Little Meg's Red Frock in Pawn
Meg felt very forlorn when she opened her heavy eyelids the next
morning. It was certain now that her father could not be home for some
time, it might be a long time; and how was she to buy bread for her
children and herself? She took down her mother's letter from the end
of a shelf which supplied the place of a chimney-piece, and looked at
it anxiously; but she dared not ask anybody to read it for her, lest it
should contain some mention of the money hidden in the box; and that
must be taken care of in every way, because it did not belong to her,
or father even, but to one of his mates. She had no friend to go to in
all the great city. Once she might have gone to the teacher at the
school where she had learned to read a little; but that had been in
quite a different part of London, on the other side of the river, and
they had moved from it before her father had started on his last
voyage. Meg sat thinking and pondering sadly enough, until suddenly,
how she did not know, her fears were all taken away, and her childish
heart lightened. She called Robin, and bade him kneel down beside her,
and folding baby's hands together, she closed her own eyes, and bowed
her head, while she asked God for the help He had promised to give.
'Pray God,' said little Meg, 'You've let mother die, and father be took
bad at the other side of the world, and there's nobody to take care of
us 'cept You, and Jesus says, if we ask You, You'll give us bread and
everything we want, just like father and mother. Pray God, do! I'm
not a grown-up person yet, and Robin's a very little boy, and baby
can't talk or walk at all; but there's nobody else to do anythink for
us, and we'll try as hard as we can to be good. Pray God, bless father
at the other side of the world, and Robbie, and baby, and me; and bless
everybody, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen.'
Meg rose from her knees joyfully, feeling sure that her prayer was
heard and would be answered. She went out with her children to lay out
the shilling Kitty had returned to her the day before; and when they
come in she and Robin sat down to a lesson in reading. The baby was
making a pilgrimage of the room from chair to chair, and along the
bedstead; but all of a sudden she balanced herself steadily upon her
tiny feet, and with a scream of mingled dread and delight, which made
Meg and Robin look up quickly, she tottered across the open floor to
the place where they were sitting, and hid her face in Meg's lap,
quivering with joy and wonder. Meg's gladness was full, except that
there was a little feeling of sorrow that neither father nor mother was
there to see it.
'Did God see baby walk?' inquired Robin.
'I should think He did!' said Meg confidently; and her slight sorrow
fled away. God could not help loving baby, she felt sure of that, nor
Robin; and if He loved them, would He not take care of them Himself,
and show her how to take care of them, till father was at home? The
day passed almost as happily as Robin's birthday; though the rain came
down in torrents, and pattered through the roof, falling splash, splash
into the broken tub, with a sound something like the fountain in Temple
Gardens.
But when Kitty's shilling was gone to the last farthing, and not a
spoonful of meal remained in the bag, it was not easy to be happy.
Robin and baby were both crying for food; and there was no coal to make
a fire, nor any candle to give them light during the long dark evenings
of November. Kitty was out all day now, and did not get home till
late, so Meg had not seen her since the night she had brought the news
about her father. But a bright thought came to her, and she wondered
at herself for not having thought of it before. She must pawn her best
clothes; her red frock and bonnet with green ribbons. There was a
natural pang at parting with them, even for a time; but she comforted
herself with the idea that father would get them back for her as soon
as he returned. She reached them out of the box, feeling carefully
lest she should take any of Robin's or the baby's by mistake in the
dark; and then she set off with her valuable bundle, wondering how many
shillings she would get for them, and whether she could make the money
last till her father came. The pawnbroker's shop was a small, dingy
place in Rosemary Lane; and it, and the rooms above it, were as full as
they could be with bundles such as poor Meg carried under her old
shawl. A single gas-light was flaring away in the window, and a
hard-featured, sharp-eyed man was reading a newspaper behind the
counter. Meg laid down her bundle timidly, and waited till he had
finished reading his paragraph; after which he opened it, spread out
the half-worn frock, and held up the bonnet on his fist, regarding them
both with a critical and contemptuous eye. Some one else had entered
the shop, but Meg was too absorbed and too anxious to take any heed of
it The pawnbroker rolled the frock up scornfully, and gave it a push
towards her.
[Illustration: The pawnbroker spread out the half-worn frock, and held
up the bonnet on his fist.]
'Tenpence for the two,' he said, looking back at his newspaper.
'Oh! if you please,' cried little Meg, in an agony of distress, 'you
must give me more than tenpence. I've got two little children, and no
bread, nor coals, nor candles. I couldn't buy scarcely anythink with
only tenpence. Indeed, indeed, my red frock's worth a great deal more;
it's worth I don't know how many shillings.'
'You go home, little Meg,' said Kitty's voice behind her, 'and I'll
bring you three shillings for the frock, and one for the bonnet; four
for the two. Mr Sloman's an old friend o' mine, he is; and he'll
oblige you for my sake. There, you run away, and I'll manage this
little bit o' business for you.'
Meg ran away as she was told, glad enough to leave her business with
Kitty. By-and-by she heard her coming upstairs, and went out to meet
her. Kitty placed four shillings in her hand.
'Meg,' she said, 'you let me do that sort o' work for you always.
They'll cheat you ever so; but I wouldn't, not to save my life, if
you'll only trust me. You ask me another time. Is that the way God
takes care of you?'
'He does take care of me,' answered Meg, with a smile; 'or may be you
wouldn't have come into the shop just now, and I should have got only
tenpence. I suppose that's taking care of me, isn't it?'
'I don't know,' said Kitty. 'Only let me do that for you when you want
it done again.'
It was not very long before it wanted to be done again; and then Meg by
daylight went through the contents of the box, choosing out those
things which could best be spared, but leaving Robin's and baby's fine
clothes to the last. She clung to these with a strong desire to save
them, lest it should happen that her father came home too poor to
redeem them. The packet of money, tied up and sealed, fell at last to
the bottom of the almost empty box, and rolled noisily about whenever
it was moved, but no thought of taking any of it entered into Meg's
head. She was almost afraid of looking at it herself, lest the secret
of it being there should get known in Angel Court; and whenever she
mentioned it in her prayers, which she did every night, asking God to
take care of it, she did not even whisper the words, much less speak
them aloud, as she did her other requests, but she spoke inwardly only,
for fear lest the very walls themselves should hear her. No one came
near her attic, except Kitty, and she kept her promise faithfully.
Since the four bearers had carried away her mother's coffin, and since
the night Kitty came out of jail, the night of Robin's birthday, no
stranger's foot had crossed the door-sill.
But November passed, and part of December, and Meg's stock of clothes,
such as were of any value at the pawn-shop, was almost exhausted. At
the end of the year the term for which her father had paid rent in
advance would be over, and Mr Grigg might turn her and her children out
into the streets. What was to be done? How was she to take care of
Robin, and baby, and the money belonging to one of father's mates?