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twg_000012583600 | my card to leave, but you just tell him, John--is it, or Thomas?--Ah! Thomas. I knowed it couldn't 'elp to be one or t'other;--you just tell your master that my name is Robert, better known as Bobby, Frog. But I've lots of aliases, if that name don't please 'im. Good-bye, Thomas. Farewell, and if for ever, then-- you k... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583601 | rest o' the quotation, if your eddication's not bin neglected, w'ich is probable it was. Oh! by the way. This 'assik is the gift of the 'ouse-maid? You observe the answer, cabby, in case you and I may differ about it 'ereafter." "Yes," said the amused butler, "a gift from Jessie." "Ah!--jus' so. An' she's tender-'earte... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583602 | 'er tother name? Summers, eh? Vell, it's prettier than Vinters. Tell 'er I'll not forget 'er. Now, cabman--'ome!" A few minutes more, and Bobby Frog was on his way to the mansion in Whitechapel, highly delighted with his recent feast, but suffering extremely from his broken limb. Meanwhile, the brown pony--having passe... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583603 | it, and waving both arms till it was close on him, when he stepped quickly out of its way--eluded a dray-man, and entered on a fine sweep of street, where there seemed to be no obstruction worth mentioning. By that time it had left the agonised father far behind. The day was fine; the air bracing. The utmost strength o... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583604 | poor little Diana, and she applied it well, made no impression whatever on the pony's tough mouth. Influences of every kind were favourable. On the illogical principle, probably, that being "in for a penny" justified being "in for a pound," the pony laid himself out for a glorious run. He warmed to his work, caused the... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583605 | the clothes-basket to advance with irregular bounds and swayings as he scampered along, driving many little dogs wild with delight, and two or three cats mad with fear. Gradually he drew towards the more populous streets, and here, of course, the efforts on the part of the public to arrest him became more frequent, als... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583606 | successful. At last an inanimate object effected what man and boy had failed to accomplish. In a wild effort to elude a demonstrative cabman near the corner of one of the main thoroughfares, the brown pony brought the wheels of the vehicle into collision with a lamp-post. That lamp-post went down before the shock like ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583607 | before the sickle. The front wheels doubled up into a sudden embrace, broke loose, and went across the road, one into a greengrocer's shop, the other into a chemist's window. Thus diversely end many careers that begin on a footing of equality! The hind-wheels went careering along the road like a new species of bicycle,... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583608 | donkey-cart, while the basket chariot rolled itself violently round the lamp-post, like a shattered remnant, as if resolved, before perishing, to strangle the author of all the mischief. As to the pony, it stopped, and seemed surprised at first by the unexpected finale, but the look quickly changed--or appeared to chan... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583609 | But what of the fair little charioteer? Truly, in regard to her, a miracle, or something little short of one, had occurred. The doctrine that extremes meet contains much truth in it--truth which is illustrated and exemplified more frequently, we think, than is generally supposed. A tremendous accident is often much les... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583610 | a slight one. In little Diana's case, the extremes had met, and the result was absolute safety. She was shot out of her basket carriage after the manner of a sky-rocket, but the impulse was so effective that, instead of causing her to fall on her head and break her pretty little neck, it made her perform a complete som... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583611 | and alight upon her feet. Moreover, the spot on which she alighted was opportune, as well as admirably suited to the circumstances. At the moment, ignorant of what was about to happen, police-constable Number --we are not quite sure of what division--in all the plenitude of power, and blue, and six-feet-two, approached... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583612 | angles to the one down which our little heroine had flown. He was a superb specimen of humanity, this constable, with a chest and shoulders like Hercules, and the figure of Apollo. He turned the corner just as the child had completed her somersault, and received her two little feet fairly in the centre of his broad bre... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583613 | flat on his back more effectively than could have been done by the best prize-fighter in England! Number proved a most effectual buffer, for Di, after planting her blow on his chest, sat plump down on his stomach, off which she sprang in an agony of consternation, exclaiming-- "Oh! I have killed him! I've killed him!" ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583614 | "No, my little lady," said Number , as he rose with one or two coughs and replaced his helmet, "you've not quite done for me, though you've come nearer the mark than any _man_ has ever yet accomplished. Come, now, what can I do for you? You're not hurt, I hope?" This sally was received with a laugh, almost amounting | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583615 | to a cheer, by the half-horrified crowd which had quickly assembled to witness, as it expected, a fatal accident. "Hurt? oh! no, I'm not hurt," exclaimed Di, while tears still converted her eyes into blue lakelets as she looked anxiously up in the face of Number ; "but I'm quite sure you must be hurt--awfully. I'm _so_... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583616 | am, for I didn't mean to knock you down." This also was received by the crowd with a hearty laugh, while Number sought to comfort the child by earnestly assuring her that he was not hurt in the least--only a little stunned at first, but that was quite gone. "Wot does she mean by knockin' of 'im down?" asked a | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583617 | small butcher's boy, who had come on the scene just too late, of a small baker's boy who had, happily, been there from the beginning. "She means wot she says," replied the small baker's boy with the dignified reticence of superior knowledge, "she knocked the constable down." "Wot! a leetle gurl knock a six-foot bobby d... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583618 | call to b'lieve it unless you like," replied the baker's boy, with a look of pity at the unbelieving butcher, "but she did it, though--an' that's six month with 'ard labour, if it ain't five year." At this point the crowd opened up to let a maniac enter. He was breathless, hatless, moist, and frantic. "My child! my dar... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583619 | dear Di!" he gasped. "Papa!" responded Diana, with a little scream, and, leaping into his arms, grasped him in a genuine hug. "Oh! I say," whispered the small butcher, "it's a melly-drammy--all for nuffin!" "My!" responded the small baker, with a solemn look, "won't the Lord left-tenant be down on 'em for play-actin' w... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583620 | killed?" inquired Sir Richard, recovering himself. "Not in the least, sir. 'Ere 'e is, sir; all alive an' kickin'," answered the small butcher, delighted to have the chance of making himself offensively useful, "but the hinsurance offices wouldn't 'ave the clo'se-baskit at no price. Shall I order up the remains of your... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583621 | dead," said Diana, looking hastily up, "but this policeman was nearly killed, and _I_ did it! He saved my life, papa." A chorus of voices here explained to Sir Richard how Number had come up in the nick of time to receive the flying child upon his bosom. "I am deeply grateful to you," said the knight, turning to the | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583622 | constable, and extending his hand, which the latter shook modestly while disclaiming any merit for having merely performed his duty--he might say, involuntarily. "Will you come to my house?" said Sir Richard. "Here is my card. I should like to see you again, and pray, see that some one looks after my pony and--" "And t... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583623 | butcher, seeing that Sir Richard hesitated. "Be so good as to call a cab," said Sir Richard in a general way to any one who chose to obey. "Here you are, sir!" cried a peculiarly sharp cabby, who, correctly judging from the state of affairs that his services would be required, had drawn near to bide his time. Sir Richa... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583624 | and his little daughter got in and were driven home, leaving Number to look after the pony and the remains. Thus curiously were introduced to each other some of the characters in our tale. CHAPTER TWO. THE IRRESISTIBLE POWER OF LOVE. Need we remark that there was a great deal of embracing on the part of Di and her nurs... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583625 | when the former returned home? The child was an affectionate creature as well as passionate. The nurse, Mrs Screwbury, was also affectionate without being passionate. Poor Diana had never known a mother's love or care; but good, steady, stout Mrs Screwbury did what in her lay to fill the place of mother. Sir Richard fi... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583626 | much as a lamp-post might have done had it owned a child. He illuminated her to some extent-- explained things in general, stiffly, and shed a feeble ray around himself; but his light did not extend far. He was proud of her, however, and very fond of her--when good. When not good, he was--or rather had been--in the hab... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583627 | dismissing her to the nursery. Nevertheless, the child exercised very considerable and ever-increasing influence over her father; for, although stiff, the knight was by no means destitute of natural affection, and sometimes observed, with moist eyes, strong traces of resemblance to his lost wife in the beautiful child.... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583628 | and was obviously on the high road to abject slavery. "Papa," said Di, while they were at luncheon that day, not long after the accident, "I _am_ so sorry for that poor policeman. It seems such a dreadful thing to have actually jumped upon him! and oh! you should have heard his poor head hit the pavement, and seen his | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583629 | pretty helmet go spinning along like a boy's top, ever so far. I wonder it didn't kill him. I'm _so_ sorry." Di emphasised her sorrow by laughing, for she had a keen sense of the ludicrous, and the memory of the spinning helmet was strong upon her just then. "It must indeed have been an unpleasant blow," replied Sir Ri... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583630 | gravely, "but then, dear, you couldn't help it, you know--and I dare say he is none the worse for it now. Men like him are not easily injured. I fear we cannot say as much for the boy who was holding the pony." "Oh! I quite forgot about him," exclaimed Di; "the naughty boy! he wouldn't let go the pony's | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583631 | reins when I bid him, but I saw he tumbled down when we set off." "Yes, he has been somewhat severely punished, I fear, for his disobedience. His leg had been broken. Is it not so, Balls?" "Yes, sir," replied the butler, "'e 'as 'ad 'is--" Balls got no farther, for Diana, who had been struck dumb for the moment | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583632 | by the news, recovered herself. "His leg broken!" she exclaimed with a look of consternation; "Oh! the poor, poor boy!--the dear boy! and it was me did that too, as well as knocking down the poor policeman!" There is no saying to what lengths the remorseful child would have gone in the way of self-condemnation if her f... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583633 | turned her thoughts from herself by asking what had been done for the boy. "We sent 'im 'ome, sir, in a cab." "I'm afraid that was a little too prompt," returned the knight thoughtfully. "A broken leg requires careful treatment, I suppose. You should have had him into the house, and sent for a doctor." Balls coughed. H... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583634 | chagrined to find that the violation of his own humane feelings had been needless, and that his attempt to do as he thought his master would have wished was in vain. "I thought, Sir Richard, that you didn't like the lower orders to go about the 'ouse more--" Again little Di interrupted the butler by asking excitedly wh... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583635 | home was. "In the neighbour'ood of W'itechapel, Miss Di." "Then, papa, we will go straight off to see him," said the child, in the tone of one whose mind is fully made up. "You and I shall go together-- won't we? good papa!" "That will do, Balls, you may go. No, my dear Di, I think we had better not. | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583636 | I will write to one of the city missionaries whom I know, and ask him to--" "No, but, papa--dear papa, we _must_ go. The city missionary could never say how very, _very_ sorry I am that he should have broken his leg while helping me. And then I should _so_ like to sit by him and tell him stories, and | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583637 | give him his soup and gruel, and read to him. Poor, _poor_ boy, we _must_ go, papa, won't you?" "Not to-day, dear. It is impossible to go to-day. There, now, don't begin to cry. Perhaps--perhaps to-morrow--but think, my love; you have no idea how dirty--how _very_ nasty--the places are in which our lower orders live." ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583638 | Di eagerly. "Haven't I seen our nursery on cleaning days?" A faint flicker of a smile passed over the knight's countenance. "True, darling, but the places are far, far dirtier than that. Then the smells. Oh! they are very dreadful--" "What--worse than _we_ have when there's cabbage for dinner?" "Yes, much worse than th... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583639 | go to see the boy--the poor, _poor_ boy, in spite of dirt and smells. And then, you know--let me up on your knee and I'll tell you all about it. There! Well, then, you know, I'd tidy the room up, and even wash it a little. Oh, you can't think how nicely I washed up my doll's room--her corner, you | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583640 | know,--that day when I spilt all her soup in trying to feed her, and then, while trying to wipe it up, I accidentally burst her, and all her inside came out--the sawdust, I mean. It was the worst mess I ever made, but I cleaned it up as well as Jessie herself could have done--so nurse said." "But the messes | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583641 | down in Whitechapel are much worse than you have described, dear," expostulated the parent, who felt that his powers of resistance were going. "So much the better, papa," replied Di, kissing her sire's lethargic visage. "I should like _so_ much to try if I could clean up something worse than my doll's room. And you've ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583642 | `perhaps,'" returned Sir Richard quickly. "Well, that's the same thing; and now that it's all nicely settled, I'll go and see nurse. Good-bye, papa." "Good-bye, dear," returned the knight, resigning himself to his fate and the newspaper. CHAPTER THREE. POVERTY MANAGES TO BOARD OUT HER INFANT FOR NOTHING. On the night o... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583643 | a woman, dressed in "unwomanly rags" crept out of the shadow of the houses near London Bridge. She was a thin, middle-aged woman, with a countenance from which sorrow, suffering, and sin had not been able to obliterate entirely the traces of beauty. She carried a bundle in her arms which was easily recognisable as a ba... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583644 | and affectionate manner in which the woman's thin, out-spread fingers grasped it. Hurrying on to the bridge till she reached the middle of one of the arches, she paused and looked over. The Thames was black and gurgling, for it was intensely dark, and the tide half ebb at the time. The turbid waters chafed noisily on t... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583645 | as if the sins and sorrows of the great city had been somehow communicated to them. But the distance from the parapet to the surface of the stream was great. It seemed awful in the woman's eyes. She shuddered and drew back. "Oh! for courage--only for one minute!" she murmured, clasping the bundle closer to her breast. ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583646 | off a corner of the scanty rag which she called a shawl, and revealed a small and round, yet exceedingly thin face, the black eyes of which seemed to gaze in solemn wonder at the scene of darkness visible which was revealed. The woman stood between two lamps in the darkest place she could find, but enough of light reac... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583647 | her to glitter in the baby's solemn eyes as they met her gaze, and it made a pitiful attempt to smile as it recognised its mother. "God help me! I can't," muttered the woman with a shiver, as if an ice-block had touched her heart. She drew the rag hastily over the baby's head again, pressed it closer to her | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583648 | breast, retraced her steps, and dived into the shadows from which she had emerged. This was one of the "lower orders" to whom Sir Richard Brandon had such an objection, whom he found it, he said, so difficult to deal with, (no wonder, for he never tried to deal with them at all, in any sense worthy of the name), | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583649 | and whom it was, he said, useless to assist, because all _he_ could do in such a vast accumulation of poverty would be a mere drop in the bucket. Hence Sir Richard thought it best to keep the drop in his pocket where it could be felt and do good--at least to himself, rather than dissipate it in an almost | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583650 | empty bucket. The bucket, however, was not quite empty--thanks to a few thousands of people who differed from the knight upon that point. The thin woman hastened through the streets as regardless of passers-by as they were of her, until she reached the neighbourhood of Commercial Street, Spitalfields. Here she paused a... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583651 | main thoroughfare, and the spot on which she stood was dimly lighted. Whatever she looked or waited for, did not, however, soon appear, for she stood under a lamp-post, muttering to herself, "I _must_ git rid of it. Better to do so than see it starved to death before my eyes." Presently a foot-fall was heard, and a man... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583652 | near. The woman gazed intently into his face. It was not a pleasant face. There was a scowl on it. She drew back and let him pass. Then several women passed, but she took no notice of them. Then another man appeared. His face seemed a jolly one. The woman stepped forward at once and confronted him. "Please, sir," she | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583653 | began, but the man was too sharp for her. "Come now--you've brought out that baby on purpose to humbug people with it. Don't fancy you'll throw dust in _my_ eyes. I'm too old a cock for that. Don't you know that you're breaking the law by begging?" "I'm _not_ begging," retorted the woman, almost fiercely. "Oh! indeed. ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583654 | stop me, then?" "I merely wished to ask if your name is Thompson." "Ah hem!" ejaculated the man with a broad grin, "well no, madam, my name is _not_ Thompson." "Well, then," rejoined the woman, still indignantly, "you may move on." She had used an expression all too familiar to herself, and the man, obeying the order w... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583655 | and a mocking laugh, disappeared like those who had gone before him. For some time no one else appeared save a policeman. When he approached, the woman went past him down the street, as if bent on some business, but when he was out of sight she returned to the old spot, which was near the entrance to an alley. | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583656 | At last the woman's patience was rewarded by the sight of a burly little elderly man, whose face of benignity was unmistakably genuine. Remembering the previous man's reference to the baby, she covered it up carefully, and held it more like a bundle. Stepping up to the newcomer at once, she put the same question as to ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583657 | asked if he lived in Russell Square. "No, my good woman," replied the burly little man, with a look of mingled surprise and pity, "my name is _not_ Thompson. It is Twitter-- Samuel Twitter, of Twitter, Slime and--, but," he added, checking himself, under a sudden and rare impulse of prudence, "why do you ask my name an... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583658 | woman gave an almost hysterical laugh at having been so successful in her somewhat clumsy scheme, and, without uttering another word, darted down the alley. She passed rapidly round by a back way to another point of the same street she had left--well ahead of the spot where she had stood so long and so patiently that n... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583659 | suddenly uncovered the baby's face and kissed it passionately for a few moments. Then, wrapping it in the ragged shawl, with its little head out, she laid it on the middle of the footpath full in the light of a lamp, and retired to await the result. When the woman rushed away, as above related, Mr Samuel Twitter stood ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583660 | some minutes rooted to the spot, lost in amazement. He was found in that condition by the returning policeman. "Constable," said he, cocking his hat to one side the better to scratch his bald head, "there are strange people in this region." "Indeed there are, sir." "Yes, but I mean _very_ strange people." "Well, sir, i... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583661 | I won't deny that some of them are _very_ strange." "Yes, well--good-night, constable," said Mr Twitter, moving slowly forward in a mystified state of mind, while the guardian of the night continued his rounds, thinking to himself that he had just parted from one of the very strangest of the people. Suddenly Samuel Twi... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583662 | there lay the small baby gazing at him with its solemn eyes, apparently quite indifferent to the hardness and coldness of its bed of stone. "Abandoned!" gasped the burly little man. Whether Mr Twitter referred to the infant's moral character, or to its being shamefully forsaken, we cannot now prove, but he instantly ca... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583663 | gazed at it. Possibly his gaze may have been too intense, for the mild little creature opened a small mouth that bore no proportion whatever to the eyes, and attempted to cry, but the attempt was a failure. It had not strength to cry. The burly little man's soul was touched to the centre by the sight. He kissed the | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583664 | baby's forehead, pressed it to his ample breast, and hurried away. If he had taken time to think he might have gone to a police-office, or a night refuge, or some such haven of rest for the weary, but when Twitter's feelings were touched he became a man of impulse. He did not take time to think--except to the extent | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583665 | that, on reaching the main thoroughfare, he hailed a cab and was driven home. The poor mother had followed him with the intention of seeing him home. Of course the cab put an end to that. She felt comparatively easy, however, knowing, as she did, that her child was in the keeping of "Twitter, Slime and ---." That was q... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583666 | enough to enable her to trace Mr Twitter out. Comforting herself as well as she could with this reflection, she sat down in a dark corner on a cold door-step, and, covering her face with both hands, wept as though her heart would break. Gradually her sobs subsided, and, rising, she hurried away, shivering with cold, fo... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583667 | dress was a poor protection against the night chills, and her ragged shawl was--gone with the baby. In a few minutes she reached a part of the Whitechapel district where some of the deepest poverty and wretchedness in London is to be found. Turning into a labyrinth of small streets and alleys, she paused in the neighbo... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583668 | in which was her home--if such it could be called. "Is it worth while going back to him?" she muttered. "He nearly killed baby, and it wouldn't take much to make him kill me. And oh! he was so different--once!" While she stood irresolute, the man of whom she spoke chanced to turn the corner, and ran against her, somewh... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583669 | roughly. "Hallo! is that you?" he demanded, in tones that told too clearly where he had been spending the night. "Yes, Ned, it's me. I was just thinking about going home." "Home, indeed--'stime to b'goin' home. Where'v you bin? The babby 'll 'v bin squallin' pretty stiff by this time." "No fear of baby now," returned t... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583670 | "it's gone." "Gone!" almost shouted the husband. "You haven't murdered it, have you?" "No, but I've put it in safe keeping, where _you_ can't get at it, and, now I know that, I don't care what you do to _me_." "Ha! we'll see about that. Come along." He seized the woman by the arm and hurried her towards their dwelling. | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583671 | It was little better than a cellar, the door being reached by a descent of five or six much-worn steps. To the surprise of the couple the door, which was usually shut at that hour, stood partly open, and a bright light shone within. "Wastin' coal and candle," growled the man with an angry oath, as he approached. "Hetty... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583672 | use to be so extravagant," remarked the woman, in some surprise. As she spoke the door was flung wide open, and an overgrown but very handsome girl peered out. "Oh! father, I thought it was your voice," she said. "Mother, is that you? Come in, quick. Here's Bobby brought home in a cab with a broken leg." On hearing thi... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583673 | the man's voice softened, and, entering the room, he went up to a heap of straw in one corner whereon our little friend Bobby Frog--the street-Arab--lay. "Hallo! Bobby, wot's wrong with 'ee? You ain't used to come to grief," said the father, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder, and giving him a rough shake. Things of... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583674 | they seem." The shake was the man's mode of expressing sympathy, for he was fond of his son, regarding him, with some reason, as a most hopeful pupil in the ways of wickedness. "It's o' no use, father," said the boy, drawing his breath quickly and knitting his brows, "you can't stir me up with a long pole now. I'm | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583675 | past that." "What! have 'ee bin runned over?" "No--on'y run down, or knocked down." "Who did it? On'y give me his name an' address, an' as sure as my name's Ned I'll--" He finished the sentence with a sufficiently expressive scowl and clenching of a huge fist, which had many a time done great execution in the prize rin... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583676 | wasn't a he, father, it was a she." "Well, no matter, if I on'y had my fingers on her windpipe I'd squeeze it summat." "If you did I'd bang your nose! She didn't go for to do it a-purpose, you old grampus," retorted Bobby, intending the remark to be taken as a gentle yet affectionate reproof. "A doctor's bin an' | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583677 | set my leg," continued the boy, "an' made it as stiff as a poker wi' what 'e calls splints. He says I won't be able to go about for ever so many weeks." "An' who's to feed you, I wonder, doorin' them weeks? An' who sent for the doctor? Was it him as supplied the fire an' candle to-night?" "No, | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583678 | father, it was me," answered Hetty, who was engaged in stirring something in a small saucepan, the loose handle of which was attached to its battered body by only one rivet; the other rivet had given way on an occasion when Ned Frog sent it flying through the doorway after his retreating wife. "You see I was paid my wa... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583679 | to-night, so I could afford it, as well as to buy some coal and a candle, for the doctor said Bobby must be kept warm." "Afford it!" exclaimed Ned, in rising wrath, "how can 'ee say you can afford it w'en I 'aven't had enough grog to _half_ screw me, an' not a brown left. Did the doctor ask a | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583680 | fee?" "No, father, I offered him one, but he wouldn't take it." "Ah--very good on 'im! I wonder them fellows has the cheek to ask fees for on'y givin' advice. W'y, I'd give advice myself all day long at a penny an hour, an' think myself well off too if I got that--better off than them as got the advice | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583681 | anyhow. What are you sittin' starin' at an' sulkin' there for?" This last remark was addressed gruffly to Mrs Frog, who, during the previous conversation, had seated herself on a low three-legged stool, and, clasping her hands over her knees, gazed at the dirty blank walls in blanker despair. The poor woman realised th... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583682 | did. As a bird-fancier he contributed little, almost nothing, to the general fund on which this family subsisted. He was a huge, powerful fellow, and had various methods of obtaining money--some obvious and others mysterious--but nearly all his earnings went to the gin-palace, for Ned was a man of might, and could stan... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583683 | worked, perhaps we should say slaved, for a firm which paid her one shilling a week, could not manage to find food for them all. Mrs Frog herself with her infant to care for, had found it hard work at any time to earn a few pence, and now Bobby's active little limbs were reduced to inaction, converting him into | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583684 | a consumer instead of a producer. In short, the glaring fact that the family expenses would be increased while the family income was diminished, stared Mrs Frog as blankly in the face as she stared at the dirty blank wall. And her case was worse, even, than people in better circumstances might imagine, for the family l... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583685 | hand to mouth that there was no time even to think when a difficulty arose or disaster befell. They rented their room from a man who styled it a furnished apartment, in virtue of a rickety table, a broken chair, a worn-out sheet or two, a dilapidated counterpane, four ragged blankets, and the infirm saucepan before men... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583686 | articles of cracked or broken crockery. For this accommodation the landlord charged ninepence per day, which sum had to be paid _every night_ before the family was allowed to retire to rest! In the event of failure to pay they would have been turned out into the street at once, and the door padlocked. Thus the necessit... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583687 | though small, supply of cash became urgent, and the consequent instability of "home" very depressing. To preserve his goods from the pawnbroker, and prevent a moonlight flitting, this landlord had printed on his sheets the words "stolen from ---" and on the blankets and counterpane were stamped the words "stop thief!" ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583688 | question, which induced the man to seize an empty bottle, as being the best way of rousing her attention. "Come, you let mother alone, dad," suggested Bobby, "she ain't a-aggrawatin' of you just now." "Why, mother," exclaimed Hetty, who was so busy with Bobby's supper, and, withal, so accustomed to the woman's looks of... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583689 | to observe anything unusual until her attention was thus called to her, "what ever have you done with the baby?" "Ah--you may well ask that," growled Ned. Even the boy seemed to forget his pain for a moment as he now observed, anxiously, that his mother had not the usual bundle on her breast. "The baby's gone!" she sai... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583690 | still keeping her eyes on the blank wall. "Gone!--how?--lost? killed? speak, mother," burst from Hetty and the boy. "No, only gone to where it will be better cared for than here." "Come, explain, old woman," said Ned, again laying his hand on the bottle. As Hetty went and took her hand gently, Mrs Frog condescended to ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583691 | to tell to whose care the baby had been consigned. "Well--it ain't a bad riddance, after all," said the man, as he rose, and, staggering into a corner where another bundle of straw was spread on the floor, flung himself down. Appropriately drawing two of the "stop thief" blankets over him, he went to sleep. Then Mrs Fr... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583692 | sure of quiet for the remainder of the night, drew her stool close to the side of her son, and held such intercourse with him as she seldom had the chance of holding while Bobby was in a state of full health and bodily vigour. Hetty, meanwhile, ministered to them both, for she was one of those dusty diamonds of | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583693 | what may be styled the East-end diggings of London--not so rare, perhaps, as many people may suppose--whose lustre is dimmed and intrinsic value somewhat concealed by the neglect and the moral as well as physical filth by which they are surrounded. "Of course you've paid the ninepence, Hetty?" "Yes, mother." "You might... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583694 | 'adn't we shouldn't 'ave bin here." "That and the firing and candle, with what the doctor ordered, has used up all I had earned, even though I did some extra work and was paid for it," said Hetty with a sigh. "But I don't grudge it, Bobby--I'm only sorry because there's nothing more coming to me till next week." "Meanw... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583695 | there is nothing for _this_ week," said Mrs Frog with a return of the despair, as she looked at her prostrate son, "for all I can manage to earn will barely make up the rent--if it does even that-- and father, you know, drinks nearly all he makes. God help us!" "God _will_ help us," said Hetty, sitting down on | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583696 | the floor and gently stroking the back of her mother's hand, "for He sent the trouble, and will hear us when we cry to Him." "Pray to Him, then, Hetty, for it's no use askin' me to join you. I can't pray. An' don't let your father hear, else he'll be wild." The poor girl bent her head on her | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583697 | knees as she sat, and prayed silently. Her mother and brother, neither of whom had any faith in prayer, remained silent, while her father, breathing stertorously in the corner, slept the sleep of the drunkard. CHAPTER FOUR. SAMUEL TWITTER ASTONISHES MRS. TWITTER AND HER FRIENDS. In a former chapter we described, to som... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583698 | very poor man with five thousand a year. Let us now make the acquaintance of a very rich one with an income of five hundred. He has already introduced himself to the reader under the name of Samuel Twitter. On the night of which we write Mrs Twitter happened to have a "few friends" to tea. And let no one | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012583699 | suppose that Mrs Twitter's few friends were to be put off with afternoon tea--that miserable invention of modern times--nor with a sham meal of sweet warm water and thin bread and butter. By no means. We have said that Samuel Twitter was rich, and Mrs Twitter, conscious of her husband's riches, as well as grateful for ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
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