In due course Mrs. Granger received a decent burial. There was money
enough for this purpose in the burial club to which Granger subscribed;
and Bet, rather to her surprise, saw that her father did not object to
doing the thing respectably for his dead wife. She and the little boys
and Granger himself, who was quite sober and looked remarkably sulky,
attended the funeral. The short service was quickly over, and the
queer-looking band of mourners turned away. As they were leaving the
cemetery, a thick-set and ungainly man, with eyes closely set in his
head, and a hat slouched over his forehead, came up and spoke to
Granger.
"All right, Dent," said Granger.
Then he turned to his daughter.
"You know Isaac Dent, don't you, Bet? You might ha' the manners to give
him a civil word."
Bet's eyes were red and swollen, for she had been crying bitterly.
"Oh, yes, I know you, Isaac Dent," she said; "but I ain't in no mood to
talk now. Good-bye, father."
"I'll be home presently," called out Granger. "Have a bit of dinner
ready for Dent and me-we'll be looking in presently;" and Bet, taking a
small brother by each hand, walked away at a good pace.
She had not replied to her father, and there was a very dogged,
determined look on her handsome face. The two small boys chattered to
one another, looked proudly down at their boots, which had been bought
new for the occasion, and often glanced at Bet. She did not pay the
slightest heed to their shrill childish chatter. Presently she hailed a
passing tramcar, and delighted her little brothers by taking them for a
ride outside. The three got down at the nearest point to Sparrow
Street, which was the name of Bet's old address. They reached the house
and went upstairs. The one room where they had all lived for the last
couple of years looked deserted, ugly, desolate. The bed on which the
dead woman had lain was empty, the fire was out in the grate, and the
broken cups and saucers, out of which the little party had breakfasted
before they started for the funeral, stood unwashed on the deal table.
"Now, boys," said Bet, the minute she had got the two little fellows
into the room, "you ha' got to obey me. I'm your mother in future. Do
you mind?"
She had seated herself on a low chair, and drew her little brothers in
front of her. They looked at her with their impudent and bright eyes.
"The Cap'n says," began Nat, glancing in his eager, quick, bird-like
way at his brother--"the Cap'n says--"
But Bet put her hand across the eager little mouth.
"Never mind what Thady says now, Nat; we'll have plenty of time to go
into that by-and-bye. Now we have a deal to do, and very little time to
do it in. But first you two boys ha' got to give me a promise."
"Promises is like pie-crusts," said the Cap'n, drawing himself up to
his full tiny height, "I don't mind, nor do the Gen'ral there. Promises
is made to be broke."
Bet shook the little speaker impatiently.
"Look here, boys, there's no one loves you two, but me; and I do--yes,
I do--with all my heart. There, boys, don't strangle me," for they both
fell upon her, covering her face and neck and lips with childish, most
affectionate kisses.
"Hurrah for Bet! There, Bet--we'll make no pie-crust promises to you.
We'll promise, and we'll keep our words. We'd die afore we broke 'em!"
concluded the Cap'n, stamping his small newly-shod foot with great
effect on the floor.
"There's no one loves you but me," continued Bet. "Mother did, but
she's with God--that is ef--ef--oh, yes, mother's with God. He's
keeping her comfortable now, and she have forgot us all. Mother's no
good from this out; and father--you know what father is, boys. Look me
in the face--you know what father is."
It took a great deal to quench the spirit of the audacious Granger
twins, but they looked subdued now. Their thin little faces grew a
shade whiter. The two pairs of eyes gave a rapid glance towards the
door, and the little figures pressed closer to Bet as if for protection.
"You know, and so do I," she continued, putting her strong arm round
them with a most protecting gesture; "and so--and so--boys, I'm going
to take you away from father. And the only thing you ha' got to obey me
in is when I say 'hide!' you are to hide; and when I ha' to lock you
up, as I may have to do now and then, you won't play no larks on me,
nor try to get away."
"No--no!" they both vociferated eagerly. "We promise, we promise true.
Hurrah for Bet--the best gel in Liverpool!"
"That'll do; now let's pack. We must be out of this room in ten
minutes."
The three flew about, Bet putting her own small possessions and the
boys' scanty wardrobe into an old shawl of her mother's. It took far
less than ten minutes to make a bundle of the poor possessions. At the
last moment Bet went over to the bed, laid her head face downwards on
her mother's pillow, and reverently kissed the place where the dead
cold head had rested.
"That's a seal to my promise," she whispered; and then, slinging the
bundle across her shoulder, she again took the boys' hands and went
downstairs.
At the entrance to the house she met her landlord, a man of the name of
Bounce.
"Ah, my dear, and where are you off to?" he said, in his most facetious
voice.
"I am going away, Mr. Bounce," replied Bet, gravely; "you can tell my
father--he'll be in presently--as I ain't a-coming back. Neither me nor
the boys is a-coming back. Good-bye."
She did not wait for the landlord's surprised answer, but his rude
laugh floated after her down the street.
There are slums and slums in Liverpool, as elsewhere, and Sparrow
street, which Bet had left, seemed by contrast to Paradise Row, which
she presently entered, a thoroughly respectable, indeed genteel, place
of residence. Paradise Row was not very far from the river. It was
entered by a court, court of not more than twenty feet square. Under
one of the houses there was an archway, and it was only through this
archway that any one could approach Paradise Row, This charming and
most suitably-named place of residence consisted of twenty houses at
one side of the street and twenty at the other. The houses were high,
and the street between was not more than ten feet across. There were no
pathways, and no apparent drains of any sort. The houses got closer
together as they approached the sky, so that it would not be impossible
for an agile person in case of pursuit to throw a board across from his
window to the one opposite, and so effect an escape. There were not a
great many panes of glass in the windows--rags and pieces of board
taking the place of this precious commodity. It was an
evil-looking-place, and the two little boys, accustomed as they were to
a very rough life, looked at Bet in some surprise as she led them there.
"This is a rum go," whispered the general under his breath; but the
little blue-eyed captain was silent, drawing himself up very erect, and
trying to imitate his sister's stately carriage.
Presently Bet paused at a door, and went in.
"Is Mother Bunch in her room?" she asked a red-haired unkempt-looking
boy, who, with a short pipe in his mouth, was leaning against the
doorway. He did not trouble himself to remove the pipe, but pointed in
the direction of a certain door. Bet went forward, and opened it
without knocking. A very stout woman of between fifty and sixty was
standing before a wash-tub. Her arms were bare to the elbows, and
covered with suds. Her blue winsey petticoat was tucked up above her
ankles; her large feet were destitute of shoes and stockings. She had a
broad face, a snub nose, and two twinkling good-humored eyes.
Notwithstanding her dirt-and she was very dirty-the first glance into
her face gave one a certain feeling of comfort and confidence. This was
curious; for Mother Bunch had the loudest tongue and the most stalwart
arm in Paradise Row; she was, in short, the terror of the place and the
adjacent neighborhood. Bet, however, approached her without a particle
of fear; she knew that Mother Bunch was a good friend as well as a good
foe.
"I ha' come," she said, going straight up to her. "And here are the
boys. This one is Cap'n, and this one is Gen'ral. They're rare 'uns for
fighting, poor lads; and they ain't cowards. Have you got the room for
us, Mother Bunch?"
"To be sure, honey," replied Mother Bunch, wiping her arms, and smiling
broadly at Bet. "And indeed, and indeed, it's the truth I'm telling
you, love, when I say that not a purtier or nicer little room could be
found in the whole of the Row. You come along o' me, me dears-oh, and
it's chape as dirt you're getting it, love!"
The burly Irishwoman panted and rolled her-self upstairs. Bet came
next, carrying her bundle, and the boys followed in the rear. The
stairs were slippery, and dark, and broken--full of dangers and
pitfalls to all but the most wary.
"Jump across here, love," said Mother Bunch; "there's a hole two feet
wide just by this corner, and you'd drop into the cellar ef you worn't
careful. Oh, glory! but my breath's nearly gone--I'm bate entirely. I'm
letting you the room chape as dirt, Bet Granger, 'cos I've took a fancy
to you, honey; and that's as true as my name is Molly O'Flaherty. 'Tis
the Irish you have about you here, love--'tis them as is thrue to the
backbone as is your neighbors, dear. Fight for you! honey,--oh, yes,
we'll fight. Them boys, why they're Mother Bunch's boys now. There,
honey, there's your room, and as purty an attic as heart could wish. A
shilling a week! Why, it's chaper than dirt! Now then, I must go back
to hang up my bits of duds. There's the kay of the room, love, and
Molly O'Flaherty's blessings on all three of yez."
Mother Bunch turned, and thumped and bumped herself downstairs; and
Bet, her eyes bright, and a spot of intense color on each of her
cheeks, turned round to the boys.
"Look here," she said excitedly--"we're as safe here as if we was in
London. Do you think father will come to Paradise Row? and do you think
he'll face Mother Bunch? Yes, laddies, the room is small and close, and
horrid and dirty; and I _hate_ it, but I won't give way, and I won't
cry. I've got soap in this bundle, and washing soda, and an old brush,
and we'll clean it up--you two and me--and make it fit for mother's
boys to live in."
The little fellows, who were really frightened, cheered up at these
words. The dreadful attic, with its slanting roof and its tiny skylight
window, was illuminated by brave, handsome Bet's presence, and by the
comforting knowledge that the wretched man who called himself their
father could give them no blows nor kicks here. A miserable neighbor in
an opposite attic presently heard the three laughing as they worked.