CHAPTER TWO.
INTRODUCES A YOUNG HERO.
The day had become very sultry by the time I went out to visit mypatients. The sky was overcast with dark thunderous clouds, and, asthere seemed every chance of a heavy shower, I returned to my lodgingsfor an umbrella.
"Oh, Mr Mellon!" exclaimed my landlady, as I entered the lobby, "wasthere ever a greater blessin'--oh!--"
"Why, what's the matter, Mrs Miff?"
"Oh, sir! that 'orrid little dog as you brought 'as gone mad!"
"Is that the blessing you refer to, Mrs Miff?"
"No, sir; but your comin' back is, for the creetur 'as bin rampagin'round the room, an yellin' like a thing possessed by demons. I'm soglad you've come!"
Feeling sure that the little dog, unaccustomed, perhaps, to be leftalone in a strange place, was merely anxious to be free, I at once wentto my room-door and opened it. Dumps bounced out, and danced joyfullyround me. Mrs Miff fled in deadly silence to her own bedroom, whereshe locked and bolted herself in.
"Dumps," said I, with a laugh, "I shall have to take you with me at therisk of losing you. Perhaps the memory of the feed I've given you, andthe hope of another, may keep you by me. Come, we shall see."
My doggie behaved much better than I had anticipated. He did indeedstop at several butchers' shops during our walk, and looked inquiringlyin. He also evinced a desire to enter into conversation with one or twoother sociable dogs, but the briefest chirp or whistle brought him atonce obediently to my heel, just as if he had known and obeyed me allhis life.
When we reached the poorer parts of the city, I observed that thefree-and-easy swagger, and the jaunty hopping of each hind-legalternately, gave place to a sedate walk and a wary turn of the head,which suggested keen suspicious glances of the unseen eyes.
"Ah!" thought I, "evidently he has suffered hardships and bad treatmentin places like this."
I stooped and patted his head. He drew closer to me, as if seekingprotection.
Just then a low grumbling of thunder was heard, and soon after the raincame down so heavily that, the umbrella forming an insufficientprotection, Dumps and I sought shelter in the mouth of an alley. Theplump was short-lived, and the little knots of people who had soughtshelter along with us melted quickly away.
My doggie's aspect was not improved by this shower. It had caused hishairy coat to cling to his form, producing a drowned-rat aspect whichwas not becoming; but a short run and some vigorous shakes soon restoredhis rotundity.
In a few minutes thereafter we reached a narrow square or court at theend of a very dirty locality, in one corner of which was a lowpublic-house. Through the half-open swing-door could be seen the usualmelancholy crowd of unhappy creatures who had either already come underthe full influence and curse of strong drink, or were far on the road toruin. It was a sight with which I had become so familiar that, sadthough it was, I scarce gave it a thought in passing. My mind wasoccupied with the poor old woman I was about to visit, and I would havetaken no further notice of the grog-shop in question if the door had notopened violently, and a dirty ragged street-boy, or "waif," apparentlyabout eight or nine years of age, rushed out with a wild cry that may bedescribed as a compound cheer-and-yell. He came out in such blind hastethat he ran his ragged head with great violence against my side, andalmost overturned me.
"Hallo, youngster!" I exclaimed sternly.
"Hallo, oldster!" he replied, in a tone of the most insolentindignation, "wot ever do you mean by runnin' agin my 'ead like that?Hain't you got no genteel boys in the West-end to butt agin, that youcome all the way to Vitechapel to butt agin _me_? I've a good mind to'and you over to the p'leece. Come, you owes me a copper for that."
The ineffable insolence of this waif took me quite by surprise. Hespoke with extreme volubility, and assumed the commanding air of a manof six-feet-four, though only a boy of four-feet-six. I observed,however, that he kept at a sufficient distance to make sure of escapingin the event of my trying to seize him.
"Come," said I, with a smile, "I think you rather owe me a copper forgiving me such a punch in the ribs."
"Vell, I don't mind lookin' at it in that light," he replied, returningmy smile. "I _vill_ give you a copper, on'y I hain't got change. Youwouldn't mind comin' into this 'ere grog-shop while I git change, wouldyou? Or if you'll lend me a sixpence I'll go in and git it for you."
"No," said I, putting my fingers into my waistcoat pocket; "but here isa sixpence for you, which you may keep, and never mind the change, ifyou'll walk along the streets with me a bit."
The urchin held out his dirty hand, and I put the coin into it. Hesmiled, tossed the sixpence, caught it deftly, and transferred it to hisright trousers pocket.
"Vell, you are a rum 'un. But I say, all square? No dodges? Honourbright?"
"No dodges. Honour bright," I replied.
"Come along."
At this point my attention was attracted by a sudden change in thebehaviour of Dumps. He went cautiously towards the boy, and snuffed ashim for a moment.
"I say, is he wicious?" he asked, backing a little.
"I think not, but--"
I was checked in my speech by the little dog uttering a whine of delightand suddenly dancing round the boy, wagging its tail violently, andindeed wriggling its whole shapeless body with joy; as some dogs arewont to do when they meet with an old friend unexpectedly.
"Why, he seems to know you," said I, in surprise.
"Vell, he do seem to 'ave 'ad the honour of my acquaintance some'ow,"returned the boy, whose tone of banter quickly passed away. "What d'eecall 'im?"
"Dumps," said I.
"That won't do. Has he a vite spot on the bridge of 'is nose?" askedthe boy earnestly.
"I really cannot tell. It is not long--"
"Here, Punch, come here!" called the boy, interrupting.
At the name of Punch my doggie became so demonstrative in his affectionsthat he all but leaped into the boy's arms, whined lovingly, and lickedhis dirty face all over.
"The wery dog," said the boy, after looking at his nose; "only growed sobig that his own mother wouldn't know 'im.--Vy, where 'ave you bin allthis long while, Punch?"
"D'you mean to say that you know the dog, and that his name is Punch?"
"Vell, you _are_ green. Wouldn't any cove with half an eye see that thedog knows me, an' so, in course, I must know _him_? An' ven I called'im Punch didn't he answer?--hey?"
I was obliged to admit the truth of these remarks. After the firstebullition of joy at the meeting was over, we went along the streettogether.
"Then the dog is yours?" said I as we went along.
"No, he ain't mine. He was mine once--ven he was a pup, but I sold 'imto a young lady for--a _wery_ small sum."
"For how much?" I asked.
"For five bob. Yes--on'y five bob! I axed vun pound, but the younglady was so pleasant an' pritty that I come down to ten bob. Then shesaid she was poor--and to tell 'ee the plain truth she looked like it--an' she wanted the pup so bad that I come down to five."
"And who was this young lady?"
"Blow'd if I knows. She went off wi' my Punch, an' I never saw'd 'emmore."
"Then you don't know what induced her to sell Punch to a low fellow--butof course you know nothing about that," said I, in a musing tone, as Ithought of the strange manner in which this portion of my doggie'shistory had come to light, but I was recalled from my reverie by thecontemptuous tones of my little companion's voice, as he said--
"But I _do_ know something about that."
"Oh, indeed! I thought you said you never saw the young lady again."
"No more I did. Neither did I ever see Punch again till to-day, but Iknow for certain that my young lady never sold no dog wotsomedever to no_low_ feller as ever walked in shoe leather or out of it!"
"Ah, I see," said I slowly, "you mean--"
"Yes, out with it, that's just wot I do mean--that the low fellerprigged the pup from her, an' I on'y
vish as I 'ad a grip of his uglynose, and I'd draw it out from his uglier face, I would, like the smallend of a telescope, and then shut it up flat again--so flat that you'dnever know he'd had no nose at all!"
My little sharp-witted companion then willingly gave me an account ofall he knew about the early history of my doggie.
The story was not long, but it began, so to speak, at the beginning.
Punch, or Dumps, as I continued to call him, had been born in a drywater-butt which stood in a back yard near the Thames. This yard was,or had been, used for putting away lumber.
"It was a queer place," said my little companion, looking up in my facewith a droll expression--"a sort o' place that, when once you had goneinto it, you was sure to wish you hadn't. Talk o' the blues, sir; I doassure _you_ that w'en I used to go into that yard of a night it gave methe black-an'-blues, it did. There was a mouldiness an' a soppinessabout it that beat the katticombs all to sticks. It looked like a placethat some rubbish had bin flung into in the days before Adam an' Eve wasborn, an' 'ad been forgotten tee-totally from that time to this. Oh, itwas awful! Used to make my marrow screw up into lumps w'en I was usedto go there."
"But why did you go there at all if you disliked it so much?" I asked.
"Vy? because I 'adn't got no better place to go to. I was used to sleepthere. I slep' in the self-same water-butt where Punch was born.That's 'ow I come to scrape acquaintance with 'im. I'd bin away from'ome in the country for a week's slidin'."
"A week's what?"
"Slidin'. Don't you know what sliding on the ice is?"
"Oh!--yes. Are you very fund of that?"
"I should think I was--w'en my boots are good enough to stick on, butthey ain't always that, and then I've got to slide under difficulties.Sometimes I'm out o' boots an' shoes altogether, in vich case slidin'simpossible; but I can look on and slide in spirit, vich is better thannuffin'. But, as I was sayin' w'en you 'ad the bad manners to interruptme, I 'ad bin away from 'ome for a week--"
"Excuse my interrupting you again, but where is your home, may I ask?"
"You may ask, but it 'ud puzzle me to answer for I ain't got no 'ome,unless I may say that London is my 'ome. I come an' go where I pleases,so long's I don't worrit nobody. I sleep where I like, if the bobbiesdon't get their eyes on me w'en I'm agoin' to bed, an' I heat wotevercomes in my way if it ain't too tough. In winter I sleeps in a lodgin''ouse w'en I can but as it costs thrippence a night, I finds it tooexpensive, an' usually prefers a railway arch, or a corner in CoventGarden Market, under a cart or a barrow, or inside of a emptysugar-barrel--anywhere so long's I'm let alone; but what with the rain,the wind, the cold, and the bobbies, I may be said to sleep underdifficulties. Vell, as I was agoin' to say w'en--"
"Excuse me once more--what is your name?" said I.
"Hain't got no name."
"No name! Come, you are joking. What is your father's name?"
"Hain't got no father--never 'ad, as I knows on, nor mother neither, norbrother, nor sister, nor aunt, nor wife--not even a mother-in-law. I'ma unit in creation, I is--as I once heerd a school-board buffer say w'enhe was luggin' me along to school; but he was too green, that bufferwas, for a school-boarder. I gave 'im the slip at the corner of WatlingStreet, an' they've never bin able to cotch me since."
"But you must be known by some name," said I. "What do your companionscall you?"
"They call me bad names, as a rule. Some o' the least offensive among'em are Monkey-face, Screwnose, Cheeks, Squeaker, Roundeyes, andSlidder. I prefers the last myself, an' ginerally answers to it. But,as I was agoin' to say, I'd bin away for a veek, an' w'en I comed'ome--"
"To which part of home? for London is a wide word, you know," I said.
"Now, sir, if you go for to interrupt me like that I'll 'ave to charge abob for this here valk; I couldn't stand it for sixpence."
"Come, Slidder, don't be greedy."
"Vell, sir, if you got as many kicks as I do, and as few ha'pence,p'r'aps you'd be greedy too."
"Perhaps I should, my boy," said I, in a gentle tone. "But come, I willgive you an extra sixpence if we get along well. Let's have the rest ofyour story; I won't interrupt again."
"It ain't my story, it's Punch's story," returned the waif, as hestooped to pat the gratified doggie. "Vell, w'en I com'd 'ome it waslateish and I was tired, besides bein' 'ungry; so I goes right off to mywater-butt, intendin' to go to bed as usual, but no sooner did I put myhead in, than out came a most awful growl. The butt lay on its side,and I backed out double quick just in time, for a most 'orrible-lookin'terrier dog rushed at me. Bein' used to dogs, I wasn't took bysurprise, but fetched it a clip with one o' my feet in its ribs thatsent it staggerin' to the palin' o' the yard. It found a hole, boltedthrough, scurried up the lane yellin', and I never saw'd it more! Thiswas Punch's mother. On goin' into the butt afterwards I found threedead pups and one alive, so I pitched the dead ones away an' shoved thelive one into the breast of my coat, where he slep' till mornin'. Atfirst I 'ad a mind to drown the pup, but it looked so comfortable an'playful, an' was such a queer critter, that I called him Punch, an'became a father to 'im. I got him bones an' other bits o' grub, an'kep' 'im in the water-butt for three veeks. Then he began to make anoise v'en I left him; so, bein' sure the bobbies would rout 'im out atlast, I took 'im an' sold 'im to the first pleasant lady that seemed tofancy 'im."
"Well, Slidder," said I, as we turned down into the mean-looking alleywhere Mrs Willis, my little old woman, dwelt, "I am greatly interestedin what you have told me about my little dog, and I am interested stillmore in what you have told me about yourself. Now, I want you to do mea favour. I wish you to go with me to visit an old woman, and, afterthat, to walk home with me--part of the way, at least."
The boy, whose pinched, hunger-smitten face had an expression of almostsupernatural intelligence on it, bestowed on me a quick, earnest glance.
"No dodges? Honour bright? You ain't a school-board buffer?" he asked.
"No dodges. Honour bright," I replied, with a smile.
"Vell, then, heave ahead, an' I'll foller."
We passed quickly down to the lower end of the alley, which seemed tolose itself in a wretched court that appeared as if it intended to slipinto the river--an intention which, if carried out, would have vastlyimproved its sanitary condition. Here, in a somewhat dark corner of thecourt, I entered an open door, ascended a flight of stairs, and gained asecond landing. At the farthest extremity of the passage I stopped at adoor and knocked. Several of the other doors of the passage opened, andvarious heads were thrust out, while inquisitive eyes surveyed me and mycompanion. A short survey seemed to suffice, for the doors were soonshut, one after another, with a bang, but the door at which I knockeddid not open.
Lifting the latch, I entered, and observed that Mrs Willis was seatedby the window, looking wistfully out. Being rather deaf, she had notheard my knock.
"Come in," I whispered to little Slidder, "sit down on this stool nearthe door, and keep quiet until I speak to you."
So saying, I advanced to the window. The view was not interesting. Itconsisted of the side of a house; about three feet distant, down whichran a water-spout, or drain-pipe, which slightly relieved the dead lookof the bricks. From one pane of the window it was possible, bysqueezing your cheek against it, to obtain a perspective view ofchimney-pots. By a stretch of the neck upwards you could see morechimney pots. By a stretch of imagination you could see catsquarrelling around them,--or anything else you pleased!
Sitting down on a rickety chair beside the little old woman, I touchedher gently on the shoulder. She had come to know my touch by that time,I think, for she looked round with a bright little smile.