All the renters appertaining to Bennett's were either out in the court,
or at door and window, on the day that Mrs Jarker was buried; while
Lucy gladdened the heart of Jean Marais by taking charge of the little
golden-haired child and carrying it up to his room to see the birds and
dogs. Women stood in knots talking, with their arms rolled in their
aprons, and a strong smell of rum, of the kind known as "pine-apple,"
and vended at the corner, pervaded these little assemblies. The sports
of the children were interrupted, and slapping was greatly in vogue in
consequence of mothers never having known their offspring to have been
so tiresome before. Hopscotch was banished from the court, tops and
buttons confiscated, and there was not a boy or girl present who, in the
face of so much tyranny, would not have emigrated to some more
freedom-giving district, but for the fact that there was a "berryin;"
and the shabby Shillibeer hearse, and its doleful horse and red-nosed
driver, already stood at the end of the court, where the public-house
doors were so carefully strapped-back for the convenience of customers.
The time at which the funeral would take place was already well-known,
but for hours past the court had been in a state of excitement which
prevented domestic concerns from receiving due attention. It was an
observable fact that quite a large trade was done at the chandler's shop
in halfpenny bundles of wood, consequent upon fires being neglected, and
doing what fires will do, going out. Babies screamed until they were
hoarse, and then fell asleep to wake up and scream again. There were no
bones broken, on account of the elasticity of the juvenile framework;
but several children in the quadrupedal stage of development were known
to have fallen down flights of stairs during their maternal search;
while another diversion had been caused by a morsel forcing its foot
through the grating over the drain, and refusing to be extricated. It
was also observable that there were very few men about, and those
visible confined themselves to the cellar-flap of one of the
public-houses, only looking down the court at intervals.
At last there was an increased interest, for Mr Pawley and one of his
men had entered the house, women parting left and right to let them
through. Then there was a buzz of excitement, for Mr Jarker had been
seen to enter the public and come out, to stand wiping his mouth with
the back of his hand, apparently undecided as to which way he should go;
but at length, pale and scared-looking, walking up the court and
following the undertaker.
And now the Jarkers were thoroughly canvassed, and many allusions made
concerning Bill's treatment of his poor wife. Worn, dejected, hard--
featured women, whose lives had been as hard a bondage as that of the
one passed away, but who made their brick without straw unrepining, told
of her sufferings, and of how she had always been weak and sickly; while
it was on all sides allowed that though, as a matter of course, a master
might be a little hard sometimes, Jarker had been too hard, as she was
so sickly. One thought it was the drains, another fancied the place
wasn't quite healthy; but all agreed that there was nothing better to be
had at the price; while the market was _so_ handy. What was to become
of the child too, formed a surmise in which Mrs Sims took great
interest; while, as soon as that lady's back was turned, it was
universally agreed that she was "a good soul."
Another buzz of excitement. Mr Jarker has been seen to come out with a
crape scarf fastened upon his fur-cap, while a short skimpy cloak hangs
awkwardly from his ample shoulders. Mr Jarker is very low-spirited,
and finds it necessary to take something short once more in the way of a
stimulant, and imbibes half-a-quartern of gin at the public-house, his
emblems of woe inducing a great amount of respect being paid to him by
the occupants of the place, while one end of the scarf will keep getting
in his way.
Mr Jarker is a very great man this day, and comports himself with much
dignity; he feels that he is being looked up to, and that he deserves
it, but for all that he seems nervous and uncomfortable, and is now
fetched back by the undertaker, who regularly takes him into custody,
for he rightly fears that very little would make Mr Jarker run off
altogether and show himself no more for some days, when perhaps there
might be a difficulty about the payment of the expenses. Not that Mr
Pawley has much fear upon that score, for there was always a certain
pride respecting a decent "berryin" at Bennett's-rents; and supposing
any one was very much pressed, there were always friendly hands ready to
add their mites, with the understanding that one good turn deserved
another. Mr Pawley never suffered much in his transactions at the
Rents, of which place he had the monopoly; and he always made a point of
insisting that all funerals should be not only what he termed economic,
but strictly respectable.
"It's a dooty we owe to the departed," he would observe, while never
once could he recall a dissentient, though assistance was often called
in to defray the cost, and the well-known avuncular relative of the poor
appealed to. Not that Mr Pawley had very hard work to induce the poor
of the district to do their "dooty" by the departed, for the desire was
always there to pay the last sad rites decently and in order, even those
who were obliged to stoop to get an order for a parish coffin often
raising a tiny fund to induce Mr Pawley to embellish the hard outlines
of the common plain elm shell with a plate and a few rows of nails, to
take off the workhouse look of the charity they grudged to accept.
Mr Pawley managed to get Jarker safely back to the house, and then the
excitement increased, for after the former gentleman had prisoned his
client in a lodger's room he came down wiping his eye, that seemed more
moist than ever, and stood mute-like at the door, surrounded by half the
inhabitants of the court, whom he calmly informed that _they_ were
coming down directly. Mr Pawley spoke slowly and impressively, for he
was a man who had not much to say, but who made the most of it, as if
his words were gold and to be beaten out to cover the largest space at
the least possible cost. He considered his words of value, and as he
doled them out people listened eagerly, looking upon the day's
performance as something of which not the slightest item should be lost;
while Mr Pawley made much of his funerals, regarding each one as an
advertisement to procure another, as he laboured hard to impress upon
the dwellers of Bennett's-rents how friendly were his feelings towards
them, and how little he thought of the money.
"Now they're a-coming!" he whispered, motioning the people away right
and left--a very marshal of management--and then there was the shuffling
of feet, the creaking and groaning of the stairs, and the chipping of
the wall, as down flight after flight the coffin was carried, resting at
the landings, and more than once some neighbour's door was sent flying
open. Mrs Sims' was the first, as one of the bearers backed against
it, and a lodger's on the first-floor was the next; but the occupiers
were down in the court, and so escaped being disturbed.
At last, with the top covered with the powdery whitewash chipped from
wall and ceiling, the coffin stood in the passage, then in the court for
an instant, before being borne into the shabby Shillibeer hearse; while,
amidst a suppressed hum of voices, more than one genuine tear was seen
to fall, and more than one apron to be held up by those who saw the poor
woman's remains borne away. Then back came Mr Pawley on tiptoe with
his handkerchief to his eye, and disappeared in the house, from which he
soon reappeared with his prisoner, followed by two relatives; and, as
Bill Jarker was marched down to the hearse with his ill-fitting cloak,
and long crape scarf hanging from his fur-cap, he held his hands
together in a strange, peculiar way--a way that, but for the trappings
of woe, would have suggested that Mr Jarker was really in custody, and
bore steel handcuffs upon his wrists.
Then there was a crowding towards the entrance of the court to see Mr
Jarker shut in, Mr Pawley mount beside his red-nosed driver, and then
the old broken-kneed horse went bowing its head and shambling along
through the streets, with no more way made for it than if its doleful
load had been so much merchandise.
Septimus Hardon had stood at his window watching the proceedings, as he
slowly wiped again and again his pen upon a coat-tail; for the scene
brought up a sad day in Carey-street, and he could not but recall the
bright-eyed, yellow-haired child he had lost, and this set him thinking
of the little one up-stairs in Lucy's charge. But Septimus Hardon never
thought very long upon any one particular subject; and, sighing deeply,
he returned to his writing, while the people in the court slowly flocked
back to form groups and talk until such time as it was necessary to get
"master's tea." There was a considerable amount of thirst engendered
though, and the public-houses at the top and bottom of the court must
have done quite a powerful stroke, of trade that day in cream-gin and
pine-apple rum; for the dull soft bang of the strapped-back doors was
heard incessantly. For now, _a la militaire_, people's feelings seemed
to undergo a reaction; children played and hooted again unabashed; the
organ-man played the Olga waltz to a select circle of youthful dancers,
while admiring mammas looked on and smiled; a party of "nigger"
serenaders arrived at the lower public-house, and played and sang for a
full hour, the coppers rattling in the reversed banjo freely, after the
fortunes of the celebrated Old Bob Ridley had been musically rendered by
a melodious gentleman of intense blackness, who had thrummed the wires
of his instrument until his fingers were worn white. Then, too, after
the departure of the sable minstrels, a lady volunteered a song; but she
sang not, for an interdict was placed upon the proceedings by the
landlord, who "couldn't stand none o' that, now." Then an altercation
ensued, which ended in an adjournment, and the voluble declaration of
some half-dozen departing matrons that they'd have no more to do with
the goose-club.
But Mrs Sims was not there. Ten minutes after the starting of the
shabby funeral she went up to Septimus Hardon's rooms to fetch the
little girl, but had to ascend to the attic, where she found her leaning
against Lucy, who was seated upon the floor, laughing at the little
thing's delight as first one and then the other of the poodles stood up
and carried a stick in its mouth, while the dark eyes of Jean were fixed
upon the beautiful group before him, ardently though with a speechless
admiration.
With many thanks Mrs Sims bore away the tiny girl, whose sleeves Lucy
had tied up with bows of crape, and, as she accompanied the woman down
the stairs it was only by an effort that she refrained from snatching
the little one back and bearing it into her own room. But Mrs Sims
bore the prattling little thing away and seated it upon the carpet in
her lodging, when, preparing to relieve herself after so much sorrow,
she took up the bellows: but as the fire was out she only made a dust,
and, laying the pneumatic comfort aside, she took to "spazzums," which
necessitated the sending of Marry Hann, a neighbour's child, for
half-a-quartern of rum, which relieved the pain so much that she
repeated the dose more than once, and, carrying the little girl with
her, went down again for a social chat, being now insensible to pain.
Half-an-hour had not elapsed, though, before a fresh twinge induced her
to try another instalment of her "spefizzick," and now she not only
became insensible to pain but to everything else. Mr Jarker did not at
once return after the funeral, but parted with his fellow-mourners
without a word, after stopping at a public-house honoured by Mr Pawley,
and settling the expenses readily over some gin and beer, accompanied by
pipes; and, though more than one neighbour declared they saw him enter
the door quite late, and come out early next morning, it was certain
that he did not go up to his attic, a place which for some time he
shunned after dark.
Mrs Sims declared she saw nothing of him, and doubtless her testimony
was very trustworthy, for she had not the slightest recollection of what
took place that night after the last administration of the "spefizzick,"
nor of how she came into her own room till her angry husband explained.
For when in the dusk of evening Lucy returned from the warehouse with a
fresh pile of work, she found Mrs Sims seated nodding upon the doorstep
with the sleeping child in her flaccid arms, and in momentary danger of
falling upon the broken flags. So taking the little thing, Lucy bore it
to her own room; and from that time forth it often came to pass that she
crossed the court when Mr Jarker was from home, and attended to the
wants of the little neglected child.
Volume Two, Chapter XVI.