PICKLES.
The lock-up to which the policeman wanted to convey Sue was at some
little distance. With his hand on her shoulder, they walked along, the
crowd still following. They turned down more than one by-street, and
chose all the short cuts that Constable Z could remember. One of these
happened to be a very narrow passage, and a place of decidedly ill
repute. The policeman, however, still holding his terrified charge,
walked down it, and the crowd followed after. In the very middle of this
passage--for it was little more--they were met by a mob even greater
than themselves. These people were shouting, vociferating, waving
frantic hands, and all pointing upwards. The policeman raised his eyes
and saw that the cause of this uproar was a house on fire. It was a very
tall, narrow house, and all the top of it was completely enveloped in
flames. From one window, from which escape seemed impossible--for the
flames almost surrounded it--a man leaned out, imploring some one to
save him. The height from the ground was too great for him to jump down,
and no fire-escape was yet in sight.
Policeman Z was as kind-hearted a man as ever lived. In the excitement
of such a moment he absolutely forgot Sue. He rushed into the crowd,
scattering them right and left, and sent those who had not absolutely
lost their heads flying for the fire-escape and the engines. They all
arrived soon after, and the man, who was the only person in the burning
part of the house, was brought in safety to the ground.
In the midst of the shouting, eager crowd Sue stood, forgetting herself,
as perhaps every one else there did also, in such intense excitement.
Scarcely, however, had the rescued man reached the ground when she felt
herself violently pulled from behind--indeed, not only pulled, but
dragged so strongly that she almost lost her feet. She attempted to
scream, but a hand was instantly placed over her mouth, and she found
herself running helplessly, and against her will, down a narrow passage
which flanked one side of the burning house; beyond this into a small
backyard; then through another house into another yard; and so on until
she entered a small, very dirty room. This room was full of unknown
condiments in jars and pots, some queer stuffed figures in
fancy-dresses, some wigs and curls of false hair, and several masks,
false noses, etc., etc. Sue, entering this room, was pushed instantly
into a large arm-chair, whereupon her captor came and stood before her.
He was a lad of about her own size, and perhaps a year or two younger.
He had a round, freckled face, the lightest blue eyes, and the reddest,
most upright shock of hair she had ever seen. He put his arms akimbo and
gazed hard at Sue, and so motionless became his perfectly round orbs
that Sue thought he had been turned into stone. Suddenly, however, he
winked, and said in a shrill, cheerful tone:
"Well, then, plucky 'un, 'ow does yer find yerself now?"
Not any number of shocks could quite deprive Sue of her common-sense.
She had not an idea of what had become of her. Was this another and a
rougher way of taking her to the lock-up? Was this queer boy friend or
foe?
"Be yer agen me, boy?" she said.
"Agen yer! Well, the ingratitude! Ha'n't I jest rescued yer from the
hands o' that 'ere nipper?"
"Oh!" exclaimed Sue; and the relieved tension of her poor, terrified
little heart found vent in two big tears which rose to her eyes.
The red-haired boy balanced himself on one toe in order to survey those
tears more carefully.
"Well," he said at length, in a tone in which there was a ludicrous
mingling of wonder and contempt--"well, ye're a queer un fur a plucky
un--a wery queer un. Crying! My eyes! Ain't yer hin luck not to be in
prison, and ain't that a subject for rejoicing? I don't cry when I'm in
luck; but then, thank goodness! I'm not a gel. Lor'! they're queer
cattle, gels are--wery queer, the best o' 'em. But they're as they're
made, poor things! We can't expect much from such weakness. But now look
you here, you gel--look up at me, full and solemn in the face, and say
if ye're hinnercent in the matter o' that 'ere locket. If yer can say
quite solemn and straightforward as yer his innercent, why, I'll help
yer; but if yer is guilty--and, mark me, I can tell by yer heyes ef
ye're talking the truth--I can do naught, fur I'm never the party to
harbor guilty folks. Now speak the truth, full and solemn; be yer
hinnercent?"
Here the red-haired boy got down on his knees and brought his eyes
within a few inches of Sue's eyes.
"Be yer hinnercent?" he repeated.
"Yes," answered Sue, "I'm quite, quite hinnercent; yer can believe me or
not as yer pleases. I'm quite hinnercent, and I won't cry no more ef
yer dislikes it. I wor never reckoned a cry-baby."
"Good!" said the boy; "I b'lieves yer. And now jest tell me the whole
story. I come hup jest when the perleeceman and the pawnbroker were
a-gripping yer. Lor'! I could a' twisted out o' their hands heasy
enough; but then, to be thankful agen, I ain't a gel."
"There's no good twitting me wid being a gel," interrupted Sue; "gels
have their use in creation same as boys, and I guess as they're often
the pluckier o' the two."
"Gels pluckier! Well, I like that. However, I will say as you stood
game. I guessed as you wor hinnercent then. And now jest tell me the
story."
"It wor this way," began Sue, whose color and courage were beginning to
return. Then she told her tale, suppressing carefully all tears, for she
was anxious to propitiate the red-haired boy. She could not, however,
keep back the indignation from her innocent young voice; and this
indignation, being a sure sign in his mind of pluckiness, greatly
delighted her companion.
"'Tis the jolliest shame I ever heard tell on in all my life," he said
in conclusion; but though he said this he chuckled, and seemed to enjoy
himself immensely. "Now then," he added, "there's no doubt at all as
ye're hinnercent. I know that as clear--I feels as sartin on that
p'int--as tho' I wor reading the secrets of my own heart. But 'tis jest
equal sartin as a magistrate 'ud bring you hin guilty. He'd say--and
think hisself mighty wise, too--'You had the locket, so in course yer
tuk the locket, and so yer must be punished.' Then you'd be tuk from the
lock-up to the House o' Correction, where you'd 'ave solitary
confinement, most like, to teach you never to do so no more."
"'Ow long 'ud they keep me there?" asked Sue. "'Ow long 'ud they be
wicked enough to keep me there fur what I never did?"
"Well, as it wor a first offence, and you but young, they might make it
a matter of no longer than a year, or maybe eighteen months. But then,
agen, they'd 'ave to consider as it wor diamonds as you tuk. They gems
is so waluable that in course you must be punished according. Yes,
considerin' as it wor diamonds, Sue, I would say as you got off cheap
wid two years."
"You talk jest as tho' I had done it," said Sue angrily, "when you know
perfect well as I'm quite hinnercent."
"Well, don't be touchy. I'm only considerin' what the judge 'ud say. I
ain't the judge. Yes, you'd 'ave two years. But, lor'! it don't much
matter wot time you 'ad, for you'd never be no good arter."
"Wot do you mean now?" asked Sue.
"I mean as you'd never get no 'ployment, nor be able to hold up yer
head. Who, I'd like to know, 'ud employ a prison lass--and what else 'ud
you be?"
Here Sue, disregarding her companion's dislike to tears, broke down
utterly, and exclaimed through her sobs:
"Oh! poor Giles--poor, poor Giles! It 'ull kill my little Giles. Oh! I
didn't think as Lord Jesus could give me sech big stones to walk hover."
"Now ye're gettin' complicated," exclaimed the red-haired boy. "I make
'lowance fur yer tears--ye're but a gel, and I allow as the picture's
dark--but who hever is Giles? And where are the stones? Ye're setting
still this 'ere minute, and I guess as the arm-chair in which I placed
yer, though none o' the newest, be better than a stone."
"Giles is my brother," said Sue; "and the stones--well, the stones is
'phorical, ef yer knows wot that means."
"Bless us, no! I'm sure I don't. But tell about Giles."
So Sue wiped her eyes again and went back a little further in her
life-story.
"It is complicated," said her companion when she paused--"a lame
brother, poor chap, and you the support. Well, well! the more reason as
you should keep out o' prison. Now, Sue, this is wot I calls _deep_;
jest keep still fur a bit, and let me put on my considerin' cap."
The red-haired boy seated himself on the floor, thrust his two hands
into his shock of hair, and stared very hard and very straight before
him. In this position he was perfectly motionless for about the space of
half a minute; then, jumping up, he came again very close to Sue.
"Be yer willin' to take the adwice of a person a deal wiser nor
yourself? Look me full in the heyes and answer clear on that p'int."
"Yes, I'm sure I am," said Sue, in as humble a spirit as the most
exalted teacher could desire.
"Good!" said the red-haired boy, giving his thigh a great clap. "Then
you've got to hearken to _me_. Sue, there's nothink in life fur you but
to hide."
"To hide!" said Sue.
"Yes. You must on no 'count whatever let the perleece find yer. We must
get to discover the guilty party, and the guilty party must confess; but
in the meanwhile yer must hide. There must be no smell o' the prison
'bout yer, Sue."
"Oh! but--but--boy--I don't know yer name."
"Pickles," said the red-haired boy, giving his head a bob. "Pickles, at
yer sarvice."
"Well, then, Pickles," continued Sue, "if I go and hide, what 'ull
become o' Giles?"
"And what 'ull come o' him ef yer go ter prison--yer goose? Now, jest
yer listen to the words o' wisdom. You mustn't go back to Giles, fur as
sure as you do the perleece 'ull have you. That would break that little
tender brother's heart. No, no, leave Giles ter me; you must hide, Sue."
"But where, and fur how long?" asked Sue.
"Ah! now ye're comin' sensible, and axin' refreshin' questions. Where?
Leave the where to me. How long? Leave the how long ter me."
"Oh Pickles! ye're real good," sobbed Sue; "and ef yer'll only promise
as Giles won't die, and that he won't break his heart wid frettin', why,
I'll leave it ter you--I'll leave it all ter you."
"And yer couldn't--search the world over--leave it to a safer person,"
said Pickles. "So now that's a bargain--I'll take care on Giles."