the last," then Tim would say; and the next time the stock grew low he would trot off to a fresh chemist's, whose medicament would have no better effect than the last. So poor Tim would try, in his anxiety, another and another, until he had put every chemist within range under contribution, but with no more satisfactory result.

"I'm sure it ain't so strong," he would exclaim half-a-dozen times a day; and then he would bring out his own stock from under a little pile of cloth shreds, remove the cork, and apply the bottle-neck first to one and then to the other nostril, shaking his head afterwards in a most learned manner, and vowing that it was the most cruel thing he knew to adulterate a medicine.

Tim would even go so far as to feel the child's pulse after the fas.h.i.+on of the dispensary doctor, when, having no watch, he would attentively gaze the while at the swinging pendulum of the old Dutch clock. And though it is extremely doubtful whether he could tell any difference in the regularity of the beats, yet he always seemed to derive a great deal of satisfaction from the proceeding.

But little Pine seldom complained, and then only softly to Tim, as she crept to him for comfort. She never hesitated to take from his hands her nauseous medicine, and day after day Tim carefully, anxiously trimmed the little lamp, which, in spite of all his care, burned lower and lower, flickering in the socket, until such time as a harsher blast than usual should beat it out.

END OF VOLUME ONE.

Volume 2, Chapter I.

THE POOR-BOXES.

Mrs Ruggles thought that it was her place, and said so; but Mr Purkis was of opinion that it was his place, and he said so--bringing forward, too, the fact that he had looked after them ever since the new ones had been placed inside the north and south doors. And, in spite of Mrs Ruggles' opposition, the beadle still continued to polish the quaint imitation antique steel hinges and claspings of the two little oak poor-boxes, while, to his great annoyance, Mrs Ruggles used to go and rub them over again.

Very proud was Mr Purkis of those boxes and their meandering steel-work and corners, of which there was so much that but little of the wood was left visible; and nearly all that was covered by the guards round the keyhole and slit through which the charitably-disposed of the congregation were in the habit of dropping their contributions.

"You see the place is so damp, sir," Mr Purkis said to Jared; "and it's not in my const.i.tooshun to let a woman like that Mrs Ruggles go about and grin like a dog in the city, and sneer because there's a speck on the ornyments, and then pretend that she's so ashamed of their state that she's obliged to polish them up herself. But they're a mortal trouble to keep bright--they're as hard to keep bright as a man's conscience, sir; they tarnish like gold lace, although I've tried everything I know of, beginning with sand-paper, sir, and going down to Bath bricks and emery powder. Do you know, sir," he said, mysteriously, "it goes agen me to speak of her, she being, as it were, one of us; but, sir, it's my belief as she damps and moistens the steel on the sly, or spits upon them, o' purpose to aggravate my spirit and make the things rust. In fack, I caught her agen one, about a week ago. Every respect to you, sir, but I wish now as Mrs Purkis had took the post, sir; for Mrs Ruggles makes herself very okkard, and altogether she's a woman as Mrs Purkis don't like, and I can a.s.sure you as a fack that when my missus takes a dislike to any one, that person ain't worth much.