Quick! I shouted, huskily. And we tore the bricks away till there was hardly a scrap left, and we stood staring at one another.
Why, she aint here, arter all! says a policeman.
Im blest, says another.
But I couldnt speak, for I did not know what to do; but stood staring about as if I expected next to see the little darling come running up again unhurt.
Try there, says the sergeant.
Then he turned on his light in a dark corner, where the bits of wood lay, and I darted across and threw back two or three pieces, when I gave a cry, and fell on my knees again. For there was no mistake this time: I had uncovered a little foot, and there was the white sock all blood-stained; and I felt a great sob rise from my breast as I stooped down and kissed the little red spot.
Steady, said the sergeant; and then quickly, as I knelt there, they reached over me, and lifted piece after piece away, till there, in the grey light of the morning, I was looking upon the little motionless figure, lying there with her golden hair, as I had fancied, dabbled in blood from a cut in her
little white forehead, where the blood had run, but now lay hard and dry. Covered with blood and scraps of mortar, she lay stretched out there, and I felt as if my heart would break to see the little, peaceful face almost with a smile upon it; while, as if out of respect to my feelings, the men all drew back, till I knelt there alone.
And now far up in the sky the warm light of the rising sun shone, and it was reflected down upon that tiny face, and as I knelt there in the still silence of that early morn I could hear again and again a half-stifled sob from those looking on.
With trembling hands I leaned forward and gently raised her head; then, passing one beneath her, I rose on my knee to bear her out, when I stopped as if turned to stone, then left go, and clasped both my raw and bleeding hands to my blackened forehead, as shrieking out My God, shes alive! I fell back insensible; for those little blue eyes had opened at my touch, and a voice, whispered the one word
Father!
Thats her, sir. Fine girl shes grown, aint she? but she was beautiful as a child. Hair ever so many shades lighter; and, unless you went close up, you couldnt see the mark of that cut, though it was some time before the scar gave over looking red.
But really, you know, sir, there ought to be something done about these bilers; for the rate at which theyre a-bustins fearful.
Chapter Twelve. My Patient the Captain
Look ye here, doctor, hed say, I like you, and its a pleasure to be ill that it is, so as to have you to talk to.
I believe that any good return would have done as well but I did not say so, and we remained the best of friends.
I called upon him one day at his cottage where he very comfortably enjoyed the snug winter of his days, and found him so excited over a newspaper that he forgot all about his asthma, and could only answer my questions with others.
Have you seen about this Regents Park accident? he exclaimed.
Yes, I replied, I read it all yesterday morning. Terrible affair.
Awful, only it might have been so much worse. There sit down, doctor. You know I used to have a canal boat monkey boat we called em, because they are so long and thin.
Yes, I know it, I said.
Ah, and Ive had a load of powder scores o times both in monkey boats and lighters on the Thames. You aint in a hurry to-day, doctor?
Not particularly, I said.
Thats good, said the old fellow. Asthmas better. Look here, doctor, I might have been blown up just as those poor chaps was at any time, and I nearly was once.
What, blown up by powder!
To be sure I was. Look here, I take my long clay pipe off the table so; I pulls the lead tobacco box towards me so; I fills my pipe-bowl so; and then I pulls open this neat little box, made like somebodys first idea of a chest of drawers, takes out one of these little splints of wood, rubs it on the table, no good on the floor, no good on the sole of my boot, no good; but when I gives it a snap on the side of a box fizz, theres a bright little light, the wood burns, and I am holding it to the bowl of my pipe, drawing in the smoke and puffing it out again, looking at you pleasantly through the thin blue cloud, and how are you?
Times is altered since I was a lad, I can tell you. Why, as you know, that there match wouldnt light not nowhere but on the box, so as to be safe and keep children from playing with em and burning themselves, or people treading on em and setting fire to places; and what Ive got to say is this, that its a precious great convenience so long as youve got the box with you and a strange sight different to what it was when I was a boy.
Now Ill just tell you how it was then, whether you know or whether you dont know. Lor bless you, Ive seen my old aunt do it lots o times. There used to be a round, flat tin box, not quite so big as the top of your hat; and the lid on it used to be made into a candlestick, with a socket to hold a dip. Then into this box they used to stuff a lot of old cotton rag, and set light to it burn it till it was all black, and the little sparkles was all a-running about in it, same as youve seen em chasing one another in a bit o burnt paper. Down upon it would come a piece o flat tin and smother all the sparkles out, cos no air could get to em; and then theyd