by L. T. Meade
Floventured to say no more.
It was quite dusk when they got to London, or rather to the outskirts ofLondon, for they went very slowly, and often paused on the road.
By this time they were quite a vast army, fresh tramps arriving to swelltheir ranks each moment.
Here too they were met by numbers of Londoners who had not gone to theraces, but who now thronged the footways to see them return.
At one particular angle of the road these crowds congregated so thicklythat for a few moments there was quite a block, and neither multitudecould proceed.
As Flo stood by her companion's side, two boys pushed quickly androughly against her.
They did not recognise or look at her, but she did them--they were Jenksand Dick. She was quite overjoyed at seeing them so near her, but howfunny they looked! or rather, how funny Dick looked! His face wasblackened, and he had on a false nose; he carried a little fiddle whichhe capered about with, and pushing his way fearlessly into the veryheart of the throng, made altogether such a droll appearance that manypeople looked at him, and laughed very heartily, and shied him halfpenceJenks, on the contrary, was grave and sober, no one minding him.
But suddenly, while all eyes and tongues were eagerly greeting somefresh arrivals, Flo observed Dick give a red-faced, stout old gentlemana tremendous push, and quick as lightning Jenks had his hand in the oldman's pocket, and out had come his purse and gold watch.
And before the terrified and astonished child had time to utter anexclamation, or to draw a breath, Police Constable 21 B. laid his handheavily on Jenks' shoulders, and with the other drawing Dick towardshim, informed them both that they were his prisoners.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
A GHOST IN THE CELLAR.
In the confusion that immediately ensued, Flo found herself torn awayfrom her kind companion, and brought very near to Police Constable 21 B.and his charge. Like most children of her class she had been taught toconsider policemen very dreadful people, but she had no fear of this onenow: her whole desire was to save Dick. She went boldly up and laid herlittle dirty hand on the great tall man's arm.
"Please--please," said Flo, "it ain't Dick as tuk them things. Indeed Ithinks as Dick _is_ an honest boy."
"Oh! yes, and I suppose you are an honest girl," said the policeman,looking down with some contempt at the queer disreputable-looking littlefigure. "Tell me now, what do you know about Dick? and which of the twois Dick to begin with?"
"That 'ere little chap wot yer 'ave such a grip of," said Flo, "that'sDick, and I be 'is sister, I be."
"Oh! so you are his sister. And what's the name of the big fellow? youare his sister too?"
"No, I ain't," said Flo, "I ain't that, but 'ee lives wid Dick and me."
"He does--does he? Perhaps you saw what he did just now?"
Flo had seen--she coloured and hesitated.
"You need not speak unless you wish to," said the policeman more kindly,"but I perceive you know all about these boys, so you must appear aswitness. See! where do you live?"
"Cellar number 7, Duncan Street, Saint Giles," said Flo promptly.
"Ah!" said the policeman, "I thought those cellars was shut up. Theyain't fit for pigs. Well, my dear, 'tis a nice-sounding, respectableaddress, and I'll serve you a notice to-morrow to appear as witness.Don't you go hiding, for wherever you are I'll find you. On Thursdaymorning at 10 o'clock at Q--Police-Station." And nodding to Flo, hewalked off, bearing his sullen, ashamed, crest-fallen prisoners withhim.
"Come 'ome wid me, dear," said a poor miserable-looking neighbour, anoccupant of another Duncan Street cellar. "Come 'ome wid me," she said,touching the dazed, stunned-looking child; "I'll take care of yer therest of the way," and she took her hand and led her out of the crowd.
"There now," said the woman kindly, "don't yer fret, dearie--it ain't sobad, and it won't be so bad. Dick, 'ee'll on'y get a month or two atthe 'formatary, and t'other chap a bit longer, and hout they'll comenone the worse. Don't yer fret, dearie."
"No, ma'am," answered Flo with a little smile, "I ain't frettin'." Norwas she exactly. She had an awful vision before her of mother's deadface, that was all. During the rest of the long walk home that patient,tired face was before her. She was not fretting, she was too stunned asyet--that would come by and by.
Her neighbour tried to make her talk, tried to smooth matters for her,but they could not be smoothed, nothing could soften the awful fact thatDick was going to prison, that he had broken his word to his dyingmother. It was quite dusk, past 9 o'clock, when they reached DuncanStreet, and the cellar door of number 7, which the children had fastenedwhen they had started so light-hearted and happy for the Derby the daybefore, was now open. Flo hardly noticed this. She ran down, eager tothrow her arms round Scamp's neck, and weep out her heart with hisfaithful head on her bosom.
"But--what had happened?"
Flo expected to hear his eager bark of welcome the moment she enteredthe cellar, but there was no sound. She called to him, no answer. Shestruck a match and lit the tallow candle,--Scamp's place was empty,Scamp was gone. She stooped down and examined the spot carefully. Ifhe had freed himself there would have been some pieces of the ropehanging to the table, but no, all trace of it was gone.
It was quite plain, then, some one had come and stolen Scamp, some onehad come meanly while they were away and carried him off--he was gone.One extra drop will overflow a full cup, and this extra trial completelyupset the little tired, sad child. She sat down on the floor, that dampwretched floor, surely an unfit resting-place for any of God'screatures, and gave way to all the agony of intense desolation.
Had the dog been there he would have soothed her: the look in his eyes,the solemn slow wag of his unwieldy tail, would have comforted her,would have spoken to her of affection, would have prevented her feelingutterly alone in the world.
And this now was Flo's sensation.
When this awful storm of loneliness comes to the rich, and things looktruly hard for them, they still have their carpeted floors, andeasy-chairs, and soft beds, and though at such times they profess not tovalue these things in the least, yet they are, and are meant to be,great alleviations.
Only the poor, the very, very poor know what this storm is in all itsterrors, and the desolate little child sitting there in this dark cellarfelt it in its full power that night. Dick was gone from her, Dick wasa thief, he was in prison, gone perhaps never to come back--and Jenkswas gone, he had done wrong and tempted Dick, and broken his word toher, so perhaps it was right for him to go--and Scamp, dear Scamp, whohad done no harm whatever, was stolen away.
Yes, she was alone, alone with the thought of her mother's face, allalone in the damp, dark, foul cellar, and she knew nothing of God.
Just then a voice, and a sweet voice too, was heard very distinctly atthe mouth of the cellar.
"Sing glory, glory, glory," tuned the voice.
"Janey," said Flo, starting to her feet and speaking eagerly.
"Oh dear!" said the voice at the cellar door, "ain't you a fool to besettin' there in the dark. Strike a light, do--I'm a comin' down."
Flo struck a match, and lit a small end of tallow candle, and the lamegirl tumbled down the ladder and squatted on the floor by her side.
"Oh dear!" she said, "ain't this a stiflin' 'ole? why 'tis worse nor'ourn."
"Wot's `Read and Pray,' Janey?" asked Flo.
"My!" said Janey, "ef yer ain't a real worry, Flo Darrell. Read--that'swot the Board teaches--and pray--Our--Father--chart--'eaven--that'spray."
"And `Sing Glory,' wot's that?" continued Flo.
"That!" laughed Janey, "why that's a choros, you little goose. Niggers'ave alwis choroses to their songs--that ain't nothink else."
"Well, 'tis pretty," sighed Flo, "not that I cares for nothink prettynow no more."
"Oh! yes yer will," said Janey with the air of a philosopher. "Yer justa bit dumpy to-night, same as I wor wen I broke my leg, and I wor lyin'in the 'orspital, all awful full o' pain hup to m
y throat, but now I 'ason'y a stiff joint, and I doesn't mind it a bit. That's just 'ow you'llfeel 'bout Dick by and by. 'Ee'll be lyin' in prison, and you won'tcare, no more nor I cares fur my stiff joint."
Flo was silent, not finding Janey's conversation comforting.
"Come," said that young person after a pause, "I thought you'd want abit o' livenin' hup. Wot does yer say to a ghost story?"
Flo's eyes,
