ELFIE'S SIXPENCE.
SUSIE'S suspense as to the result of the landlord's visit came to an
end sooner than she expected. He called earlier than usual to-day,
and the poor girl's last faint hope that Elfie would be able to earn
twopence and get back before he came was cut off as she heard his
halting footsteps coming up the stairs. He knocked at the opposite door
first, and Susie hoped he would be detained there, and she crept to the
top of the stairs and looked over, in the hope of seeing Elfie coming
up.
But Elfie was not to be seen; and with a sinking heart, Susie went
back and took down the tin box, and then sat down to her work again,
waiting for the door to open and Elfie to come in, for somehow she had
persuaded herself that she would come in yet. But in a minute or two,
the opposite door closed, and then there was a knock at her own. Susie
could hardly walk across the room to open it, she trembled so violently.
"Good morning," said the landlord pleasantly, as he stepped in and
looked round the room. "You keep the place nice and clean," he said
approvingly. "But why don't you have a fire, child? It's cold to-day,
and you sitting at your sewing."
"Yes, sir," said Susie meekly, glancing at the empty grate, and hardly
knowing how to tell him she had not been able to make up the rent.
"You ought to have a fire," went on the man, not noticing her
confusion, and wishing to say something kind to the poor little orphan.
"You ought to have a fire this cold day; every other room in the house
has one."
"Have they, sir?" said Susie, thinking the man was displeased. "I'm
very sorry I can't get one too; but I don't think the place will get
damp—we have one sometimes."
"The place get damp!" repeated the landlord. "What do you mean, child?"
"Please, sir, I thought you was afraid the room would spoil," said
Susie, still dreading to make the revelation that she had only tenpence
of the rent.
"Spoil!" repeated the man. And he looked round on the patched,
discoloured walls, and laughed. "Why, child, you keep your room nicer
than any other in the house. I was thinking you must be cold."
"I don't mind that much, sir, if I can only stay here," said Susie;
"but—but please, sir, I've only got tenpence of the rent to-day. I hope
you won't turn us out for the other twopence. I'll try and pay it next
week, sir," she added.
The man took the halfpence and counted them, and then looked at the
little pale, pinched face before him. He loved money, and was used to
scenes of misery, but was not quite without human feeling, and Susie's
mute distress was almost more than he could look upon unmoved. "Who
told you I should turn you out, child?" he said.
"No one, but—but I was afraid you would if I didn't keep the rent
paid," said Susie.
"Yes, to be sure—of course I should—I can't do without my rent," said
the landlord; "but still, in the case of a little girl that's honest
and tries to do her best, I shouldn't be hard on her for twopence. But
you mustn't let the others know I said this," he added quickly.
"No, sir; and I'll try to pay it next week," answered Susie with a sigh
of relief; as the man turned towards the door.
"Good-bye, child," said the man, still toying with the halfpence he
held in his hand. Susie thought he had gone, and took up her work
again, but the next minute he was back.
"Never mind about the twopence next week," he said in a hurried
whisper: "and look here, child; I don't like to think of you sitting
here without a fire: go and buy some wood and coals with this." And as
he spoke he laid fourpence on the table, and then hurried to the door
again.
Susie could not thank him, she could only look her dumb surprise, and
then burst into tears. While he stumped downstairs, wondering what
could have made him give back to the girl half a week's rent.
Susie knew how it was, although her landlord did not, and still
sobbing, she knelt down to thank God for his loving care of her. As
soon as her tears had subsided a little, and she could smile at the
thought of her anticipated trouble that never came, she got up and went
out to buy some wood and coals to light a fire; for she ought to do
this, she thought, as the money had been given her for that purpose.
She wanted to surprise Elfie, too, by getting up a bright blaze before
she came in; so that she was rather disappointed, when she returned
with her load, to see Elfie sitting down by the empty grate.
The coals were heavy, although there was only a small quantity, and
Susie was panting for breath as she pushed open the door; but Elfie did
not lift her head from her knees, where she had buried her face, as she
sat crouching on the floor.
"What's the matter?" asked Susie in some alarm, as she lifted the coals
on to the hearth.
"Nothing," replied Elfie, without raising her head.
Susie thought she knew what it was. "Look up, Elfie," she said, in a
tone of gladness: "the landlord's been here, and it's all right now;
and see what I've got."
Elfie slowly raised her head, but did not look at Susie or the bag of
coals. "The landlord's been here," she slowly repeated; "then I'm too
late after all;" and her head went down lower than before.
Susie was puzzled, until looking round she saw a little pile of
halfpence on the table. "O Elfie, where did you get all that money?"
she said in a tone of joyful surprise, as she sprang over to count it.
"Sixpence! O Elfie, how rich we are! And I've just been to buy some
coals to make a fire. But why don't you look up?" she added, as she
noticed that her companion's head was still bowed upon her knees.
But Elfie did not move, did not attempt to lift her head, but grumbled
out something Susie could not understand.
"Are you ill, Elfie?" asked Susie in alarm.
"No, no; leave me alone, and light the fire," said the girl, shaking
off the hand that had been laid upon her shoulder.
"I know what it is: you're sorry you did not get home in time to pay
the landlord. But it doesn't matter one bit; he was very kind, and
won't turn us out, and we ain't to pay the twopence next week. Wouldn't
you like to know how I got the coals?" said Susie.
"How did you get 'em?" said Elfie, just lifting her head for a minute.
"Hold your head up, then, and tell me how you got all that money on the
table first," said Susie laughing.
But Elfie's head went down again at once. "I don't want to know about
the coals," she said; "you can keep your secret and I'll keep mine."
"But it isn't a secret, Elfie. I'll tell you all about it," said Susie,
beginning to place the wood in the grate, for she could not afford to
waste her time.
"I don't want to know," replied Elfie. "Perhaps the angels your mother
talked about brought you the money," she added.
"Did the angels bring yours?" asked Susie.
For answer, Elfie started from her seat, gave Susie a violent blow on
her back, and rushed downstairs and out into the street.
As soon as Susie could recover from the blow, she ran out of the room
calling, "Elfie! Elfie!" But Elfie was half-way up the lane by that
time, and did not hear the call; and if she had, she would probably
have run away the faster. When Susie went back she looked at the money
that still lay on the table, wondering what could have made Elfie so
cross. She could not understand this sudden change in her behaviour at
all; she had always been so kind to her before, and it seemed hard to
believe that it was Elfie who had struck her now.
After watching the fire for a minute or two, she washed her hands
and sat down to work again, feeling very sad and uncomfortable, and
wondering when Elfie would come back. Then she wondered whether she had
had anything to eat to-day; she herself was hungry, and yet she had
eaten a slice of bread, and had not been running about the streets as
Elfie had.
"Oh, that has made her cross. She was so hungry, and yet she would not
spend any money till she had brought it home, and then it was too late
for the landlord. Poor Elfie! But never mind, we'll have a nice, real
tea to-day." And as she spoke, Susie put on the tea-kettle, and then
went out to buy the things for the real tea.
Just as it was getting dusk she got the tea ready, and then sat down to
wait for Elfie's coming. But an hour passed and no one came; and then,
feeling faint and almost sick with hunger, she took her tea by herself,
feeling sadly disappointed that Elfie had not come home.
Elfie did not make her appearance until bed-time, and then she crept
in, looking as cross and sullen as when she went out. Susie had
forgotten her unkindness of the afternoon, and jumped up at once to
meet her.
"O Elfie, why didn't you come before?" she said. "I got such a nice tea
ready for you. But never mind; I've kept the teapot on the hob, so it's
hot now, I daresay;" and she went to pour it out.
"I don't want any tea," said Elfie. "Where's the money I left on the
table?"
"Did you want it? O Elfie, I've spent it," said Susie in dismay.
"Oh, it don't matter," said Elfie carelessly, beginning to take off
some of her clothes, ready to go to bed.
"Won't you have some tea? Oh, do, Elfie," said Susie. "I'm sure you
must be hungry. See, I've cut some bread for you, all ready."
But Elfie shook her head. "I don't want it," she said; "I'm not
hungry." And in spite of all Susie's coaxing, she went to bed without
touching a bit.
Susie had a great mind to cry. She felt so vexed; and she thought Elfie
was cross now because she had spent the sixpence. She could not work
any longer; so, putting out the candle, she undressed and crept into
bed beside Elfie, who pretended to be fast asleep.
Susie found out, at last, that she was awake, and creeping closer to
her she said, "I'm so sorry I spent the sixpence, Elfie; it seems so
greedy of me."
"Bother the sixpence! Don't talk about that any more," said Elfie
crossly.
"What shall we talk about?" said Susie. "I'm not at all sleepy, and I
wanted to talk to you, to tell you how good 'our Father' had been to us
to-day," she added in a whisper.
Elfie flounced herself over, pulling all the bed-clothes off Susie.
"You're always talking about that," she said crossly.
Susie did not know what to say, and she felt so hurt that she burst
into tears.
For a few minutes Elfie lay quite still; but at length she turned round
and put the clothes over Susie's shoulders, saying, "There, don't cry,
Susie. I'm such a wretch. I'll go away to-morrow."
But Susie's tears only fell the faster. "O Elfie, what have I done? I'm
so sorry I spent the sixpence; but don't go away to-morrow, and I'll
work and get you another." And she threw her arms round her companion's
neck, and kissed her.
Elfie was crying too now. "I'd better go away, Susie," she said. "I'm a
bad, wicked girl, and you'd better not love me any more."
"But I do love you," sobbed Susie. "O Elfie, don't go away and leave
me!"
"But you can't love me now, Susie! I hit you this afternoon," said
Elfie through her tears.
"I made you cross first. O Elfie, I did not think you wanted that
sixpence for anything, and it was greedy of me to spend it!"
"No, it wasn't," said Elfie; "but don't talk about that any more. I
want to forget all about it."
"Why?" asked Susie. "I like to think how I get my money, 'specially
when somebody's kind, like the landlord was to-day. Don't you think it
was God put it into his heart to give me fourpence, and not be cross
about the rent?"
"I suppose it was," assented Elfie; "but I don't want to think about
God any more, so don't talk about him."
"Don't want to think about God!" repeated Susie. "O Elfie, and you'd
begun to say 'our Father,' and liked to hear me talk about the Lord
Jesus being a poor man."
"Well, I don't want to hear any more about him; and I shan't say 'our
Father' any more. He ain't my Father now," said Elfie doggedly.
"Why not? O Elfie! And he's been so good to us to-day," said Susie.
"Yes, I suppose he is good; and he makes me feel bad, and I never did
feel so till to-day, so I'm going to forget him."
"O Elfie! And make him feel so sad and sorry about you," said Susie.
"Now, don't talk like that, or else I shall cry," said Elfie with a
stifled sob. "I don't want you to love me now."
"But I can't help loving you—I will love you," said Susie passionately.
And instead of pushing her away, Elfie returned her caresses, and the
two girls cried for some time, without speaking a word to each other.
At length Elfie said, "It makes me glad and sorry too, Susie."
"What does?" asked Susie.
"That you love me so. I didn't think you would after I hit you this
afternoon. I'm so sorry I did it."
"Oh, never mind; I know you didn't mean to hurt me," said Susie
cheerfully. "I know you loved me all the time."
"Yes, I do love you, Susie; but somehow I wish you didn't love me now,"
said Elfie with a deep sigh.
"Why?" asked Susie, in a tone of surprise.
"Because it ain't no good loving me; I'm bad. I didn't know I was till
to-day; but I am, and you'd better not love me any more. God don't, I
know," said Elfie.
"Yes, he does," said Susie quickly. "He loves you, Elfie, more than I
can. He is—"
"There, hold your tongue. I don't want to hear about him," interrupted
Elfie.
Susie was puzzled, but remained silent for a minute or two, and then
asked—"Where have you been to-day, Elfie?"
"Oh, lots of places," she answered shortly. "But don't ask about that;
tell me what you've been doing."
"Working, to be sure," answered Susie. There was nothing to tell beyond
this. Her life was summed up in these words, for there was no change in
it, save the weekly walk to take her work home.
Elfie's, on the contrary, was full of change, amid all its sameness in
wandering; for there was constantly something happening, either in the
streets or the market; and wherever a crowd collected, Elfie was sure
to be; and from the remarks of the bystanders, she learned all that had
happened, and was delighted to tell Susie when she returned home, so
that her unwillingness to speak of this now was the more remarkable.
There seemed nothing they could talk about after Susie had given an
account of the landlord's visit, and so they soon dropped asleep—Susie
hoping that Ellie would tell her all about the sixpence the next day,
and Elfie wishing Susie would soon forget all about it.
A fresh disappointment as the next morning. She had resolved to get
up early, and prepare a "real breakfast," that Elfie might have some
before she went out. But Elfie woke first, and went off without waking
her, or taking any of the bread that had been cut the night before;
and, contrary to her usual practice, she stayed out the whole of the
day.