Life in the Red Brigade Part 7

It was at this point that he replied to Mr Sparks's knock.

"Come in, Mr Sparks, you've heard of your poor brother-in-law's accident, I suppose?"

"Yes, I've just comed from his house with a message. You're wanted to be there in good time."

"All right, I'll be up to time," said Joe, putting on his coat and cap, and smiling to his wife, as he added, "It's a queer sort o' thing to do.

We'll be blood-relations, Ned and I, after this. Look after these youngsters, Molly, else they'll knock your crockery to bits. Good-day.

Mr Sparks."

"Good-day," replied Sparks, as Joe went out. Then, turning to Mrs Dashwood, "What sort of operation is it they're goin' to perform on Ned?"

"Did you not hear? It's a very curious one. Ned has lost so much blood from a deep cut in his leg that the doctors say he can't recover, no matter how strong his const.i.tution is, unless he gits some blood put into him, so they're goin' to put some o' my Joe's blood into him."

"What!" exclaimed Sparks, "take blood out o' your husband and put it hot and livin' into Ned? No, no, I've got a pretty big swallow, but I can't git _that_ down."

"If you can't swallow it you'll have to bolt it, then, for it's a fact,"

returned Mary, with a laugh.

"But how do they mean to go about it?" asked Sparks, with an unbelieving expression of countenance.

"Well, I ain't quite sure about that," replied Mary; "they say that the doctor cuts a hole in a vein of the arms of both men, and puts a pipe, or something of that sort, into the two veins, and so lets the blood run from the one man into the other. I don't half believe it myself, to say truth; but it's quite true that they're goin' to try it on Ned. The doctor says it has bin tried before with great success, and that the main thing is to get a stout, healthy young man to take the blood from.

They thought, at first, to get a healthy youth from the country, but my Joe begged so hard to let him supply his friend and comrade, with what they wanted, that they agreed, and now he's off to have it done. Ain't it funny?"

"Funny!" exclaimed Sparks, "well, it is, just. But I'm not such a fool as to believe that they can pump the blood out o' one man into another in that fashion."

"I hope they can for poor Ned's sake," said Mary, in a sad tone, as she stirred a large pot which stood simmering on the fire.

There was a short silence after that, for Mary was thinking of the strange operation that was probably going on at that moment, and Phil Sparks was debating with himself as to the propriety of attempting to induce Mrs Dashwood to lend him a shilling or two. He could not easily make up his mind, however; not because he was ashamed to ask it, but, because he was afraid of receiving a rebuke from the pretty little woman. He knew that she and Martha Reading were intimate friends, and he had a suspicion that Mrs Dashwood was aware of Martha's fondness for him, and that she bore him no good will in consequence. Besides, although one of the sweetest tempered women in London, Mary was one whose indignation could be roused, and whose clear blue eye had something overawing in it, especially to scoundrels. He therefore sat there more than an hour, conversing on various subjects, while Mary busied herself in household matters; which she occasionally left off in order to a.s.sist in extinguishing the fire in the cupboard!

At last Sparks resolved to make the attempt, and thought he would begin by trying to propitiate Mary by commenting on her child.

"That's a pretty little girl of yours, missis," he remarked in a casual way.

"That she is," cried Mary, catching up the child and kissing her rosy face all over; "and she's better than pretty--she's good, good as gold."

"Oh 'top, ma. Let May down, kik! Fire not out yit!"

"That's right, never give in, May. Wot a jolly fireman you'd make!"

cried Fred, still directing all his energies to the cupboard.

"That's a queer sort o' helmet the boy's got on," said Sparks, alluding to a huge leathern headpiece, of a curious old-fashioned form, which was rolling about on the boy's head, being much too large for him.

"It was bought for him by my Joe, in an old curiosity shop," said Mary.

"Ha!" replied Sparks. "Well, Missis Dashwood, I'll have to be goin', though I haven't got no business to attend to--still, a man must keep movin' about, you know, specially w'en he's had no breakfast, an' han't got nothin' to buy one."

"That's a sad condition," said Mary, pursing her lips, for she knew the man.

"It is, missis. You couldn't lend me half-a-crown, could you?"

"No, I couldn't," replied the little woman with decision, while her cheeks reddened; "moreover, I wouldn't if I could. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr Sparks; it's a disgrace for a man of your strength and years to be goin' about borrowing as you're in the habit of doin'; and you have got the impudence, too, to be running after poor Martha Reading, but you shall never get her if I can prevent it."

Mr Sparks was much nettled by the first part of Mrs Dashwood's speech.

The last part put him in a towering pa.s.sion. He started up, but had the wisdom to restrain himself to some extent.

"Perhaps," he said, between his teeth, "you _can't_ prevent it, missis."

"Perhaps not, but I shall try."

At that moment, Master Fred Crashington chanced to stumble in his energetic attempts to extinguish the fire in the cupboard, which the Rosebud a.s.sured him, in excited tones, was "not out yit; gittin' wus an'

wus!" In falling, the old-fashioned helmet flew off, and the comb of it hit Mr Sparks a severe blow on the shin-bone. In the heat of the moment he dealt Fred a violent slap on the cheek, which sent him tumbling and howling on the floor. At that moment the door opened and Joe Dashwood entered.

He had heard the noise before entering, and now stood with a stern frown on his face as he gazed at his wife and her visitor.

"Did _you_ do that?" he demanded of Sparks, pointing to the little boy.

"He did, Joe," said Mary; "but--"

Joe waited for no more. He seized Mr Sparks by the nape of the neck with a grip that almost choked him--strong though he was--and thrust him out of the room, down the stairs, and out into the street, where he gave him a final kick, and shut the door.

"Oh, dear Joe!" exclaimed Mary, on his return, "you shouldn't have been so violent to 'im."

"W'y not, Molly? Surely you would not have me stand by and look on, while he insulted you and knocked down the boy?"

"No, but it would have been a better rebuke if you had ordered him off quietly. No good ever comes of violence, Joe, and he's such a spiteful, vindictive man that he will never forgive you--perhaps he'll do you a mischief if he ever gets the chance."

"I hope he will never get the chance," replied Joe. "I hope not, but I fear him," said Mary. "But tell me, Joe, how has the operation succeeded?"

"First-rate, Molly. Ned and I are blood-relations now! I don't know how much they took out o' me, but it don't signify, for I am none the worse, an' poor Ned seems much the better."

Here Joe entered into a minute detail of all that had been done--how a puncture had been made in one of the veins of his arm, and another in one of the veins of Ned's arm; and how the end of a small tube with a bulb in the middle of it had been inserted into _his_ puncture, and the other end into _Ned's_ puncture, and the blood pumped, as it were, from the full-blooded man into the injured man until it was supposed that he had had enough of it; and how Ned had already shown signs of revival while he, (Joe), didn't feel the loss at all, as was made abundantly evident by the energetic manner in which he had kicked Mr Sparks out of his house after the operation was over.

To all this Mary listened with wide open eyes, and Fred Crashington listened with wider open eyes; and little Rosebud listened with eyes and mouth equally open--not that she understood anything of it, but because the others were in that condition.

"Now, May, my pet," cried the fireman, catching up his little one and tossing her in the air, "Ned, that is so fond of you, is a blood-relation, so you may call him `uncle' next time he comes--uncle Ned!"

"Unkil Ned," lisped the Rosebud.

"And me cousin," chimed in Fred.

"Iss--cuzn," responded May.

"Just so," cried Joe, seizing Fred round the waist and tossing him on his right shoulder--Rosebud being already on his left--"come, I'll carry you down the fire-escape now; hurrah! down we go."

How long Joe would have gone on playing with the children we cannot say, for he was interrupted by the entrance of Bob and David Clazie.

"Come along, Joe," said the latter, "it's your turn to go along with us to drill."

"It's 'ard work to 'ave to go playin' at fires doorin' the day, an'