Alone in London Part 6

"Take a bowl full of water into the shop, then," answered Oliver, "and wash yourself, while I boil the egg. Dolly'll find you a bit of soap and a towel; she's learning to be grand-pa's little housekeeper, she is."

When Tony returned to the kitchen he looked a different being; the gloom was gone as well as the grime. He felt as if he had come to himself after a long and very miserable dream. Here was old Oliver again, looking at him with a kindly light in his dim eyes, and Dolly dancing about, with her pretty merry little ways; and Beppo wagging his tail in joyous welcome, as he sniffed round and round him. Even the egg was a token of forgiveness and friendliness. That terrible old woman was not his enemy, after all. He recollected what she had said he must do, and he resolved to do it for Dolly's sake, and old Oliver's. He would learn to read and write, and he would pinch himself hard to buy some better clothing, lest he should continue to be a disgrace to them; shoes he must have first of all, as those were what the sharp but friendly old woman had particularly mentioned. At any rate, he could never run away again from this home, where he was so loved and cared for.

Oliver told him how sadly Dolly had fretted after him, and watched for him at the door, hour after hour, to see him come home again. He said that in the same way, only with a far greater longing and love, his Master, the Lord Jesus Christ, was waiting for Tony to go to him. He could not half understand it, but a vague feeling of a love pa.s.sing all understanding sank deeply into his heart. He fell asleep that night under the counter with the tranquil peacefulness of one who has been tossed about in a great storm and tempest, and has been brought safely to the desired haven.

CHAPTER XIII.

NEW BOOTS.

It was several weeks before Tony could sc.r.a.pe together enough money for his new boots, though he pinched and starved himself with heroic courage and endurance. He did not mean to buy them at a shop; for he knew a place in Whitechapel where boots quite good enough for him were to be had for two or three shillings. He was neither ambitious nor fastidious; old boots patched up would do very well to start with, if he could only manage to get them before aunt Charlotte came up to town again. She had sent word she was coming the last Sat.u.r.day in January; and early in the afternoon of that day, before the train could come in from Stratford, Tony started off to the place where he intended to make his purchase.

It was a small open s.p.a.ce in one of the streets of Whitechapel, where there was an area of flags, lying off the pavement. Several traders held possession of this square, sitting on low stools, or cross-legged on the ground, with their stock in trade around them. One dealer bought and sold all kinds of old and rusty pieces of iron; another, a woman, ill clad and with red eyes, displayed before her a dingy a.s.sortment of ragged clothes, which were cheapened by other spare and red-eyed women, who held almost naked children by the hand. It was cold, and a bitter, keen east wind was searching every corner of London streets. The salesman Tony was come to deal with had a tolerable selection of old boots, very few of them pairs, some with pretty good upper-leathers, but with no soles worth speaking of; and others thickly cobbled and patched, but good enough to keep the feet dry, without presenting a very creditable appearance. For the first time in his life Tony found out the perplexity of having a choice to make. There were none which exactly fitted him; but a good fit is a luxury for richer folks than Tony, and he was not troubled about it. His chief anxiety was to look well in the eyes of Dolly's aunt, who might possibly let him see her on her way back to the station, if she approved of him; and who would not now be obliged to carry Dolly off with her, to be out of the way of his naked feet.

He fixed upon a pair at last, urged and coaxed to them by the dealer.

They were a good deal too large, and his feet slipped about in them uncomfortably; but the man a.s.sured him that was how everybody, even gentlefolks, bought them, to leave room for growing. There was an awkward, uneven patch under one of the soles, and the other heel was worn down at the side; but at least they covered his feet well. He shambled away in them slowly and toilsomely, hardly knowing how to lift one foot after another, yet full of pride in his new possessions. It was a long way home to old Oliver's alley, between Holborn and the Strand; but he was in no hurry to arrive there before they had finished and cleared away their tea; so he travelled painfully in that direction, stopping now and then to regale himself at the attractive windows of tripe and cow-heel shops. He watched the lamplighters kindling the lamps, and the shopkeepers lighting up their gas; and then he heard the great solemn clock of St. Paul's strike six. Tea would be quite over now, and Tony turned down a narrow back street, which would prove a nearer way home than the thronged thoroughfares, and set off to run as fast as he could in his awkward and unaccustomed boots.

It was not long before he came to a sudden and sharp fall off the kerb-stone, as he trod upon a bit of orange-peel, and slipped upon it. He felt stunned for a few seconds, and sat still rubbing his forehead. These back streets were very quiet, for the buildings were mostly offices and warehouses, and most of them were already closed for the night. He lifted himself up at length, and set his foot upon the flags; but a shrill cry of pain broke from his lips, and rang loudly through the quiet street. He fell back upon the pavement, quivering and trembling, with a chilly moisture breaking out upon his skin. What hurt had been done to him? How was it that he could not bear to walk? He took off his new boots, and tried once more, but with no better success. He could not endure the agony of standing or moving.

Yet he must move; he must get up and walk. If he did not go home, they would think he had run away again, for fear of meeting Dolly's aunt. At that thought he set off to crawl homewards upon his hands and knees, with suppressed groans, as his foot trailed uselessly along the ground. Yet he knew he could not advance very far in this manner. What if he should have to lie all night upon the hard paving-stones! for he could not remember ever having seen a policeman in these back streets; and there did not seem to be anybody else likely to pa.s.s that way. It was freezing fast, now the sun was gone down, and his hands sc.r.a.ped up the frosty mud as he dragged himself along. If he stayed out all night, he must die of cold and pain before morning.

But if that was true which old Oliver said so often, that the Lord Jesus Christ loved him, and that he was always with those whom he loved, then he was not alone and helpless even here, in the deserted street, with the ice and darkness of a winter's night about him. Oh! if he could but feel the hand of Christ touching him, or hear the lowest whisper of his voice, or catch the dimmest sight of his face! Perhaps it was he who was helping him to crawl towards the stir and light of a more frequented street, which he could see afar off, though the pain he felt made him giddy and sick. It became too much for him at last, however, and he drew himself into the shelter of a warehouse door, and crouched down in a corner, crying, with clasped hands, and sobbing voice, "Oh! Lord Jesus Christ!

Lord Jesus Christ!"

After uttering this cry Tony lay there for some minutes, his eyes growing glazed and his ears dull, when a footstep came briskly up the street, and some one, whom he could not now see for the strange dimness of his sight, stopped opposite to him, and then stooped to touch him on the arm.

"Why," said a voice he seemed to know, "you're my young friend of the crossing,--my little fourpenny-bit, I call you. What brings you sitting here this cold night?"

"I've fell down and hurt myself," answered Tony, faintly.

"Where?" asked the stranger.

"My leg," he answered.

The gentleman stooped down yet lower, and pa.s.sed his hand gently along Tony's leg till he came to the place where his touch gave him the most acute pain.

"Broken!" he said to himself. "My boy, where's your home?"

"I haven't got any right home," answered Tony, more faintly than before.

He felt a strange numbness creeping over him, and his lips were too parched and his tongue too heavy for speaking. The gentleman took off his own great-coat and wrapped it well about him, placing him at the same time in a more comfortable position. Then he ran quickly to the nearest street, hailed the first cab, and drove back to where Tony was lying.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TONY'S ACCIDENT.]

CHAPTER XIV.

IN HOSPITAL.

The pain Tony was suffering kept him partially conscious of what was happening to him. He knew that he was carried gently into a large hall, and that two or three persons came to look at him, to whom his new friend spoke in eager and rapid tones.

"I know you do not take in accidents," he said; "but what could I do with the little fellow? He told me he had no home, and that was all he could say. You have two or three cots empty; and I'll double my subscription if it's necessary, rather than take him away. Come, doctor, you'll admit my patient?"

"I don't think I could send him away, Mr. Ross," answered another hearty voice. "We must get him into bed as soon as possible."

Tony felt himself carried up stairs into a large room, where there were a number of small beds, with a pale little face lying on every pillow.

There was a vacant cot at the end, and he was laid upon it, after having his tattered clothes taken off him. His new boots were gone altogether, having been left behind on the steps of the warehouse. His hands and knees, bruised with crawling along the frosty stones, were gently bathed with a soft sponge and warm water. He was surrounded by kind faces, looking pitifully down upon him, and the gentleman who had brought him there spoke to him in a very pleasant and cheering voice.

"My boy," he said, "you have broken your leg in your fall; but the doctor here, who is a great friend of mine, is going to mend it for you. It will give you a good deal of pain for a few minutes; but you'll bear it like a man, I know."

"Yes," murmured Tony; "but will you let me go as soon as it's done?"

"You could not do that," answered Mr. Ross, smiling. "It will be some weeks before you will be well enough to go; but you will be very happy here, I promise you."

"Oh! but I must go!" cried Tony, starting up, but falling back again with a groan. "There's Dolly and Mr. Oliver,--they'll think I've run away again, and I were trying all I could to get back to 'em. She'll be watching for me, and she'll fret ever so. Oh! Dolly, Dolly!"

He spoke in a tone of so much grief, that the smile quite pa.s.sed away from the face of Mr. Ross, and he laid his hand upon his, and answered him very earnestly:

"If you will tell me where they live," he said, "I will go at once and let them know all about your accident; and they shall come to see you to-morrow if you are well enough to see them."

Tony gave him very minute and urgent directions where to find old Oliver's shop; and then he resigned himself, with the patience and fort.i.tude of most of the little sufferers in that hospital, to the necessary pain he had to bear.

It was Sunday afternoon when old Oliver and Dolly entered the hall of the Children's Hospital and inquired for Tony. There was something about the old man's look of age and the little child's sweet face which found them favour, even in a place where everybody was received with kindness. A nurse, who met them slowly climbing the broad staircase, turned back with them, taking Dolly's hand in hers, and led them up to the room where they would find Tony. There were many windows in it, and the sunshine, which never shone into their own home, was lighting it up gaily. The cots were all covered with white counterpanes, and most of the little patients, who had been asleep the night before, were now awake, and sitting up in bed, with little tables before them, which they could slide up and down as they wished along the sides of their cots. There was no sign of medicine, and nothing painful to see, except the wan faces of the children themselves. But Oliver and Dolly had no eyes but for Tony, and they hurried on to the corner where he was lying. His face was very white, and his eyelids were closed, and his lips drawn in as if he were still in pain. But at the very gentle and almost frightened touch of Dolly's fingers his eyes opened quickly, and then how his face changed!

It looked as if all the sunshine in the room had centred upon it, and his voice shook with gladness.

"Dolly hasn't had to fret for Tony this time," he said.

"But Dolly will fret till Tony gets well again," she answered, clasping both her small hands round his.

"No, no!" said old Oliver; "Dolly's going to be a very good girl, and help grand-pa to mind shop till Tony comes home again."

This promise of promotion partly satisfied Dolly, and she sat still upon Oliver's knee beside Tony's cot, where his eyes could rest with contentment and pleasure upon them both, though the nurse would not let them talk much. When they went away she took them through the girls'

wards in the story below; for the girls were more sumptuously lodged than the boys. These rooms were very lofty, with windows reaching to the cornice of the ceiling, and with grand marble chimney-pieces about the fireplaces; for in former times, the nurse told them, this had been a gentleman's mansion, where gay parties and a.s.semblies had been held; but never had there been such a party and a.s.sembly as the one now in it.

Old Oliver walked down between the rows of cots, with his little love clinging shyly to his hand, smiling tenderly upon each poor little face turned to look at them. Some of the children smiled back to him, and nodded cheerfully to Dolly, lifting up their dolls for her to see, and calling to her to listen to the pretty tunes their musical boxes were playing. But others lay quietly upon their pillows half asleep, with beautiful pictures hanging over their feeble heads,--pictures of Christ carrying a lamb in his arms; and again, of Christ with a little child upon his knee; and again, of Christ holding the hand of the young girl who seemed dead, but whose ear heard his voice saying "Arise!" and she came to life again in her father's and mother's house. The tears stood in old Oliver's eyes, and his white head trembled a great deal before he had seen all, and given one of his tender glances to each child.

"I wonder whatever the Lord 'ud have said," he exclaimed, "if there'd been such a place as this in his days! He'd have come here very often. He does come, I know, and walks to and fro here of nights when the little ones are asleep, or may be awake through pain, and he blesses every one of them. Ah, bless them! Bless the little children, and the good folks who keep a place like this. Bless them everyone!"

He felt reluctant to go away; but his time was gone, and the nurse was needed elsewhere. She kissed Dolly before she went, putting a biscuit in her hand, and told Oliver the house was open every Sunday afternoon for the friends of the children, if he chose to come again; and then they walked home with slow, short footsteps, and all the Sunday evening they talked together of the beautiful place they had seen, and how happy Tony would be in the Children's Hospital.