by L. T. Meade
been only too glad to speakof it; so it was clear to Flo that in some wrong manner alone had itcome into his possession!
Well! why should she care? They were very poor, they were as low downin the world as they well could be; nobody loved them, nobody had evertaught them to do right. Dick and Flo were "horfans," same as Scamp wasan orphan. The world was hard on them, as it is on all defencelesscreatures. If Dick _could_ "prig" something from that rich and greedyworld that was letting them both starve, would it be so very wrong?
If he could do this without the police finding out, without fear ofdiscovery, would it not be rather a good and easy way of gettingbreakfasts, and dinners, and suppers? For surely some people had _too_much; surely it was not fair that all those buns and cakes, all thoseendless, countless good things in the West End shops should go to therich people; surely the little hungry boys and girls who lived, andfelt, and suffered in the East End should have their share!
And if only by stealing they could taste roast goose, was it very wrong,was it wrong at all to steal?
Flo knew nothing about God, she had never heard of the eighthcommandment, but nevertheless, poor ignorant little child, she had amemory that kept her right, a memory that made it impossible for her,even had she really starved, to touch knowingly what was not her own.
The memory was this.
A year ago Flo's mother had died in this cellar. She was a young woman,not more than thirty, but the damp of the miserable cellar, togetherwith endless troubles and hardships, had fanned the seeds of consumptionwithin her, and before her thirty-first birthday she had passed away.She knew she was dying, and in her poor way had done her best to prepareher children for her loss. She taught them both her trade, that of atranslator,--not a literary translator, poor Mrs Darrell could notread,--but a translator of old boots and shoes into new; and Flo andDick, young as they were, learned the least difficult and lighter partsof the business before her death. She had no money to leave them, noknowledge beyond that of her trade; she knew nothing of God or ofheaven, but she had one deeply-instilled principle, and this sheendeavoured by every means in her power to impart to the children.
Living in a place, and belonging to a grade of society, where _any_honesty was rare, she was nevertheless a perfectly honest woman. Shehad never touched a penny that was not her own, she was just and true inall her dealings. She was proud of saying--and the pride had caused hersunken, dying eyes to brighten even at the last--that none of herbelongings, however low they had fallen, had ever seen the inside of aprison, or ever stood in a prisoner's dock. They were honest people,and Dick and Flo must keep up the family character. Come what might,happen what would, they must ever and always look every man in the face,with the proud consciousness, "I have stolen from none."
On the night she died, she had called them both to her side, and gotthem to promise her this. With pathetic and solemn earnestness, she hadheld their little hands and looked into their little faces, and imploredof them, as they loved their dead father and mother, never, never todisgrace the unstained name they had left to them.
"'Tis just hevery think," said the dying woman. "Arter hall my 'ardlife, 'tis real comfa'ble to look back on. Remember, Dick and Flo, Idies trustin' yer. You'll never, wot hever 'appins, be jail-birds--promise me that?"
"Never, mother," said Flo, kissing her and weeping; and Dick promised,and kissed her, and wept also, and then the two children climbed up onthe bed and lay down one at each side of her, and the poor dying womanclosed her eyes and was cheered by their words.
"Is you dying to-night, mother?" asked Flo, gazing with awe at herclammy cold face.
"Yes, dearie."
"Where'll you be to-morrer, then, mother?"
A shadow passed over the peaceful, ignorant face, the brown eyes, solike her little daughter's, were opened wide.
"Oh! I doesn't know--yes, it be _werry_ dark, but I guess it 'ull beall right." Then after a pause, very slowly, "I doesn't mind the grave,I'd like a good bit o' a rest, for I'm awful--awful tired."
Before the morning came the weary life was ended, and Dick and Flo werereally orphans.
Then the undertaker's men came, and a coffin was brought, and the poor,thin, worn body was placed in it, and hauled up by ropes into the outerworld, and the children saw their mother no more.
But they remembered her words, and tried hard to fight out an honestliving for themselves.
This was no easy task; it sent them supperless to bed, it gave themmouldy crusts for dinner, it gave them cold water breakfasts; still theypersevered, Flo working all day long at her cobbling, while Dick, nowtried a broom and crossing, now stood by the metropolitan stationswaiting for chance errands, now presented himself at every shop where anadvertisement in the window declared a boy was wanting, now wanderedabout the streets doing nothing, and occasionally, as a last resource,helped Flo with her cobbling.
But the damp, dark cellar was unendurable to the bright little fellow,and he had to be, as he himself expressed it, a goodish bit peckishbefore he could bear it. So Flo uncomplainingly worked in the dismalroom, and paid the small rent, and provided the greater part of thescanty meals, and Dick thought this arrangement fair enough; "for wasnot Flo a gel? _she_ could bear the lonely, dark, unwholesome placebetter'n him, who was a boy, would one day be a man, and--in course itwas the place of womens to kep at 'ome." So Flo stayed at home and washonest, and Dick went abroad and was honest, and the consciousness ofthis made them both happy and contented.
But about a month before this evening Dick returned from his day'sroaming very hungry as usual, but this time not alone, a tall boy withmerry twinkling eyes accompanied him. He was a funny boy, and had noend of pleasant droll things to say, and Dick and Flo laughed, as theyhad not laughed since mother died.
He brought his share of supper in his pocket, in the shape of a redherring, and a large piece of cold bacon, and the three made quite merryover it.
Before the evening came to an end he had offered to share the cellar,which was, he said, quite wasted on two, pay half the rent, and bring inhis portion of the meals, and after a time, he whispered mysteriously,he would go "pardeners" with Dick in his trade.
"Why not at once?" asked Dick. "I'd like to be arter a trade as givesfolks red 'errings and bacon fur supper."
But Jenks would neither teach his trade then, nor tell what it was; hehowever took up his abode in the cellar, and since his arrival Flo wasmuch more comfortable, and had a much less hard time.
Scarcely an evening passed that some dainty hitherto unknown did notfind its way out of Jenks's pocket. Such funny things too. Now it wasa fresh egg, which they bored a tiny hole in, and sucked by turns; now afew carrots, or some other vegetables, which when eaten raw gave such arelish to the dry, hard bread; now some cherries; and on one occasion agreat big cucumber. But this unfortunately Flo did not like, as it madeher sick, and she begged of Jenks very earnestly not to waste no moremoney on cowcumburs.
On the whole she and Dick enjoyed his society very much. Dick indeedlooked on him with unfeigned admiration, and waited patiently for theday when he should teach him his trade. Flo too wondered, and hoped itwas a girl's trade, as anythink would be better and less hard thantranslating, and one day she screwed up all her courage, and asked Jenksif it would be possible for him when he taught Dick to teach her also.
"Wot?" said Jenks eagerly; "you'd like to be bringin' carrots and heggsout o' yer pocket fur supper? Eh!"
"Yes, Jenks, I fell clemmed down yere, fur ever 'n ever."
Then Jenks turned her round to the light, and gazed long into herinnocent face, and finally declared that "she'd do; and he'd be blowedef she wouldn't do better'n Dick, and make her fortin quite tidy."
So it was arranged that when Dick learned, Flo should learn also. Shehad never guessed what it meant, she had never the least clue to what itall was, until to-night.
But now a glimmering of the real state of the case stole over her. Thatsupper was not honestly come by, so far things
were plain. Once in hislife Dick had broken his word to his dying mother, once at least he hadbeen a thief. This accounted for his forced mirth, for his shamefacedmanner. He and Jenks had stolen something, they were thieves.
But perhaps--and here Flo trembled and turned pale--perhaps there wereworse things behind, perhaps the mysterious trade that Jenks was toteach them both was the trade of a thief, perhaps those nice eggs andcarrots, those red herrings and bits of bacon, were stolen. Sheshivered again at the thought.
Flo was, as I said, a totally ignorant child; she knew nothing of God,of Christ, of the Gospel. Nevertheless she had a gospel and a law.That law was honesty, that gospel was her mother.
She had seen so much pilfering, and small and great stealing about her,she had
