Wot does she mean by knockin of im down? asked a small butchers boy, who had come on the scene just too late, of a small bakers boy who had, happily, been there from the beginning.
She means wot she says, replied the small bakers boy with the dignified reticence of superior knowledge, she knocked the constable down.
Wot! a leetle gurl knock a six-foot bobby down?walk-er!
Very good; youve no call to blieve it unless you like, replied the bakers boy, with a look of pity at the unbelieving butcher, but she did it, thoughan thats six month with ard labour, if it aint five year.
At this point the crowd opened up to let a maniac enter. He was breathless, hatless, moist, and frantic.
My child! my darling! my dear Di! he gasped.
Papa! responded Diana, with a little scream, and, leaping into his arms, grasped him in a genuine hug.
Oh! I say, whispered the small butcher, its a melly-drammyall for nuffin!
My! responded the small baker, with a solemn look, wont the Lord left-tenant be down on em for play-actin without a licence, just!
Is the pony killed? inquired Sir Richard, recovering himself.
Not in the least, sir. Ere e is, sir; all alive an kickin, answered the small butcher, delighted to have the chance of making himself offensively useful, but the hinsurance offices wouldnt ave the close-baskit at no price. Shall I order up the remains of your carriage, sir?
Oh! Im so glad hes not dead, said Diana, looking hastily up, but this policeman was nearly killed, and I did it! He saved my life, papa.
A chorus of voices here explained to Sir Richard how Number 666 had come up in the nick of time to receive the flying child upon his bosom.
I am deeply grateful to you, said the knight, turning to the constable, and extending his hand, which the latter shook modestly while disclaiming any merit for having merely performed his dutyhe might say, involuntarily.
Will you come to my house? said Sir Richard. Here is my card. I should like to see you again, and pray, see that some one looks after my pony and
And the remains, suggested the small butcher, seeing that Sir Richard hesitated.
Be so good as to call a cab, said Sir Richard in a general way to any one who chose to obey.
Here you are, sir! cried a peculiarly sharp cabby, who, correctly judging from the state of affairs that his services would be required, had drawn near to bide his time.
Sir Richard and his little daughter got in and were driven home, leaving Number 666 to look after the pony and the remains.
Thus curiously were introduced to each other some of the characters in our tale.
Chapter Two.
The Irresistible Power of Love
Need we remark that there was a great deal of embracing on the part of Di and her nurse when the former returned home? The child was an affectionate creature as well as passionate. The nurse, Mrs Screwbury, was also affectionate without being passionate. Poor Diana had never known a mothers love or care; but good, steady, stout Mrs Screwbury did what in her lay to fill the place of mother.
Sir Richard filled the place of father pretty much as a lamp-post might have done had it owned a child. He illuminated her to some extentexplained things in general, stiffly, and shed a feeble ray around himself; but his light did not extend far. He was proud of her, however, and very fond of herwhen good. When not good, he wasor rather had beenin the habit of dismissing her to the nursery.
Nevertheless, the child exercised very considerable and ever-increasing influence over her father; for, although stiff, the knight was by no means destitute of natural affection, and sometimes observed, with moist eyes, strong traces of resemblance to his lost wife in the beautiful child. Indeed, as years advanced, he became a more and more obedient father, and was obviously on the high road to abject slavery.
Papa, said Di, while they were at luncheon that day, not long after the accident, I am so sorry for that poor policeman. It seems such a dreadful thing to have actually jumped upon him! and oh! you should have heard his poor head hit the pavement, and seen his pretty helmet go spinning along like a boys top, ever so far. I wonder it didnt kill him. Im so sorry.
Di emphasised her sorrow by laughing, for she had a keen sense of the ludicrous, and the memory of the spinning helmet was strong upon her just then.
It must indeed have been an unpleasant blow, replied Sir Richard, gravely, but then, dear, you couldnt help it, you knowand I dare say he is none the worse for it now. Men like him are not easily injured. I fear we cannot say as much for the boy who was holding the pony.
Oh! I quite forgot about him, exclaimed Di; the naughty boy! he wouldnt let go the ponys reins when I bid him, but I saw he tumbled down when we set off.
Yes, he has been somewhat severely punished, I fear, for his disobedience. His leg had been broken. Is it not so, Balls?
Yes, sir, replied the butler, e as ad is
Balls got no farther, for Diana, who had been struck dumb for the moment by the news, recovered herself.
His leg broken! she exclaimed with a look of consternation; Oh! the poor, poor boy!the dear boy! and it was me did that too, as well as knocking down the poor policeman!
There is no saying to what lengths the remorseful child would have gone in the way of self-condemnation if her father had not turned her thoughts from herself by asking what had been done for the boy.
We sent im ome, sir, in a cab.
Im afraid that was a little too prompt, returned the knight thoughtfully. A broken leg requires careful treatment, I suppose. You should have had him into the house, and sent for a doctor.
Balls coughed. He was slightly chagrined to find that the violation of his own humane feelings had been needless, and that his attempt to do as he thought his master would have wished was in vain.
I thought, Sir Richard, that you didnt like the lower orders to go about the ouse more
Again little Di interrupted the butler by asking excitedly where the boys home was.
In the neighbourood of Witechapel, Miss Di.
Then, papa, we will go straight off to see him, said the child, in the tone of one whose mind is fully made up. You and I shall go togetherwont we? good papa!
That will do, Balls, you may go. No, my dear Di, I think we had better not. I will write to one of the city missionaries whom I know, and ask him to
No, but, papadear papa, we must go. The city missionary could never say how very, very sorry I am that he should have broken his leg while helping me. And then I should so like to sit by him and tell him stories, and give him his soup and gruel, and read to him. Poor, poor boy, we must go, papa, wont you?
Not to-day, dear. It is impossible to go to-day. There, now, dont begin to cry. Perhapsperhaps to-morrowbut think, my love; you have no idea how dirtyhow very nastythe places are in which our lower orders live.
Oh! yes I have, said Di eagerly. Havent I seen our nursery on cleaning days?
A faint flicker of a smile passed over the knights countenance.