“Come here! I’ll put a pin in for you.”
Mary came shuffling up, not unwillingly. She did not seem to dislike
her mother, that is all that could be said, and Ensor was glad to be
able to think it possible that Gertrude was not always unkind to her.
But such shocking neglect, even if there had been no excessive
corporal punishment, was culpable. He stood, handling the packet of
sweets dubiously, while the mother proceeded, with many a shake and
pull, to modify her child’s disorder, which she had the sense to see
injured her in the opinion of her master, if master he could be called
who had no authority. At last summoning his courage, Ensor pulled out
the packet and put it into Mary’s hand as she stood there, pending the
adjustment of clothes that could hardly be called such, so ragged and
insufficient were they.
The sweets fell to the ground, dropped with strange unchildish
negligence from a nerveless hand. The child did not even look up. A
spasm of agony transfixed the heart of Ensor.
Gertrude noticed the violent contraction of his features. She picked
up the packet of bull’s eyes, and actually inserted one into Mary’s
mouth. Ensor did not see if the child retained it, for he was groping
on the ground for some of the sweets that had fallen out of the burst
packet.
“Say thank you, you silly!” Gertrude adjured the child who stood
astonished, bewildered, by such ordinary attentions as are the usual
award of the protected and cherished young of any class. She was
passive through fright, but if she had had the spirit, it was easy to
see that her one idea was to hide, and that her eyes were looking for
a corner to run into. But her mother had hold of her, ordering her
attire, shaking her as if she had been a small frail apple-tree.
“That’s a very unsuitable length for a child’s dress, surely?” Ensor
remarked, when Mary stood, hardly erect, sheepish but disengaged at
last. The peccant undergarments were shoved into their proper place,
more or less, and concealed, and her long loose frock was draped into
paniers all round her.
“She’s skinny, that’s what it is!” conceded Gertrude. “Nothing won’t
stay up round her! The dress too long, eh? No wonder! It’s one of
Phillis’s that Miss Adelaide threw away because it was too bad for her
beauty to wear. It had to do for my Mary, hadn’t it? We can’t afford
to have clothes made on purpose for us, can we? Now run away, run away
and play!”
She grinned. Mary stood stock still.
“You’re to grow into your clothes, I see,” said Ensor helplessly.
“Well, make haste and grow, there’s a good girl!”
Mary smiled. Even if the gentleman’s words were absurd and irrelevant,
she could not be deceived in the kindness of the speaker’s intention.
The smile, begun without spirit or brilliance, faded out like sunlight
on a wall on a rainy day. Gertrude took up his speech, and answered
it.
“Grow! Her! Never fear! Mary’s one of those stunted-from-birth ones
Miss Adelaide’s always talking about. Just look at these thundering
long arms!”
She extended to its full length the gnome-like, skinny limb to which
she alluded. The owner suffered this liberty wearily. Her stupid
glazed eyes were fixed on Ensor. They seemed to say, “Save me! Save
me!”