Constable, said he, cocking his hat to one side the better to scratch his bald head, there are strange people in this region.
Indeed there are, sir.
Yes, but I mean very strange people.
Well, sir, if you insist on it, I wont deny that some of them are very strange.
Yes, wellgood-night, constable, said Mr Twitter, moving slowly forward in a mystified state of mind, while the guardian of the night continued his rounds, thinking to himself that he had just parted from one of the very strangest of the people.
Suddenly Samuel Twitter came to a full stop, for there lay the small baby gazing at him with its solemn eyes, apparently quite indifferent to the hardness and coldness of its bed of stone.
Abandoned! gasped the burly little man.
Whether Mr Twitter referred to the infants moral character, or to its being shamefully forsaken, we cannot now prove, but he instantly caught the bundle in his arms and gazed at it. Possibly his gaze may have been too intense, for the mild little creature opened a small mouth that bore no proportion whatever to the eyes, and attempted to cry, but the attempt was a failure. It had not strength to cry.
The burly little mans soul was touched to the centre by the sight. He kissed the babys forehead, pressed it to his ample breast, and hurried away. If he had taken time to think he might have gone to a police-office, or a night refuge, or some such haven of rest for the weary, but when Twitters feelings were touched he became a man of impulse. He did not take time to thinkexcept to the extent that, on reaching the main thoroughfare, he hailed a cab and was driven home.
The poor mother had followed him with the intention of seeing him home. Of course the cab put an end to that. She felt comparatively easy, however, knowing, as she did, that her child was in the keeping of Twitter, Slime and . That was quite enough to enable her to trace Mr Twitter out. Comforting herself as well as she could with this reflection, she sat down in a dark corner on a cold door-step, and, covering her face with both hands, wept as though her heart would break.
Gradually her sobs subsided, and, rising, she hurried away, shivering with cold, for her thin cotton dress was a poor protection against the night chills, and her ragged shawl wasgone with the baby.
In a few minutes she reached a part of the Whitechapel district where some of the deepest poverty and wretchedness in London is to be found. Turning into a labyrinth of small streets and alleys, she paused in the neighbourhood of the court in which was her homeif such it could be called.
Is it worth while going back to him? she muttered. He nearly killed baby, and it wouldnt take much to make him kill me. And oh! he was so differentonce!
While she stood irresolute, the man of whom she spoke chanced to turn the corner, and ran against her, somewhat roughly.
Hallo! is that you? he demanded, in tones that told too clearly where he had been spending the night.
Yes, Ned, its me. I was just thinking about going home.
Home, indeedstime to bgoin home. Wherev you bin? The babby ll v bin squallin pretty stiff by this time.
No fear of baby now, returned the wife almost defiantly; its gone.
Gone! almost shouted the husband. You havent murdered it, have you?
No, but Ive put it in safe keeping, where you cant get at it, and, now I know that, I dont care what you do to me.
Ha! well see about that. Come along.
He seized the woman by the arm and hurried her towards their dwelling.
It was little better than a cellar, the door being reached by a descent of five or six much-worn steps. To the surprise of the couple the door, which was usually shut at that hour, stood partly open, and a bright light shone within.
Wastin coal and candle, growled the man with an angry oath, as he approached.
Hetty didnt use to be so extravagant, remarked the woman, in some surprise.
As she spoke the door was flung wide open, and an overgrown but very handsome girl peered out.
Oh! father, I thought it was your voice, she said. Mother, is that you? Come in, quick. Heres Bobby brought home in a cab with a broken leg.
On hearing this the mans voice softened, and, entering the room, he went up to a heap of straw in one corner whereon our little friend Bobby Frogthe street-Arablay.
Hallo! Bobby, wots wrong with ee? You aint used to come to grief, said the father, laying his hand on the boys shoulder, and giving him a rough shake.
Things oftentimes are not what they seem. The shake was the mans mode of expressing sympathy, for he was fond of his son, regarding him, with some reason, as a most hopeful pupil in the ways of wickedness.
Its o no use, father, said the boy, drawing his breath quickly and knitting his brows, you cant stir me up with a long pole now. Im past that.
What! have ee bin runned over?
Noony run down, or knocked down.
Who did it? Ony give me his name an address, an as sure as my names Ned Ill
He finished the sentence with a sufficiently expressive scowl and clenching of a huge fist, which had many a time done great execution in the prize ring.
It wasnt a he, father, it was a she.
Well, no matter, if I ony had my fingers on her windpipe Id squeeze it summat.
If you did Id bang your nose! She didnt go for to do it a-purpose, you old grampus, retorted Bobby, intending the remark to be taken as a gentle yet affectionate reproof. A doctors bin an set my leg, continued the boy, an made it as stiff as a poker wi what e calls splints. He says I wont be able to go about for ever so many weeks.
An whos to feed you, I wonder, doorin them weeks? An who sent for the doctor? Was it him as supplied the fire an candle to-night?
No, father, it was me, answered Hetty, who was engaged in stirring something in a small saucepan, the loose handle of which was attached to its battered body by only one rivet; the other rivet had given way on an occasion when Ned Frog sent it flying through the doorway after his retreating wife. You see I was paid my wages to-night, so I could afford it, as well as to buy some coal and a candle, for the doctor said Bobby must be kept warm.
Afford it! exclaimed Ned, in rising wrath, how can ee say you can afford it wen I avent had enough grog to half screw me, an not a brown left. Did the doctor ask a fee?
No, father, I offered him one, but he wouldnt take it.
Ahvery good on im! I wonder them fellows has the cheek to ask fees for ony givin advice. Wy, Id give advice myself all day long at a penny an hour, an think myself well off too if I got thatbetter off than them as got the advice anyhow. What are you sittin starin at an sulkin there for?
This last remark was addressed gruffly to Mrs Frog, who, during the previous conversation, had seated herself on a low three-legged stool, and, clasping her hands over her knees, gazed at the dirty blank walls in blanker despair.
The poor woman realised the situation better than her drunken husband did. As a bird-fancier he contributed little, almost nothing, to the general fund on which this family subsisted. He was a huge, powerful fellow, and had various methods of obtaining moneysome obvious and others mysteriousbut nearly all his earnings went to the gin-palace, for Ned was a man of might, and could stand an enormous quantity of drink. Hetty, who worked, perhaps we should say slaved, for a firm which paid her one shilling a week, could not manage to find food for them all. Mrs Frog herself with her infant to care for, had found it hard work at any time to earn a few pence, and now Bobbys active little limbs were reduced to inaction, converting him into a consumer instead of a producer. In short, the glaring fact that the family expenses would be increased while the family income was diminished, stared Mrs Frog as blankly in the face as she stared at the dirty blank wall.