CHAPTER IV
THE END OF AN IDYLL
Tommy never saw Reddy again owing to a fright he got about this time,for which she was really to blame, though a woman who lived in his housewas the instrument.
It is, perhaps, idle to attempt a summary of those who lived in thathouse, as one at least will be off, and another in his place, while weare giving them a line apiece. They were usually this kind who livedthrough the wall from Mrs. Sandys, but beneath her were the two rooms ofHankey, the postman, and his lodger, the dreariest of middle-aged clerksexcept when telling wistfully of his ambition, which was to get out ofthe tea department into the coffee department, where there is an easierway of counting up the figures. Shovel and family were also on thisfloor, and in the rooms under them was a newly married couple. When thehusband was away at his work, his wife would make some change in thefurniture, taking the picture from this wall, for instance, and hangingit on that wall, or wheeling the funny chair she had lain in before shecould walk without a crutch, to the other side of the fireplace, orputting a skirt of yellow paper round the flower pot, and when hereturned he always jumped back in wonder and exclaimed: "What an immenseimprovement!" These two were so fond of one another that Tommy askedthem the reason, and they gave it by pointing to the chair with thewheels, which seemed to him to be no reason at all. What was this younghusband's trade Tommy never knew, but he was the only prettily dressedman in the house, and he could be heard roaring in his sleep, "_And_ thenext article?" The meanest looking man lived next door to him. Everymorning this man put on a clean white shirt, which sounds like asplendid beginning, but his other clothes were of the seediest, and hecame and went shivering, raising his shoulders to his ears and spreadinghis hands over his chest as if anxious to hide his shirt rather than todisplay it. He and the happy husband were nicknamed Before and After,they were so like the pictorial advertisement of Man before and after hehas tried Someone's lozenges. But it is rash to judge by outsides; Tommyand Shovel one day tracked Before to his place of business, and itproved to be a palatial eating-house, long, narrow, padded with redcushions; through the door they saw the once despised, now in beautifulblack clothes, the waistcoat a mere nothing, as if to give his shirt achance at last, a towel over his arm, and to and fro he darted,saying "Yessirquitesosir" to the toffs on the seats, shouting"Twovegonebeef--onebeeronetartinahurry" to someone invisible, andpocketing twopences all day long, just like a lord. On the same floor asBefore and After lived the large family of little Pikes, who quarrelledat night for the middle place in the bed, and then chips of ceiling fellinto the room below, tenant Jim Ricketts and parents, lodger the youngwoman we have been trying all these doors for. Her the police snapped upon a charge; that made Tommy want to hide himself--child-desertion.
Shovel was the person best worth listening to on the subject (observehim, the centre of half a dozen boys), and at first he was for thedefence, being a great stickler for the rights of mothers. But when thecase against the girl leaked out, she need not look to him for help. Thepolice had found the child in a basket down an area, and being knowingones they pinched it to make it cry, and then they pretended to go away.Soon the mother, who was watching hard by to see if it fell into kindhands, stole to her baby to comfort it, "and just as she were a kissingon it and blubbering, the perlice copped her."
"The slut!" said disgusted Shovel, "what did she hang about for?" and inanswer to a trembling question from Tommy he replied, decisively, "Sixmonths hard."
"Next case" was probably called immediately, but Tommy vanished, as ifhe had been sentenced and removed to the cells.
Never again, unless he wanted six months hard, must he go near Reddy'shome, and so he now frequently accompanied his mother to the place whereshe worked. The little room had a funny fireplace called a stove, onwhich his mother made tea and the girls roasted chestnuts, and it had noother ordinary furniture except a long form. But the walls weremysterious. Three of them were covered with long white cloths, whichwent to the side when you tugged them, and then you could see on railsdozens of garments that looked like nightgowns. Beneath the form werescores of little shoes, most of them white or brown. In this houseTommy's mother spent eight hours daily, but not all of them in thisroom. When she arrived the first thing she did was to put Elspeth on thefloor, because you cannot fall off a floor; then she went upstairs witha bucket and a broom to a large bare room, where she stayed so long thatTommy nearly forgot what she was like.
While his mother was upstairs Tommy would give Elspeth two or threeshoes to eat to keep her quiet, and then he played with the others,pretending to be able to count them, arranging them in designs, shootingthem, swimming among them, saying "bow-wow" at them and then turningsharply to see who had said it. Soon Elspeth dropped her shoes and gazedin admiration at him, but more often than not she laughed in the wrongplace, and then he said ironically: "Oh, in course I can't do nothin';jest let's see you doing of it, then, cocky!"
By the time the girls began to arrive, singly or in twos and threes, hismother was back in the little room, making tea for herself or sewingbits of them that had been torn as they stepped out of a cab, or helpingthem to put on the nightgowns, or pretending to listen pleasantly totheir chatter and hating them all the time. There was every kind ofthem, gorgeous ones and shabby ones, old tired ones and dashing youngones, but whether they were the Honorable Mrs. Something or only JaneAnything, they all came to that room for the same purpose: to get alittle gown and a pair of shoes. Then they went upstairs and danced to astout little lady, called the Sylph, who bobbed about like a ball at theend of a piece of elastic. What Tommy never forgot was that while theydanced the Sylph kept saying, "One, two, three, four; one, two, three,four," which they did not seem to mind, but when she said "One, two,three, four, _picture_!" they all stopped and stood motionless, thoughit might be with one foot as high as their head and their arms stretchedout toward the floor, as if they had suddenly seen a halfpenny there.
In the waiting-room, how they joked and pirouetted and gossiped, andhugged and scorned each other, and what slang they spoke and how prettythey often looked next moment, and how they denounced the one that hadjust gone out as a cat with whom you could not get in a word edgeways,and oh, how prompt they were to give a slice of their earnings to any"cat" who was hard up! But still, they said, she had talent, but nogenius. How they pitied people without genius.
Have you ever tasted an encore or a reception? Tommy never had his teethin one, but he heard much about them in that room, and concluded thatthey were some sort of cake. It was not the girls who danced in groups,but those who danced alone, that spoke of their encores and receptions,and sometimes they had got them last night, sometimes years ago. Twogirls met in the room, one of whom had stolen the other's reception,and--but it was too dreadful to write about. Most of them carriednewspaper cuttings in their purses and read them aloud to the others,who would not listen. Tommy listened, however, and as it was all abouthow one house had risen at the girls and they had brought another down,he thought they led the most adventurous lives.
Occasionally they sent him out to buy newspapers or chestnuts, and thenhe had to keep a sharp eye on the police lest they knew about Reddy. Itwas a point of honor with all the boys he knew to pretend that thepoliceman was after them. To gull the policeman into thinking all waswell they blackened their faces and wore their jackets inside out; theiroccupation was a constant state of readiness to fly from him, and whenhe tramped out of sight, unconscious of their existence, they emergedfrom dark places and spoke in exultant whispers. Tommy had been proud tojoin them, but he now resented their going on in this way; he felt thathe alone had the right to fly from the law. And once at least while hewas flying something happened to him that he was to remember better, farbetter, than his mother's face.
What set him running on this occasion (he had been sent out to get oneof the girls' shoes soled) was the grandest sight to be seen inLondon--an endless row of policemen walking in single file, all with theright leg in the air a
t the same time, then the left leg. Seeing at oncethat they were after him, Tommy ran, ran, ran until in turning a cornerhe found himself wedged between two legs. He was of just sufficient sizeto fill the aperture, but after a momentary look he squeezed through,and they proved to be the gate into an enchanted land.
The magic began at once. "Dagont, you sacket!" cried some wizard.
A policeman's hand on his shoulder could not have taken the wind out ofTommy more quickly. In the act of starting a-running again he broughtdown his hind foot with a thud and stood stock still. Can any onewonder? It was the Thrums tongue, and this the first time he had heardit except from his mother.
It was a dull day, and all the walls were dripping wet, this being thepart of London where the fogs are kept. Many men and women were passingto and fro, and Tommy, with a wild exultation in his breast, peered upat the face of this one and that; but no, they were only ordinarypeople, and he played rub-a-dub with his feet on the pavement, sofurious was he with them for moving on as if nothing had happened. Drawup, ye carters; pedestrians, stand still; London, silence for a moment,and let Tommy Sandys listen!
Being but a frail plant in the way of a flood, Tommy was rooted up andborne onward, but he did not feel the buffeting. In a passion of griefhe dug his fists in his eyes, for the glory had been his for but amoment. It can be compared to nothing save the parcel (attached to aconcealed string) which Shovel and he once placed on the stair for BillyHankey to find, and then whipped away from him just as he had got itunder his arm. But so near the crying, Tommy did not cry, for even whilethe tears were rushing to his aid he tripped on the step of a shop, andimmediately, as if that had rung the magic bell again, a voice, awoman's voice this time, said shrilly, "Threepence ha'penny, and themjimply as big as a bantam's! Na, na, but I'll gi'e you five bawbees."
Tommy sat down flop on the step, feeling queer in the head. Was it--wasit--was it Thrums? He knew he had been running a long time.
The woman, or fairy, or whatever you choose to call her, came out ofthe shop and had to push Tommy aside to get past. Oh, what a sweet footto be kicked by. At the time, he thought she was dressed not unlike thewomen of his own stair, but this defect in his vision he mendedafterward, as you may hear. Of course, he rose and trotted by her sidelike a dog, looking up at her as if she were a cathedral; but shemistook his awe for impudence and sent him sprawling, with the words,"Tak that, you glowering partan!"
Do you think Tommy resented this? On the contrary he screamed from wherehe lay, "Say it again! say it again!"
She was gone, however, but only, as it were, to let a window open, fromwhich came the cry, "Davit, have you seen my man?"
A male fairy roared back from some invisible place, "He has gone yont toPetey's wi' the dambrod."
"I'll dambrod him!" said the female fairy, and the window shut.
Tommy was now staggering like one intoxicated, but he had still somesense left him, and he walked up and down in front of this house, as ifto take care of it. In the middle of the street some boys were very busyat a game, carts and lorries passing over them occasionally. They cameto the pavement to play marbles, and then Tommy noticed that one of themwore what was probably a glengarry bonnet. Could he be a Thrums boy?
At first he played in the stupid London way, but by and by he had tomake a new ring, and he did it by whirling round on one foot. Tommy knewfrom his mother that it is only done in this way in Thrums. Oho! Oho!
By this time he was prancing round his discovery, saying, "I'm one,too--so am I--dagont, does yer hear? dagont!" which so alarmed the boythat he picked up his marble and fled, Tommy, of course, after him.Alas! he must have been some mischievous sprite, for he lured hispursuer back into London and then vanished, and Tommy, searching in vainfor the enchanted street, found his own door instead.
His mother pooh-poohed his tale, though he described the street exactlyas it struck him on reflection, and it bore a curious resemblance to thepalace of Aladdin that Reddy had told him about, leaving his imaginationto fill in the details, which it promptly did, with a square, atown-house, some outside stairs, and an auld licht kirk. There was nosuch street, however, his mother assured him; he had been dreaming. Butif this were so, why was she so anxious to make him promise never tolook for the place again?
He did go in search of it again, daily for a time, always keeping alook-out for bow-legs, and the moment he saw them, he dived recklesslybetween, hoping to come out into fairyland on the other side. For thoughhe had lost the street, he knew that this was the way in.
Shovel had never heard of the street, nor had Bob. But Bob gave himsomething that almost made him forget it for a time. Bob was hisfavorite among the dancing girls, and she--or should it be he? The oddthing about these girls was that a number of them were really boys--orat least were boys at Christmas-time, which seemed to Tommy to be evenstranger than if they had been boys all the year round. A friend ofBob's remarked to her one day, "You are to be a girl next winter, ain'tyou, Bob?" and Bob shook her head scornfully.
"Do you see any green in my eye, my dear?" she inquired.
Her friend did not look, but Tommy looked, and there was none. Heassured her of this so earnestly that Bob fell in love with him on thespot, and chucked him under the chin, first with her thumb and then withher toe, which feat was duly reported to Shovel, who could do it by theend of the week.
Did Tommy, Bob wanted to know, still think her a mere woman?
No, he withdrew the charge, but--but--She was wearing her outdoorgarments, and he pointed to them, "Why does yer wear them, then?" hedemanded.
"For the matter of that," she replied, pointing at his frock, "why doyou wear them?" Whereupon Tommy began to cry.
"I ain't not got no right ones," he blubbered. Harum-scarum Bob, whowas a trump, had him in her motherly arms immediately, and the upshot ofit was that a blue suit she had worn when she was Sam Something changedowners. Mrs. Sandys "made it up," and that is how Tommy got intotrousers.
Many contingencies were considered in the making, but the suit would fitTommy by and by if he grew, or it shrunk, and they did not pass eachother in the night. When proud Tommy first put on his suit the mostunexpected shyness overcame him, and having set off vaingloriously hestuck on the stair and wanted to hide. Shovel, who had been having anargument with his old girl, came, all boastful bumps, to him, and Tommyjust stood still with a self-conscious simper on his face. And Shovel,who could have damped him considerably, behaved in the most honorablemanner, initiating him gravely into the higher life, much as you showthe new member round your club.
It was very risky to go back to Reddy, whom he had not seen for manyweeks; but in trousers! He could not help it. He only meant to walk upand down her street, so that she might see him from the window, and knowthat this splendid thing was he; but though he went several times intothe street, Reddy never came to the window.
The reason he had to wait in vain at Reddy's door was that she was dead;she had been dead for quite a long time when Tommy came back to look forher. You mothers who have lost your babies, I should be a sorry knavewere I to ask you to cry now over the death of another woman's child.Reddy had been lent to two people for a very little while, just as yourbabies were, and when the time was up she blew a kiss to them and rangleefully back to God, just as your babies did. The gates of heaven areso easily found when we are little, and they are always standing open tolet children wander in.
But though Reddy was gone away forever, mamma still lived in that house,and on a day she opened the door to come out, Tommy was standingthere--she saw him there waiting for Reddy. Dry-eyed this sorrowfulwoman had heard the sentence pronounced, dry eyed she had followed thelittle coffin to its grave; tears had not come even when waking fromillusive dreams she put out her hand in bed to a child who was notthere; but when she saw Tommy waiting at the door for Reddy, who hadbeen dead for a month, her bosom moved and she could cry again.
Those tears were sweet to her husband, and it was he who took Tommy onhis knee in the room where t
he books were, and told him that there wasno Reddy now. When Tommy knew that Reddy was a deader he cried bitterly,and the man said, very gently, "I am glad you were so fond of her."
"'T ain't that," Tommy answered with a knuckle in his eye, "'t ain'tthat as makes me cry." He looked down at his trousers and in a freshoutburst of childish grief he wailed, "It's them!"
Papa did not understand, but the boy explained. "She can't not neversee them now," he sobbed, "and I wants her to see them, and they haspockets!"
It had come to the man unexpectedly. He put Tommy down almost roughly,and raised his hand to his head as if he felt a sudden pain there.
But Tommy, you know, was only a little boy.