A REMOVAL.
A manly voice was heard on the outside, speaking to a porter who was
passing at the moment.
"Can you tell me, pray, whether two boys of the name of Parton live near
this place? From the direction which was given me, I think that we must
be near their dwelling."
"Parton?-- well," began the porter, in a doubtful voice; but little
Billy was up in a moment: "Yes, here they are! here's where we live!"
shouted he, and the next minute the shed was entered by the gentleman
and his son whom I had seen at the Zoological Gardens.
The father almost started as he glanced round the miserable place, and
the look of pity on his face deepened into one of pain, while Neddy
appeared even more shocked. He had, I suspect, known little of poverty,
but by hearsay; and the bare, terrible reality took him by surprise.
Bob had risen from the heap of dirty rubbish which served him for a bed.
His thin cheek glowed with a bright flush of pleasure as he recognised
his benefactor.
"Is it possible that you live here?-- sleep here?" exclaimed the
gentleman; "exposed in this wretched shed, without a fire, to all the
severity of winter?"
Bob attempted to speak, but was stopped by his cough. Billy, who was at
all times more talkative and ready to reply, answered, "Yes, we lives
here, and sleeps here too, when the cold don't keep us awake!"
"And does no one ever come to visit you?"
"No one but the rats!" replied the child.
"The rats!" exclaimed Neddy, with a gesture of horror and disgust, which
irritated my vanity not a little. Oddity had none, so he looked tranquil
as usual.
"Oh, papa!" cried Neddy, "they must not stay here; this horrible hole is
only fit for rats!"
His father was bending over Bob, feeling his wrist, asking him questions
regarding his health, with a gentle kindness which goes farther to win
confidence and affection than the cold bestowal of the greatest
benefits.
"You are not well; you must be cared for, my boy. I think that I could
manage to get you into an hospital; you would have every comfort there."
"Please, sir," began Bob, and stopped; he looked at his brother,
and then raised his earnest eyes to the face of his new friend, and
gathering courage from the kind glance which he met, faltered forth,
"Please, sir, would they take Billy too?"
The gentleman shook his head.
"Then-- please, sir, I'd a much rather stay here: we han't never been
parted, Billy and me."
I saw Neddy eagerly draw his father aside, very near to my hiding-place
behind the canvass, so that I could hear some of his words, though they
were only spoken in a whisper.
"Could we not get a lodging?-- see here!" He pulled something out of his
pocket, and spoke still lower; but I caught a sentence here and there:
"My Christmas-box, and what aunt gave me, would it be enough?" his voice
was very earnest indeed.
I saw something which reminded me of sunshine steal over the father's
face as he looked down on his blue-eyed boy. Then he replied in a quiet
tone, "Yes, enough to provide one till warmer weather comes. I would
myself see that food and needful comforts were not wanting."
"And, papa, I have an old suit of clothes; that poor boy is dying with
cold;-- just see, his jacket will hardly hold together. Might I give him
my old suit, papa?"
I read assent in the gentleman's smile; then, turning to the poor
motherless children, he told them that he could not leave them one night
longer in that miserable place; that he would take them at once to the
dwelling of an honest widow whom he knew, who would watch over the sick,
and take care of the young, for she herself had once been a mother.
Poor Bob, weakened and exhausted by poor living, looked bewildered at
the words, as though he scarcely understood them, but was ready, without
question or hesitation, to go wherever his benefactor should guide him.
One only doubt seemed to linger on his mind. "Shall I," said he, in a
hesitating tone, "shall I still be able to go to my school?-- 'cause I
shouldn't like to be a-leaving it now!"
"Assuredly you shall attend it, my boy, as soon as your health will
permit. I have no means of permanently assisting you; my stay in England
is but short; I can only give you help for a time. But at the school you
will learn to help yourself, and soon, I hope, be independent of any
human aid. I should do you an injury, and not a kindness, were I to
teach you to rest on others for those means of living which a brave and
honest boy desires to earn for himself. Now let us go on to the
comfortable lodging which I mentioned."
Billy uttered an exclamation of childish delight, as though the word had
called up before his mind's eye a warm hearth, a blazing fire, and
smoking viands on a table beside him.
They all now quitted the place, Neddy appearing if possible more happy
than the delighted little child. But Billy was the last to leave the
shed, in which he had passed so many days of suffering and want. He
lingered for a moment at the door, and looked back with a pensive
expression.
"You never wish to see that place again, I am sure?" cried Neddy.
"No, not the place; but-- but I should ha' just liked a last peep of the
pretty spotted rat who used to lead the old blind un by the stick!"