A Little World Part 7

"So I think, Mr Ruggles," said Mrs Jared, "and though perhaps I have no business to interfere, I cannot help saying again, that I don't at all like the way in which it is treated, poor child,--I don't think you ought to stand by and let it be beaten."

"Well, I don't know, ma'am, I don't know," said Tim, humbly. "I'm afraid to interfere, to tell you the truth; for I'm out a deal, and if I were to say much, I should only make Mrs Ruggles the little thing's enemy. Really, ma'am, I try to do what's for the best; and I don't think if I tried ever so, I should make any better of it. As I said, I almost wish sometimes that she was gone, but it always nips me afterwards; for somehow, ma'am, that child seems to be all I have to love now, and you know how children will wind themselves round you, and make a home in your heart. I hope none of yours, ma'am, may know what it is to have a step--that is," said Tim, stammering, "ever be--er-- ever--ever--suffer, you know, ma'am."

Tim Ruggles hid his confusion in his red handkerchief, as soon as he could prevail upon it to quit the depths of his pocket; after which he found out that it was quite time for him to take his departure, and hurried away.

"I can't help taking an interest in the poor little thing," said Mrs Jared, when they were alone; "but it seems a strange story."

"Very," said Jared Pellet.

Volume 1, Chapter XIII.

PATTY AMONG FRIENDS.

Brownjohn Street, Decadia, on a bright summer's morning, when improvements had not made the neighbourhood a little less dingy than of old; when the pleasant district named after, but, all the same, a perfect disgrace to, a certain patron saint, had not recovered from the vast and clean sweep to which it had been subjected.

So early in the day, there was peace. There was no fight in progress before either of the palaces famed for the dispensing of gin; the police were not binding some fierce, dishevelled, and blaspheming virago to a stretcher, and then patting their hair or whiskers in tender spots from whence locks had been ravished by the handful, previous to bearing the drunken scold to the X station, attended by a train of howling creatures, in human form, but debased by "the vitriol madness"--the poison mental and bodily sold to them by the name of "Cream of the Valley"--"of the Shadow of Death," might well have been added. The courts of the palaces were quiet as yet, and brawny-muscled bar and potmen were brightening counters, polishing plate-gla.s.s and mirrors, or burnishing bra.s.s, ready for the night, when the gas should be in full blaze. Men and women slink in and out now--coming in a dark secretive way, to partake of "pen'orths," or, as they were here facetiously termed, "coffin nails," to rouse the spirits, flagging from the effects of the previous night's debauch. Burglars and pickpockets--night-birds both--slept in their lairs, hiding from the light, and waiting in drunken sleep for the darkness that was to them their day.

But Brownjohn Street was full of life: young men and women of the Decadian type--not children, though their years varied from five to ten--span the celebrated Decadian top, or sent pointed instruments, known as "cats," darting through the air; halfpenny kites were flown with farthing b.a.l.l.s of cotton; and one select party waltzed, fancy free, around a street organ, what time a young gentleman of about twelve, who had already attained to the dignity of greased sidelocks, performed a castanet accompaniment upon two pairs of bones, and another of the same age, whose costume consisted of one rag, one pair of trousers, secured beneath the arm-pits with string, and a great deal of dirt, stood upon his head, swayed his legs about as if in cadence with the air played by the organist, and occasionally beat together the soles of his bony feet.

Altogether it was a happy party, and the Italian ground away and showed his white teeth; the children danced; and the whole scene might have been Watteau-like, but for the streets and the dirt.

Vehicles seldom pa.s.sed down Brownjohn Street; the warning "Hi!" was rarely uttered by the driver, and the children ran in and out of the burrows of the human warren, wild and free, until old enough to be trained to prey upon their fellows. But they partook more of the rat than of the rabbit in their nature, for they were small-sized, careworn street Arabs, whose names would yet become famous in the "Hue and Cry,"

or, under the head of "Police Intelligence" in the morning papers.

Dense, dismal, close, swarming, dirty, with the flags broken, and the gutters heaped up with refuse--such was Brownjohn Street; for dandies no longer escorted beauty homeward to such and such a number, in a sedan-chair, with running footmen and link-bearers to clear the way.

But, teeming with population as was Brownjohn Street, those swarms were not all of the _genus h.o.m.o_--the place upon this bright summer morning, when the sun was struggling with the mists and foul exhalations, was a perfect _rus in urbe_. The sound of the Italian's organ was drowned by the notes of birds, as lark, canary, and finch sang one against the other in glorious trills, telling of verdant mead and woodland grove, as they hung in cages by the hundred outside dingy windows high and low.

The shops were full of birds from floor to ceiling. One place had its scores of wooden cages, some eight inches square, each containing its German canary-immigrant, another window was aviary and menagerie combined; but no shop displayed so great a variety as the one bearing the name of "D. Wragg, Naturalist, Dealer in British and Foreign Birds."

Grey parrots shrieked, bantams crowed, ferrets writhed and twisted like furry snakes, rabbits thrust their noses between the bars of a parrot's cage, a pair of hedgehogs lay like p.r.i.c.kly b.a.l.l.s in the home lately vacated by a lark, and quite a dozen dogs were ranged outside over the area grating, in rabbit-hutches, to the great hindrance of the light and the washing of Mrs Winks, then being carried on in the cellar-kitchen.

There was a door to D. Wragg's shop, if you could get through it without hanging yourself in the chains, with collars attached, swinging from one post, and avoid knocking down the dragons which watched from the other side.

Not that these last were inimical monsters, for they were but dragon-pigeons, watching with an anxiety in their soft eyes which told of expected food or water.

It was different though with the dogs, since they snapped openly at trousers' legs, out of which garments, they had been known to take pieces, in spite of a general reputation for harmlessness.

The pinky c.o.c.katoos also possessed a firmness of beak that was by no means pleasant if they could manage a snip. But once past the door, and you were pretty safe amidst the wonders which met your eye: a couple of knowing-looking magpies gazing at you sideways; a jay, the business of whose life seemed to be to make two hops with the regularity of a pendulum; squirrels and white mice, which spun round their cages and fidgeted and scratched; a doleful owl blinking in a corner; a large hawk, which glared with wicked eyes from cage to cage, as if asking who would die next to make him a meal, as he stood on one leg, and smelt nasty, in another corner; squealing parroquets and twittering avadavats; bullfinches which professed to pipe, but did not; and a white hare, fast changing its hue, which did tattoo once on the side of its hutch.

And even when you had seen these, you had not seen all, for in every available or unavailable place there was something stowed, living or dead.

Love-birds cuddled up together, budgerigars whistled and scratched, while in one large wire cage, apparently quite content, about fifty rats scurried about or sat in heaps, with their long, worm-like tails hanging out in all directions from between the wires, as if they were fishing for food, and s.n.a.t.c.hed at the chance of getting a bite. One sage grey fellow sat up in a corner, in an att.i.tude evidently copied from a feline enemy, whom he imitated still further as he busied himself over his toilet, pawing and smoothing his whiskers, like an old buck of a rat as he undoubtedly was, and happily ignorant that before many hours were past he would be sold with his fellows by the dozen, and called upon to utter his last squeak while helping to display the gameness of one of the steel-trap-jawed terriers, trying so hard to strangle themselves, and making their eyeb.a.l.l.s protrude as they hung by their collars, tugging in the most insensate way at chains that would not break.

And here, amidst trill, whistle, screech, squeak, coo, snarl, and bark-- amongst birdseed, German paste, rat and mouse traps, cages, new and secondhand, besides the other wonders which helped to form D. Wragg's stock-in-trade, was Patty Pellet, whose bright, bird-like voice vied with those of the warblers around, and whose soft, plump form looked as tender, as lovable, and as innocent as that of one of the creamy doves that came to her call, perched upon her shoulder, and--oh, happy dove!-- fed from the two ruddy, bee-stung, honeyed lips, that pouted and offered a pea or a crumb of bread to the softly cooing bird, which seemed to gaze lovingly at the bright face, the brighter for the dark framing of misery, vice, and wretchedness by which it was here surrounded.

Patty was enjoying herself that morning, seeing, as she called it, to Janet's pets; for in spite of the vileness of the neighbourhood, she was often here, in consequence of her strange friendship for the adopted daughter of Monsieur Canau, who lodged on D. Wragg's first floor. The acquaintanceship had originated in the visits of the Frenchman and his ward to the house in Duplex Street in quest of violin-strings, and through similarity of tastes, had ripened into affection between the girls, in spite of something like dislike evinced at first by Jared Pellet, and something more than dislike displayed by his wife, who, however, ended by yielding, and treating in the most motherly fashion the object of Patty's regard, and of late many pleasant evenings had been spent by Canau and Janet in Jared Pellet's modest parlour, on which occasions the little house resounded with wondrous strains, until the children were so wakeful that they rose in revolt, and the instruments had to be silenced.

Patty's friend had just left her visitor and gone up-stairs in answer to a summons from Monsieur Canau, while the proprietor of all this wealth sat in his back room, a pleasant museum of stuffed departed stock-in-trade. He was smoking his pipe, and spelling over the morning's paper, taking great interest in the last garrotting case-- merely called, in those days, a violent a.s.sault--so that Patty, left alone, was enjoying herself, as was her custom, in dispensing seed, red sand, chickweed, and groundsel, and other food--with water unlimited--to the hungry many.

"Have you brought me anythink to do for you, my dovey?" said a voice, and a round red fat face appeared from somewhere, being thrust into the shop between a parrot's cage, and a bunch of woolly and mossy b.a.l.l.s, such as are supplied to young birds about to set up housekeeping.

"Nothing this morning, Mrs Winks," trilled Patty.

"Not nothink, my dovey? no collars, nor hankychys, nor cuffs? The water's bilin', and the soap and soda waitin', so don't say as you've brought nothink as I can wash."

"Nothing--nothing--nothing," laughed Patty; "but be a dear old soul, and fetch me a pail of clean water, so that I can fill the globe for Janet before she comes back."

"Of course I will, my pet; only fetch me the pail, or I shall be knocking of something down if I come any further."

Patty handed the pail as requested to Mrs Winks, correcting very mildly a spaniel that leaped up at her as she did so. She then disappeared for a few minutes, to return bearing in her little hands a large globe, in which were sailing round and round half-a-dozen goldfish, staring through the gla.s.s in a stupid contented way, as their bright scales glistened and their fat mouths opened and shut in speechless fashion.

Then, as she set the globe down upon the counter, there came a loud panting from the pa.s.sage--a heavy rustling--and the next moment it was evident that Mrs Winks had made her way to the front, for she now puffed her way in at the shop-door, bearing the well-filled pail.

"Oh, how kind!" cried Patty; "I could have taken it in at the side."

"You look fit to carry pails, now, don't you, you kitten; it's bad enough to let you come here at all," said the stout dame, smiling; and she stood, very tubby in shape, and rested her pinky, washing-crinkled hands for a moment upon her hips; then she wiped her nose upon her washed-out print ap.r.o.n; and lastly, as Patty stooped to pour the water from the globe, and replenish it with fresh, Mrs Winks softly took a step nearer, and just once gently stroked the young girl's fair glossy hair, drawing back her hand the next instant as Patty looked up and smiled.

"Ah, my dovey! why, here's Mounseer just going out for his walk!"

exclaimed Mrs Winks, as the little, shabby yellow-faced Frenchman squeezed into the shop through the side-door, his shoulders hoisted nearly to his ears, and his hands occupied the one with a cigarette, the other with a ta.s.selled cane.

"Ah! tenez then, dogs," he cried, thumping his cane upon the floor, for he had been saluted with a barking chorus. "Janet will soon be down,-- and how is my little one?"

Patty held out her hand, when, laying his cigarette upon the counter, the old man took off his hat, placed it in the same grasp that held his cane, and then, with the grace of an old courtier, kissed the little round fingers that were extended to him. Directly after, he replaced his hat, but only to raise it again in salute to Mrs Winks, who acknowledged the act of courtesy by shortening herself two inches, and then rising to her normal height and breadth.

"I was just going to say, Mounseer, that if all people were as polite as you, how easy we could get along; and that if I was like Miss Patty here, people wouldn't be so rude and queer when one goes round with the basket."

"Aha! they are rude, then, those people in the galleree?"

"Rude ain't nothing to it, Mr Canau; they makes way fast enough for the man with the porter, but when I'm coming with my basket of apples, oranges, biscuits, ginger-beer, and bills of the play, they goes on dreadful, a-sticking out their knees and grumbling, and a-hindering one to that degree, that you've no idee what a heat I'm in when I've gone down a row; and never gets half round before the curting rises again, let alone their remarks about being fat--just as if I made myself fat, which I don't; and, as I says to one hungry-looking fellow, I says, 'If I was as thin as you, I'd be a super still, and you admiring of me, instead of my having to supply people's nasty animal wants, and being abused for it.' For--I put it to you now, Mr Canau--can people do without their apples, and oranges, and things, when a play's long and heavy? and I'm sure I've helped many a noo piece to a success, when it would--Oh, if there isn't the water a-bilin' over!"

With an agility and lightness almost corklike, Mrs Winks, warned by a strong and pungent odour steaming up between the boards, hurried down below; the little Frenchman lit his cigarette, kissed his hand to Patty, and then shuffled in his well-worn and cracked Wellington boots from the shop.

Patty, quite at home, refilled her bright bowl with water, and bore it through the side-door, and then returned to continue supplying the many wants around; but only to be interrupted by a fresh comer--a barefooted, round-faced, ragged man, smoking a short black pipe, but bent almost double beneath the heavy basket he bore, one which required a great deal of manoeuvring to get it past the cages, in addition to a great many low adjurations, in a husky voice, to "come on then!" or to "get out!" But at last it was safely deposited beside the counter, when the bearer made quite an Indian salaam, bending low in salutation to the smiling girl.

"That's the werry last noo bow, Miss. I larnt that of my friend Jammesie Jeejeewo, what plays the little tom-tom drum with his fingers outside the public-houses of a night, and sings 'Fa-la-ma-sa-fa-la-ta;'

and sells scent-packets, and smiles like a n.i.g.g.e.r all day long in Oxford Street. He's own brother to the opium-eating cove as has allers got the cold shiver and freeze, and sweeps the crossin' at the Cirkis. That's it, Miss," he said, bowing again with outstretched hands. "Blame the thing! what are you up to?" he shouted, shaking and snapping his soft fingers, one of which had come in contact with the cage of a hungry parrot, and been smartly nipped.

"Well, d.i.c.k!" said Patty, kindly.

"Well, Miss, but where's Miss Janet? But, there! love and bless your pretty face, Miss, it's a treat to see you here. Why, you makes the shop full of sunshine, and the birds to sing happier than if they was far away amongst their own woods and fields. But now to business, Miss," he exclaimed, as, stooping to the basket on the floor, he brought out, piled one upon the other, a dozen freshly-cut, green, round, cheese-plate-like clover turves. "Tuff's is getting werry skeerce, Miss; and will you tell Miss Janet as they've riz another penny a dozen?

Penny a mile miss, accorden' to Act of Parlyment. Every mile I goes farther away, I puts on a penny a dozen. They won't let you cut 'em anywheres; and I got these four mile t'other side Pa'an'ton. I'm blest if there'll be a bit of country soon, or a blessed sc.r.a.p of chickweed or grunsel, or a tuff to cut anywheres. There wouldn't be no water-creases if people didn't grow 'em a purpose; and that's what I shall have to do with grunsel--have a farm and grow it by the acre. You know, Miss, the bricks and mortar frightens the green stuff; and it goes farder and farder away, till it costs me a pound a year more for shoe-leather than it did a time ago."

"Come, d.i.c.k, business," said Patty, smiling at his earnestness; "I'm mistress just now."

"To be sure, Miss--business," said d.i.c.k. "Grunsel, Miss; there you are.

Chickweed, green as green, and fresh as a daisy; plantain--there's a picter--there's fine long stalks, as full of seeds as Injin corn, and 'most as big; but blow my rags, if I don't think this here's the werry last to be got."

As he spoke, the man placed the various bunches he had enumerated upon the counter, and then looked up smiling in Patty's face as she spoke.

"Why, Janet says you tell her that story, d.i.c.k, every time you come,"