"Woa! d'ye hear? woa! I'm blest if I ever did see sich a 'oss as you
are, Ratty, 'ang me if I did. If a chap could drive you without
swearing, he must be a downright artch-angel. Holt still, will yer?
Look at that now!"
A jig here at the reins, and Ratty went forward; a lash from the whip,
and the horse, a wall-eyed, attenuated beast, with a rat-tail, went
backwards, ending by backing the hansom cab, in whose shafts he played
at clay mill, going round and round in a perfect slough of a new unmade
road, cut into ruts by builders' carts.
"Now, look'ee here," said the driver, our friend of the Pall Mall
accident; "on'y one on us can be master, yer know. If you'll on'y say
as yer can drive, and will drive, why, I'll run in the sharps, and
there's an end on't. Hold still, will yer? Yer might be decent
to-day."
The horse suddenly stood still--bogged, with the slushy mud over his
fetlocks, and the cab wheels half-way down to the nave.
"Thenky," said the driver, standing up on his perch; "much obliged. I'm
blessed!" he muttered. "Buddy may well say as mine's allus the dirtiest
keb as comes inter the yard, as well as the shabbiest. 'Struth, what a
place! Now, then, get on, will yer?"
The horse gave his Roman-profiled head a shake, and remained motionless.
"Just like yer," said the cabman. "When I want yer to go, yer stop; and
when I don't want yer to go, off yer do go, all of a shy, and knocks
'alf a dozen people into the mud, and gets yer driver nearly took up for
reckless driving, as the bobbies calls it. Come, get on."
Another shake of the head, but the four legs seemed planted as if they
were to grow.
"Well, there's one thing, Ratty," said the driver, "we're about square,
mate; for if ever I've give yer too much of the whip, yer've had it
outer me with obstinacy. Look at this now, just when yer oughter be on
yer best manners, seeing as I've come about the mischief as yer did; and
then, to make it wus, yer takes advantage of yer poor master's weakness,
and goes a-leading of him inter temptation sore as can't be bore, and
pulls up close aside of a public."
For the spot at which the horse had stopped was at the opening of one of
those new suburban streets run up by speculative builders--a street of
six and seven-roomed houses, with a flaring tavern at the corner; and
the houses, starting from the commencement of the street, in every stage
from finished and inhabited, through finished and uninhabited, down to
unfinished skeletons with the bricks falling out--foundations just above
the ground, foundations merely dug, to end only with a few scaffold
poles, and a brick-field in frill work.
"Stops right in front of a public, yer do," said the driver; "and me as
thirsty as a sack o' sawdust."
The cabman looked at the public-house, to read golden announcements of
"Tipkin's Entire," of "The Celebrated Fourpenny Ale," and the "Brown
London Stout, threepence per pot in your own jugs," and his whip-hand
was drawn across his lips. Then the whip-hand was set free, and forced
its way into his pockets, where it rattled some halfpence.
"Must have 'alf pint now, anyhow," he muttered, and he made as if to
fasten the reins to the roof of the cab, but only to plump himself down
into his seat again, jig the reins, and give his whip, a sharp crack.
"I'll tell the missus on you, Hatty, see if I don't?" he said, "a-trying
to get your master back into his old ways. Get on with yer, or yer'll
get it directly."
He gave his whip such a vigorous crack in the air that Ratty consented
to go, and dragging the muddy cab partially down the new street, its
driver pulled up by where a knot of shoeless boys were ornamenting, and
amusing themselves with, the new ill-laid pavement. One was standing
like a small Colossus of Rhodes, with his grimy feet at either corner of
a loose slab, making the liquid mud beneath squirt out into a puddle,
while a companion carefully turned a naked foot into a stamp, dipped it
in the mud, and printed a pattern all along the pave, till a third
smudged it out, and a fight ensued.
"Hallo, yer young dogs," roared the cabman, and his long whip gave a
crack which stopped the fray; "a-fightin' like that! Where's Whaley's
Place?"
"First turn to the left, and first to the right," shouted two boys.
"And is it all like this here?" said the cabman.
"No; you should have gone round Brick Street. I'll show yer."
"Hook on, then," said the cabman, turning his horse; and, to the extreme
envy of his companions, the little speaker "hooked on" behind, his muddy
feet slipping about on the step; but he clung fast, shouting his
directions till the driver reached the main road, made a detour, and
arrived at last in Whaley's Place, where the present of a copper sent
the boy off in high glee to spend it in some coveted luxury.
"Nice sorter cheerful spot this," said the cabman, taking an
observation of the street, which was of a similar class to the new one
he had left, only that the houses had fallen into a state of premature
decay; quite half, too, had declined from the genteel private and taken
to trade, with or without the bow window of shop life. For instance,
one displayed a few penny illustrated sheets and an assortment of
fly-specked clay pipes, the glass panes bearing the legends, "Tobacco"
and "Cigars." Another house had the door wide open, and sundry squeaks
issued therefrom--squeaks of a manufacturing tendency, indicative of
grinding, the process being explained by a red and yellow board, having
an artistic drawing of the machinery used, and the words, "Mangling Done
Here." Then, after an interval of private houses, there was a
fishmonger's, with a stock-in-trade of four plaice and ten bloaters,
opposite to a purveyors, in whose open window--the parlour by rights,
with the sashes out--were displayed two very unpleasant-looking
decapitations of the gentle sheep, and three trays of pieces, labelled
ninepence, sevenpence, and sixpence individually, apparently not from
any variation of quality, but the amount of bone.
"A werry nice sorter place," said the cabman, gazing down at the
numerous children, and the preternaturally big-headed, tadpoleish
babies, whose porters were staring at him. "Said it was a little
groshers shop. Ah, here we are."
It was only four doors farther on, and at this establishment there was a
shop front, with the name "B. Sturt" on the facia. The stock here did
not seem to be extensive, though the place was scrupulously clean.
There was a decorative and pictorial aspect about the trade carried on,
which was evidently that of a chandler's shop; for, in attenuated
letters over the door, you read that Barnabas Sturt was licenced by the
Board of Inland Revenue to deal in tea, coffee, pepper, vinegar, and
tobacco. The panes of the windows were gay with show cards, one of
which displayed the effects of Tomkins's Baking Powder, while in another
a lady was holding up fine linen got up with Winks's Prussian Blue, and
smiling sweetly at a neighbouring damsel stiff with regal starch. There
were pictorial cards, too, telling of the celebrated Unadulterated
Mustard, the Ho-fi Tea Company, and Fort's Popular Coffee.
Descending from his perch, the cabman stroked and patted his horse, and
then entered the shop, setting a bell jingling, and standing face to
face with a counter, a pair of scales, and a box of red herrings.
Nobody came, so he tapped the floor with his whip, and a voice growled
savagely from beyond a half-glass door which guarded an inner room--
Waiting patiently for a few moments, the cabman became aware of the fact
that Barnabas Sturt consumed his tobacco as well as dealt in it; and at
last, growing impatient, he peered through the window, to perceive that
a very thin, sour-looking woman, with high cheek bones, was dipping
pieces of rag into a tea-cup of vinegar and water, and applying them to
the contused countenance of a bull-headed gentleman, who lay back in a
chair smoking, and making the woman wince and sneeze by puffing volumes
of the coarse, foul vapour into her face.
"Better mind what you are doing!" he growled.
"Can't help it, dear," said the woman, plaintively, "if you smoke me so.
Well, what now?" she said, waspishly, and changing her tone to the
metallic aggressive common amongst some women.
"Been having a--?" the cabman finished his sentence by grinning, and
giving his arms a pugilistic flourish.
"What's that got to do with you?" growled Mr Sturt. "What d' yer come
into people's places like that for?"
"Because people says as they sells the werry best tobacco at threepence
a hounce," said the cabman. "Give's half-hounce."
"Go an' weigh it," said Mr Sturt.
The woman dropped the piece of rag she held, and passed shrinkingly into
the shop, took the already weighed-out tobacco from a jar, and held out
her hand for the money.
"Now then," growled Mr Sturt from the back room, "hand that over here,
will yer?"
The cabman walked into the room and laid down the money, slowly emptying
the paper afterwards into a pouch, which he took from a side pocket.
"This here's twenty-seven, ain't it?" said the cabman then.
"Yes, it is twenty-seven," cried Mr Sturt--our friend Barney of the
steeplechase--and he seemed so much disturbed that he leaped up and
backed into a corner of the room. "You ain't got nothin' again' me,
come, now."
"No, I ain't got nothin' again' yer," said the cabman, quietly, but with
his eye twinkling. "Did yer think I was--?"
He finished his sentence with a wink.
"Never you mind what I thought," said Barney. "What d' yer want here?"
"Only to know if Mrs Lane lives here."
"Yes, she do," cried the woman, spitefully; "and why couldn't you ring
the side bell, and not come bothering us?"
"Because I wanted some tobacco, mum," said the cabman, quietly.
"Oh!" said the woman, in a loud voice; "with their cabs, indeed,
a-comin' every day: there'll be kerridges next!"
"Just you come and go on with your job," said Barney, with a snarl.
"I'm coming!" said the woman, sharply. Then to the cabman--"You can go
this way;" and she flung open a side door and called up the
stairs--"Here, Mrs Lane, another cab's come for you. There, I s'pose
you can go up," she added; and then, in a voice loud enough to be heard
upstairs, "if people would only pay their way instead of riding in cabs,
it would be better for some of us."
A door had been heard to open on the first floor, and then, as the
vinegary remark of Mrs Sturt rose, voices were heard whispering. The
cabman went straight up the uncarpeted stairs, to pause before the
half-open door, as he heard, in a low conversation, the words--
"Mamma--dear mamma, pray don't notice it."
The next moment the door opened fully, and the pale, worn-looking woman
of the accident stood before the cabman, who shuffled off his hat, and
stood bowing.
"Jenkles, mum," he said--"Samuel Jenkles, nine 'underd seven six, as
knocked you down in Pall Mall."
The woman stepped back and laid her hand upon her side, seeming about to
fall, when the cabman started forward and caught her, helping her to a
chair in the shabbily-furnished room, as the door swung to.
"Oh, mamma," cried a girl of about seventeen, springing forward, the
work she had been engaged upon falling on the floor.
"It is nothing, my dear," gasped the other; though her cheek was ashy
pale, and the dew gathered on her forehead.
"She's fainting, my dear," said the cabman. "Got anything in the
house?"
"Yes, some water," said the girl, supporting the swooning woman, and
fanning her face.
"Water!" ejaculated the cabman, in a tone of disgust. "Here, I'll be
back directly."
He caught up a little china mug from a side table, and ran out, nearly
upsetting Mrs Sturt on the landing and Barney at the foot of the
stairs, to return at the end of a few minutes, and find the passage
vacant; so he hastily ran up, to see that Mrs Lane had come to in his
absence, though she looked deadly pale.
"Here, mum," he said, earnestly, "drink this; don't be afeard, it's port
wine. A drop wouldn't do you no harm neither, Miss," he added, as he
glanced at the pale, thin face and delicate aspect of the girl.
Mrs Lane put the mug to her lips, and then made an effort, and sat up.
"You was hurt, then, mum?" said the cabman, anxiously.
"Only shaken--frightened," she said, in a feeble voice.
"And my coming brought it all up again, and upset you. It's jest like
me, mum, I'm allus a-doing something; ask my missus if I ain't."
"It did startle me," said Mrs Lane, recovering herself. "But you
wished to see me. I am better now, Netta," she said to the girl, who
clung to her. "Place a chair."
"No, no, arter you, Miss," said the cabman; "I'm nobody;" and he
persisted in standing. "'Scuse me, but I knows a real lady when I sees
one; I'll stand, thanky. You see, it was like this: I saw Tommy Runce
on the stand--him, you know, as brought you home from the front of the
club there--and I ast him, and he told me where he brought you. And
when I was talking to the missus last night, she says, says she, `Well,
Sam,' she says, `the least you can do is to drive up and see how the
poor woman is, even if you lose half a day.' `Well,' I says, `that's
just what I was a thinking,' I says, `only I wanted to hear you say it
too.' So you see, mum, thinking it was only decent like, I made bold to
come and tell you how sorry I am, and how it was all Ratty's fault; for
he's that beast of a horse--begging your pardon, mum, and yours too,
Miss--as it's impossible to drive. He oughter ha' been called
Gunpowder, for you never know when he's going off."
"It was _very_ kind and very thoughtful of you, and--and your wife,"
said Mrs Lane; "and indeed I thank you; but I was not hurt, only
shaken."
"Then it shook all the colour outer your face, mum, and outer yours too,
Miss," he said, awkwardly. "You'll excuse me, but you look as if you
wanted a ride every day out in the country."
As he spoke, the girl glanced at a bundle of violets in a broken glass
of water in the window; then the tears gathered in her eyes. She seemed
to struggle for a moment against her emotion, and then started up and
burst into a passion of weeping.
"My darling!" whispered Mrs Lane, catching her in her arms, and trying
to soothe her, "pray--pray don't give way."
"I've done it again," muttered Jenkles--"I'm allus a-doing it--it is my
natur' to."
The girl made a brave effort, dashed away the tears, shook back her long
dark hair, and tried to smile in the speaker's face, but so piteous and
sad a smile that Jenkles gave a gulp; for he had been glancing round the
room, and in that glance had seen a lady and her daughter living in a
state of semi-starvation, keeping life together evidently by sewing the
hard, toilsome slop-work which he saw scattered upon the table and
chairs.
"She has been ill," said Mrs Lane, apologetically, "and has not quite
recovered. We are very much obliged to you for calling."
"Well, you see, mum," said Jenkles, "it was to set both of us right,
like--you as I didn't mean to do it, and me and my missus that you
warn't hurt. And now I'm here, mum, if you and the young lady there
would like a drive once or twice out into the country, why, mum, you've
only got to say the word, and--"
"You'll excuse me, ma'am," said the sharp voice of Mrs Sturt, laying
great stress on the "ma'am," "but my 'usban' is below, and going out on
business, and he'd be much obliged if you'd pay us the rent."
The girl looked in a frightened way at her mother, who rose, and said,
quietly--
"Mrs Sturt, you might have spared me this--and before a stranger, too."
"I don't know nothing about no strangers, ma'am," said Mrs Sturt,
defiantly. "I only know that my master sent me up for the rent; for he
says if people can afford to come home in cabs, and order cabs, and
drink port wine, they can afford to pay their rent; so, if you please,
ma'am, if you'll be kind--"
"Why, them two cabs warn't nothing to do with the lady at all," said
Jenkles, indignantly; "and as for the wine, why, that was mine--and--and
I paid for it."
"And drunk it too, I dessay," said Mrs Sturt. "Which it's four weeks
at seven-and-six, if you please, ma'am--thirty shillings, if you
please." The girl stood up, her eyes flashing, and a deep flush in her
cheeks; but at a sign from her mother she was silent.
"Mrs Sturt," she said, "I cannot pay you now; give me till Saturday."
"That won't do for my master, ma'am; he won't be put off."
"But the work I have in hand, Mrs Sturt, will half pay you--you shall
receive that."
"I'm tired on it," said Mrs Sturt, turning to the door; "p'r'aps I'd
better send him up."
"Oh, mamma," said the girl, in a low, frightened voice, and she turned
of a waxen pallor, "don't let him come here."
And she clung trembling to her arm as the retreating footsteps of Mrs
Sturt were heard, and, directly after, her vinegary voice in colloquy
with her husband.
"Here, I'll soon let 'em know," he was heard to say, roughly.
The trembling girl hid her face on her mother's shoulder; but only to
start up directly, very pale and firm, as Barney's heavy step was heard.
"Blame me if I can stand this," muttered Jenkles.
Then without a word he stuck his hat on his head and walked out of the
room, in time to meet the master of the house on the stairs.
"Now, then?" said Barney, as Jenkles stopped short.
"Now, then," said Jenkles, "where are you going?"
"In there," said Barney, savagely; and he nodded towards the room.
"No, you ain't," said Jenkles; "you're a-going downstairs."
"Oh, am I? I'll just show you about that."
He rushed up two more of the stairs; but Jenkles did not budge an inch--
only met the brute with such a firm, unflinching look in his ugly eyes
that the bully was cowed, puzzled at the opposition.
"You're a-going downstairs to send yer missus up; and jest you tell her
to go and take a spoonful o' treacle out o' the shop afore she does come
up, so as she'll be a little bit sweeter when the ladies pays her."
Then Jenkles walked back into the room, rammed his hand into his pocket,
and pulled out a dirty canvas bag, out of which he fished a piece of rag
tied tightly, in one corner of which was a sovereign, which had to be
set free with his teeth. From another corner he tried to extricate a
half-sovereign, but it would not come, the knot was too tight.
"Here, lends a pair o' scissors," he exclaimed, angrily.
"What are you going to do?" said Mrs Lane.
"To cut this here out," said Jenkles; "there, that's it. Here's a sov
and a arf, mum, as was saved up for our rent. I never did such a thing
afore, but that's nothing to you. I'll lend it you, and you'll pay me
again when you can. There's my name on that dirty envelope, and you'll
send it, I know."
"No," exclaimed Mrs Lane, in a choking voice, "I--"
At this moment Mrs Sturt entered the room, looking very grim; but no
sooner did she see the money lying upon the table than she walked up,
took it, said "Thanky," shortly, and jerked a letter upon the table.
Jenkles was following her, when Mrs Lane cried "Stop!" seized the
letter, tore it open, and read it.
It was in reply to the second she had written, both of which had reached
Captain Vanleigh, though she believed the first had been lost.