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[Transcriber's note: obvious typographical errors have been corrected.]
[Illustration: "Well, yer can 'ave him: the worst on't is the gal;
she'll take on if I say yes, awful."--p. 109.]
_MOTHER-MEG_
OR,
_THE STORY OF DICKIE'S ATTIC_
BY
CATHARINE SHAW
AUTHOR OF
"ONLY A COUSIN," "ALICK'S HERO," "NELLIE ARUNDEL," "THE GALLED
FARM," ETC., ETC.
New Edition
_LONDON_:
JOHN F. SHAW AND CO.,
48, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
SHAW'S NEW GIFT SERIES.
FORMING MOST ATTRACTIVE PRESENTATION VOLUMES.
SERIES =A=.
_In bevelled boards, gilt edges, price Half-a-crown each.
Also issued in cloth, plain edges_.
1. SCAMP AND I. A Story of City Byways, By L. T. MEADE.
2. FRIENDS OR FOES. A Story for Boys and Girls E. EVERETT-GREEN.
3. JONAS HAGGERLEY. The Story of L100 Reward J. JACKSON WRAY.
4. THE LOST JEWEL. A Tale A. L. O. E.
5. OUR CAPTAIN; or, The Hero of Barton School M. L. RIDLEY.
6. MISTRESS MARGERY. A Tale of the Lollards E. S. HOLT.
7. THE EARLS OF THE VILLAGE. A Tale AGNES GIBERNE.
8. CABIN AND CASTLE; or, Barney's Story E. A. BLAND.
9. I WILL. A True Story for Boys ARTHUR HALL.
10. IDA'S SECRET; or, The Towers of Ickledale AGNES GIBERNE.
11. WATER GIPSIES; Adventures of Tagrag and Bobtail L. T. MEADE.
12. CRIPPLE JESS; The Hop-picker's Daughter L. MARSTON.
13. THE GABLED FARM; Young Workers for the King CATHARINE SHAW.
14. LOVE'S LABOUR; or, The Caged Linnet M. LEATHES.
15. THE THREE CHUMS. A School Story M. L. RIDLEY.
16. TRUE TO THE END. The Story of a Sister's Love DR. EDERSHEIM.
17. FLOSS SILVERTHORN; The Little Handmaid AGNES GIBERNE.
18. WORTH THE WINNING; or, Rewarded at Last EMMA HORNIBROOK.
19. A FORGOTTEN HERO; or, Not for Him EMILY S. HOLT.
20. MARCELLA OF ROME. A Tale of the Early Church F. EASTWOOD.
21. IN THE DESERT. A Tale of the Huguenots D. ALCOCK.
22. NOBODY'S LAD. A Story of the Big City LESLIE KEITH.
23. MADGE HARDWICKE; or, Mists of the Valley AGNES GIBERNE.
24. OUR SOLDIER HERO. The Story of my Brothers M. L. RIDLEY.
25. COUSIN DORA; or, Serving the King EMILY BRODIE.
26. BRAVE GEORDIE. The Story of an English Boy G. STEBBING.
27. MARJORY AND MURIEL; or, Two London Homes E. EVERETT-GREEN.
28. LIFE IN A NUTSHELL. A Story AGNES GIBERNE.
29. GIPSY MIKE; or, Firm as a Rock ANON.
30. DAVID'S LITTLE LAD. A Story of a Noble Deed L. T. MEADE.
31. SILVERDALE RECTORY; or, The Golden Links G. STEBBING.
32. ALICK'S HERO; or, The Two Friends CATHARINE SHAW.
33. LONELY JACK, and His Friends at Sunnyside EMILY BRODIE.
34. WILL FOSTER OF THE FERRY. A Story AGNES GIBERNE.
35. SENT TO COVENTRY; or, The Boys of Highbeech M. L. RIDLEY.
36. FROGGY'S LITTLE BROTHER. A Story BRENDA.
37. TWICE RESCUED. The Story of Tino N. CORNWALL.
38. IN THE SUNLIGHT. A Year of my Life's Story CATHARINE SHAW.
39. OLD CHICKWEED; or, The Story told E. A. BLAND.
40. THROUGH THE STORM; or, The Lord's Prisoners EMILY S. HOLT.
41. THE OLD HOUSE IN THE CITY; or, Not Forsaken AGNES GIBERNE.
42. KING'S SCHOLARS; or, Faithful unto Death M. L. RIDLEY.
43. JEAN LINDSAY, the Vicar's Daughter EMILY BRODIE.
44. SEEKETH NOT HER OWN. An Old Time Story M. L. SITWELL.
45. MOTHER-MEG. The Story of Dickie's Attic CATHARINE SHAW.
=LONDON: JOHN F. SHAW & CO., 48, Paternoster Row, E.C.=
=_And all Booksellers_=.
1806.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. PITILESS 7
II. THE WEDDING-DAY 13
III. THE LOST BROOCH 22
IV. ROYAL CHILDREN 32
V. A FEW SHIRTS 41
VI. A LODGER 49
VII. THE EMPTY PAN 60
VIII. GONE 70
IX. MEG'S TEA-PARTY 84
X. TURNING A NEW LEAF 97
XI. A MIDNIGHT BARGAIN 108
XII. "INASMUCH" 117
XIII. DICKIE'S ATTIC 131
XIV. IN THE HOSPITAL 144
XV. THE EMPTY CRADLE 156
XVI. "THEY SHALL SEE HIS FACE" 166
XVII. CHERRY'S APOLOGY 178
XVIII. MEG'S SAVINGS 188
XIX. LISTENING 200
XX. EARTH'S SONG AND HEAVEN'S ECHO 213
[Illustration]
MOTHER-MEG:
THE STORY OF DICKIE'S ATTIC.
CHAPTER I.
PITILESS.
"Put 'im down, 'e can walk as well as anythink."
It was a cold day in May, when the sun was hidden behind leaden clouds,
and the wind swept along the streets as if determined to clear them of
every loiterer who should venture to assure himself that it was not
March, and could not be so cold.
The few people who had ventured out in spring clothing bid fair to
"repent it many a day," and those who were happy enough to have winter
wraps drew them closer, and hurried along, the sooner to get into some
shelter. The omnibus men dashed their arms across their breasts for
warmth, and everybody, gentle or simple, looked nipped up with the
strong east wind.
"Put 'im down," said a hard-featured woman, who was walking slowly
along by the side of the road; "it won't matter 'is walkin' now."
The man thus addressed was a thin, brow-beaten looking individual, who
was carrying a child of some three years old in his arms. His clothes
were threadbare, his knees peeped through his worn trousers, and his
whole appearance was most deplorable. The woman by his side was as
poorly clad as himself, outwardly at least, but seemed to suffer less
from it. She was not thin, and if looked at closely, appeared to be well
fed, and perhaps to have no lack of drink either. She carried a small
infant in her arms, wrapped in a large dirty shawl.
The three-year-old child had a pale, suffering little face, which looked
as if tears were often very near. His eyes were terribly weak, and when
he was set down by the man he looked as if he would have fallen. But the
woman disengaged one of her hands, and said impatiently, dragging him
towards her, "Come along, Dickie, none o' yer nonsense; walk on like a
good boy."
The child gave one glance at her stern face, and then tottered on
silently, occasionally rubbing his poor little eyes with the back of his
tiny hand.
The wind met them round the corners; it seemed to be everywhere, and at
every gust the miserable-looking party looked more miserable still.
"How much 'ave yer took?" asked the man, as if he could turn and run
home.
The woman felt for her pocket, and after some fumbling she said in a low
voice, "Two-and-eight, I should think."
"Won't that do?" said the man, shivering. Then glancing sideways at the
child, he went on, "'E'll not walk many more steps, and if you don't
take care 'e'll not be hout to-morrer, nor next day neither; 'e's most
done, 'e is."
The woman turned round and was going to speak, when a respectable
couple, dressed in warm cloth, silks, and furs, came in sight.
In a moment her manner changed. "Take 'im up," she said in a wheedling
tone, "'e's tired, 'e is, and cold; carry 'im a bit, George."
The child, too cold and weary to care, was taken resistlessly into the
man's arms, and laid his head on his shoulder, and the party paused,
looking expectantly at the lady and gentleman who were fast approaching.
"My good woman, this is a bitter day for such little ones to be out,"
said the gentleman kindly; "have you far to go?"
"Over London Bridge, sir, down that way."
"That's a long distance," he exclaimed; "and you all look perished with
the cold."
"That we are, sir," answered the woman, sniffing, "and my good man, sir,
just now was a-saying that though we hadn't took a ha'penny, sir, this
day, we must give it up. But it's hard to see 'em suffer, sir, and have
no bread nor firing to give 'em."
The man shook his head dolorously at each sentence, and the weak little
child shut his eyes, as a fresh gust of wind seemed ready to blind him
altogether.
"That child ought not to be out on such a day as this at all," said the
lady almost severely.
"What is poor folk to do, my lady?" asked the woman, "there's no work,
and there's no food; and surely we'd be better to get a bit of broken
victuals or a copper from some Christian gentleman than to starve at
home, like rats in a hole!"
"Well, well," said the gentleman with a ponderous sigh, "it makes one's
heart ache, Clarissa. Here, my good woman, go home now and buy some food
and coals, and get that poor child warm."
He gave her a shilling and passed on, and the woman, catching sight of a
policeman whom she recognized bearing down upon them, they hastily
turned the other way and set off in the direction of London Bridge as
fast as they could go.
The man knew it was useless to put Dickie down to walk, for he had seen
all day that the child was very ill. His light weight, however, was not
a great trouble, for he was very small for his age, and now was so thin
and emaciated with hardship that the man doubted if he should ever carry
him again.
"I wish yer'd git some one else," he exclaimed at last, for some
remnants of humanity were left in his heart, and he had not carried that
tender little mite for six months without some feeling as near akin to
love as he was capable of.
His wife turned on him sharply. "Yer know we can't! There's lots o'
reasons why 'e is the best one as we can git. Look at them soft brown
curls of 'is, what allers takes the ladies, and 'is small size for
carryin'; and then yer know as well as I do as 'is mother's dead, and
'is father ain't of no account, and is glad to git a pint or two in
return for our havin' 'im. I wish you wouldn't be such a simpleton,
George."
The man sighed. Long ago he had given up contending with his imperious
wife, but sometimes as now, he walked along morosely, and his thoughts
were best known to himself.
"I'd save 'im from it if I could," he muttered to himself, "but I've
thought that 'afore, and it ain't no use. Still I shan't forgit--though
I ain't no good at anythink now."
They had now reached London Bridge, and soon after turned down one of
the narrow streets leading from the main thoroughfare, and again under a
long low archway running beneath the first floor rooms of one of the
houses, and so emerged into a court squalid and forlorn, which contained
the house they called home.
Just as they were turning in at the door a crippled child of some
thirteen or fourteen years came down the stairs to meet them. She
silently held out her arms for little Dickie, and without vouchsafing
more than one dark look at the woman's face, and then another hopeless
one at her little brother's, she slowly ascended again, step by step,
till weary and panting she laid him down on an old mattress in the
corner of the crowded room where she lived.
"Dickie," she moaned, burying her face in his neck, where the soft waves
of his golden-brown hair felt like silk against it, "Dickie, are they
goin' to kill you right out? Dickie----!"
[Illustration]
[Illustration]