We arose about four o'clock in the morning and went to the market,
which, at this early hour, was crowded with waggons, carts, and country
people, who had brought various kinds of vegetables for sale. Mrs.
Williams and her eldest daughter went among these people to make their
purchases, while the younger one, Jane, and myself went to the shop,
which we opened, kindled a fire, and prepared everything for breakfast.
About eight o'clock Mrs. Williams returned, accompanied by a clean,
good-looking countryman, to whom she said:
'This, Master Davis, is the little girl I was mentioning to you. I see
breakfast is ready, so sit down and take a cup of tea with us, and I
will tell you all I know about her, and how it was she came to me.'
The good man took his seat at the table, and during the time of
breakfast Mrs. Williams told him all my little story, and concluded by
urging the request that he would try to get me engaged to work in Mr.
Freeman's gardens.
'I will do what I can,' said he; 'but this is a bad time of year to take
on a fresh hand, and the child looks but weakly, and that, you know, is
against her. However, I'll give her the chance, and take her down with
me in the cart, and I'll go with her to Mr. Freeman and say what I can
for her; and if he engages her, why, I'll let her be at my house as one
of my children--that is, if my dame agrees to it, and belike she may, as
we have children of our own, and don't know what they may come to; but
if master will not engage her, why, I must bring her back again next
market-day, for I cannot afford to keep her for nothing.'
'No, no,' said Mrs. Williams; 'I don't desire that you should. If Mr.
Freeman will not engage her, bring her back, and I must try to do
something else for her; but say all you can in her favour. She is a
friendless child, and you don't know what your own children may come
to.'
'Very true,' said he. 'I'll do all I can for her. But what be we to call
her, as she has no right kind of name? Lady Anne is so long that I shall
never get it all out.'
'It is no longer than Mary Anne,' replied she; 'and I think if you are a
wise man you will call her by her title and make your children do the
same. If it should be the means of discovering her father, it might put
a pretty sum into your pocket.'
'Why, as for that, it might and it might not; but if it is the girl's
name she shall be called by it, so there's an end to that. And now I
must away to settle my money matters, and I'll come back for the child
about eleven o'clock, so good-bye t'ye for the present.'
Away went the man, leaving Mrs. Williams much pleased with the success
she had met with, as she said she had not a doubt but Mr. Freeman would
engage me when he knew it was one of his best customers that asked the
favour. I was much pleased too, for, as I could not stay with Mrs.
Williams, I did not venture to form a higher wish than to be engaged at
Mr. Freeman's, for my spirits had been so much broken during my stay at
Smith's that I no longer dared to indulge the hope of ever finding my
father.
About eleven o'clock my new friend, John Davis, came for me. Taking my
little bundle under his arm, he conducted me to his cart. He lifted me
in, and putting his horses into motion, we went shaking and rattling
through the streets. This part of the journey was disagreeable enough;
but when, at Knightsbridge, we entered the turnpike-road, then it began
to be very pleasant. A complete thaw had succeeded to the frost; the
fields and hedges looked green, and the air was as soft and mild as if
it had been spring. I was seated on a truss of hay in the corner of the
cart, and as we rode slowly along my spirits seemed to revive, and I
once more indulged the pleasing hope of finding my father; then, again,
as we advanced, my hope was damped by fear lest Mr. Freeman would not
engage me, or lest Mrs. Davis should refuse to let me be at her house. I
continued in this agitation of mind during the time of our little
journey. At last we stopped at a cottage by the roadside, at a small
distance from Turnham Green. John Davis lifted me out of the cart and
led me into the house, where we were received by a woman, whom I
immediately found was his wife.
'You are late to-day,' said she; 'and, pray, who is this you have
brought with you?'
He took his seat near the fire (while I remained standing near the
door), and briefly related my story to her, particularly dwelling on
Mrs. Williams being such a good customer that he could not refuse to
bring me.
'Bless thee, John!' she said, as he concluded; 'I wish thee had as much
wit as good nature, and thee would not have brought another person's
child to burden us with. Suppose Master Freeman should not engage her,
what's to be done then?'
'I must take her back again, to be sure; but I don't see why he should
not engage her--she's a clean, wholesome-looking girl.'
The dame had eyed me pretty well during this conversation. She now gave
me another scrutinizing gaze, and then said to her husband:
'She may be clean and wholesome enough--I don't say anything against
that--but she's as white as a curd, and does not look as if she has ever
had a good meal of victuals in her life.'
'The more's the pity, wife. Then let us give her one. I told you how
cruelly that umbrella-maker in the borough used her. I should like to
have the dressing of them with my horsewhip. I would lay it on them with
goodwill, I give you my word.'
'No fear of that,' replied his wife, 'and they deserve it, too. Come,
child, don't stand there by the door; here's a seat for you by the fire.
Dinner will soon be ready, and you shall not starve while you are with
us, I give you my word; but whether we can let you stay or not is a
different question.'
Soon after this their three children, two girls and a boy, who were
employed in the nursery-grounds, came in to dinner. The table was
quickly spread, and we sat down to an ample repast of good boiled
potatoes and fried bacon. After we had dined and sat awhile, Mr. Davis
said to me:
'Come, Miss Minnikin, let us go and see what Master Freeman will say to
us. Why, wife, I'll be flogged if the girl does not look better already.
I fancy she'll do credit to our keep.'
'I suppose the child was cold and wanted her dinner,' replied his wife,
'and now she has had it, of course she looks better. But do you see it
is past one o'clock? You had better make haste; and you, children, be
off to your work. You have stayed more than an hour at your dinner.'
We now all departed for Mr. Freeman's, which was about half a quarter of
a mile distant. The children went to their work in the garden, and Mr.
Davis led me up to the house. After having given an account to Mr.
Freeman of the money he had taken at the market that morning, he
presented me to him, and mentioned Mrs. Williams's request.
'Well, Master Davis,' said Mr. Freeman, 'I do not want another hand, you
know very well; but Mrs. Williams is, as you say, a very good customer,
and so, I suppose, we must give the child a trial. Take her to Master
Joseph, and he will set her about something, and we shall be able to
judge by Saturday night what she can earn, and you shall be paid what is
right, for I suppose she will be with you.'
'Yes, sir,' replied Mr. Davis. 'She shall take lot and scot among my own
children. I shall make no difference.'
'Well, well,' said Mr. Freeman, 'we will do what is right by her and you
too.'
I was then taken into the grounds to Mr. Joseph, who was the
head-gardener. We found him working at a flower-bed. When he saw Mr.
Davis he said:
'Well, friend, what have you there--a lily or a snow-drop?'
'Which you please, Master Joseph,' replied the other. 'She is a little
girl that I have brought to put under your government.'
He then gave him an account how he had met with me, told him I was an
Earl's daughter, but had lost my father, and was to be called Lady Anne.
At this Mr. Joseph laughed, and said 'he had no objection to call me
Lady Anne, but that he should forget and call me Lady Lily.' After a
little more talk it was agreed that I should go the following morning,
as they both said it was too late for me to begin work that day. Mr.
Davis then conducted me back to his cottage, and having told his wife
that I was engaged, he went away to his work. The good dame told me that
I might sit down and rest myself, for she supposed I was tired. I really
was very tired, but seeing her engaged in mending the family clothes, I
told her that if she pleased I would help her.
'What!' said she; 'can you sew? I am sure if you can I shall be very
glad of your help, for my girls never put in a stitch, even for
themselves, except it is some finery for Sundays, and then they do it
because I can't do it well enough for them. There, my girl, if you can
mend me those stockings you'll do me a service. They have holes large
enough for you to put your hand through. I have sometimes thought that
if the girls would not mend their stockings themselves they should wear
them with holes in, and so they would, for never a stitch would they put
in, and then I am ashamed of seeing them go about in rags, so I keep
mending for them; but I have so much to do that I can hardly keep them
tidy.'
I took the stockings and found the dame had described them very
correctly, for one of the holes was so large that I actually did put my
hand through it. However, by dint of close application, I mended two
pairs of them before it was quite dark. I was then obliged to lay aside
my work, as Mrs. Davis said she should not yet light a candle, and I
need not do any more work till after tea. My having helped her at the
needlework put her into high good humour, and she asked me a great many
questions, and said she was glad that Mr. Freeman had engaged me, and
that, if I behaved myself properly, I should be very welcome to stay
with them till I was old enough to take care of myself. These kind
expressions, so different to any I had heard for a long time, cheered my
heart. I thanked her most sincerely, and promised to do all I could to
please her. I then helped her to prepare the tea. Soon after this Mr.
Davis and the children came in. We sat down to our tea, and during the
repast the eager questions of the children as to who I was, where I came
from, and what I was to do, were more attended to than they had been at
dinner-time. Their father gave them some account of me, and made me
relate all the particulars of my falling into the kennel with the pie.
They all laughed heartily, and now that I was out of danger, I could not
help laughing at it myself.
'That smashing of the pie is a good joke,' said Mr. Davis. 'I should
like to see how the Smiths looked when you did not go back, and when
they heard that you had laid their pie in the gutter. I warrant they
would wear out more pairs of shoes than they would sell in a week in
running after the old woman and the boys; but I can tell you, girl, it
was a lucky chance for you that you did tumble down, or else you would
still have been with them misericating in their dirty garret. By-the-by,
dame, where's the girl to sleep?'
'That question is sooner asked than answered,' replied his wife. 'You
know there is not a bit to spare in the house; the children cannot be
put out of their beds. There is no way that I can see but for her to
have a blanket and sleep among the hay in the loft over the stable. I
have slept so many a time when I was a girl, and was none the worse for
it.'
'I wish you could make room for her in the house,' answered her husband.
'I do not like the thought of turning her out of the house, as it were.
Could you not make her up a bed on the floor?'
'No, no,' replied his wife, 'I cannot. I can see no hardship in her
sleeping upon clean sweet hay, with a good blanket to wrap round her.'
To shorten the contest I said that I thought I could sleep very well
upon the hay, though I certainly should have preferred sleeping in the
house, but I was afraid they would quarrel on my account, which would
have been to my injury; and, at all events, the hay-loft was a better
place to sleep in than the wretched attic at Mr. Smith's. This point
being settled, Mr. Davis went out, as he had not yet finished his day's
work, and it being dark, so that no more work could be done in the
gardens, the children remained at home.
I had now an opportunity of observing these children. The eldest was a
girl, seemingly about thirteen, of a healthy, robust appearance, but by
no means neat in her dress. The second, a girl of eleven, with much the
same appearance as her sister; and the youngest, a boy, seemingly about
nine, a chubby, good-natured-looking little fellow, and, I thought, very
like his father. After the tea-things were put away, the girls brought
each a little box to the table, in which was a quantity of odd pieces of
muslin, ribbon, silk, etc., and they passed the evening in making these
things up into frills and other articles of finery. The boy brought a
quantity of wood to the further end of the table, and with no tool but a
knife and a little saw, he employed himself in making little toys. That
evening he made a dining-table and a chair.
'Tommy is a clever boy,' said the mother to me, seeing I was looking at
his work. 'He amuses himself of an evening in making these kind of toys,
and he sells them to young gentlemen and ladies in the neighbourhood,
and I assure you they like his toys better than what they buy in the
shops. What was it Master Watson gave you for the little boat, Tommy?'
'Half a crown, mother; but I was two weeks in making it; and last week I
earned two shillings in making chairs and tables.'
I felt curious to know what Tommy did with his money, as he earned so
much, but I did not like to ask the question, as that would have been
rude. However, his mother, who seemed very fond of him, and, I thought,
justly so, soon told me.
'Tommy earns a great deal of money by this kind of work, which is his
play,' said she; 'and he gives every farthing of it to his father and
me. Part of it we lay out in clothes for him, and the rest we are saving
till he is ten years old, and then he is to go to school, and his own
money will pay for it. We take what he earns at the grounds for his
keep, but all that he earns of an evening shall be laid out upon
himself. I wish my girls were half as industrious.'
'Why, la! mother,' said the eldest, 'you would never let us amuse
ourselves at all, I believe. We go to the grounds as soon as it is light
of a morning and work there till it is dark of an evening, and you have
all the money we earn. I don't know what more you would have.'
'I would have you mend your own clothes, hussy, and not spend all these
long evenings in making up a parcel of finery that only makes people
laugh at you.'
I was much afraid that the mother and daughter would have quarrelled,
but Tommy, showing his workmanship to his mother, took her attention
from his sister, and thus peace was restored. Mrs. Davis and I spent the
evening, till nine o'clock, in mending stockings. Then her husband came
in, and we sat down to our supper of bread and cheese and small beer.
After supper was over Mr. Davis would not allow any more work to be
done, so we sat and chatted till ten o'clock, which was bedtime. Mrs.
Davis then gave me a piece of rush-light in a lanthorn, and I was shown
to the hay-loft, where the fragrant smell of the hay was as refreshing
as the dirt at Mr. Smith's had been disgusting.
I soon tossed up a sufficient quantity of hay to make myself a soft nice
bed; and, after having on my knees returned thanks to the Almighty for
having delivered me from such a state of misery as I had been in, I
wrapped the blanket around me, and, laying down on the hay, was soon in
a profound slumber.