by L. T. Meade
slightly startled, were turned on her companion.
"As big a ghost story as hever was got up in any gaff," continued Janey,her naughty face growing full of mischief, "and it 'appened in this 'erecellar, Flo."
"Oh! it worn't mother come back, wor it?" asked Flo. "Just you waitheasy. No, it worn't yer mother, ef you _must_ know, but as real aghost as hever walked fur all that."
"Tell us," said Flo, really roused and interested.
"Oh, you wants fur to know at last! Well, I must be paid. I'm poor andclemmed, and I can't tell my tale fur nothink, not I."
"'Ow can I pay you, Janey?"
"Oh, yer can, heasy enough. Why mother said as yer sold quite a 'eap o'dolls to-day at the races, there! I'll tell 'bout the ghost fur apenny, no fur three ha'pence--there!"
"Well, tell away," said Flo, throwing the coins into her companion'slap.
Janey thrust them into her mouth, then taking them out rubbed thembright with her pinafore, and held them firmly in her bony little hand.
"Pease puddin' fur the ha'penny," she said, "meat and taters fur thepenny--'tis real mean o' yer not to make it tuppence. Now I'll begin.Were's that ere dawg? were's that hawful, 'owlin' dawg?"
"Oh! I don't know," said Flo, "I don't know nothink 'bout my dearScamp."
"Oh yes, 'ees dear Scamp to be sure," said Janey. "Well, _I'll_ tellyer 'bout Scamp, and hall I 'opes is that we may never lay heyes on 'imno more."
"Why?" asked Flo.
"There! I'm a comin' to wy. Last night wen you, and Dick, and Jenks,and mother was orf to the Derby, and I mad like at bein' left, whichmother _would_ do 'cause I was lame, I came hover and sat close to thecellar, a-listenin' to Scamp, who was 'owlin' real orfle, and I thoughtas it 'ud be a lark to go down into the cellar, fur I knew he wor tied,and hanger 'im a bit, and I tried the door, but it wor locked as firm asfirm, so arter a bit I went away, and I got a little stool and sat up onthe ground houtside our cellar, and there I dropped orf asleep. And wenI 'woke it wor dark, and on'y the `twinkle, twinkle, little stars' hout,and there wor a noise, and I looked, and hout o' your cellar, as waslocked as firm as no one could move it, wor a man's 'ead a comin'--a manwid a round 'ead, and thick body, and bandy legs, and in 'is arms, a'owlin' and a struggling that 'ere blessed dawg."
"Oh! the willan!" said Flo. "'Ee stole my dawg. Did yer foller 'im,Janey?"
"No, I didn't," said Janey; "_I_ foller 'im--I'd like it. Wy, FloDarrell, 'ee worn't a man at all. 'Ow was a _man_ in yer locked hupcellar? No, 'ee wor a ghost--_that's_ wot 'ee wor. And Scamp ain't areal dawg, but a ghost dawg, and yer well rid o' 'im, Flo Darrell."
CHAPTER NINE.
FLO IN THE WITNESS-BOX.
A small knot of policemen stood outside Q--Police-Court. They chattedand talked one to another, now and then alluding to the different casesto be tried that day, now and then dwelling on the ordinary topics ofthe times, now and then, too, speaking to a companion of home interests,and home, and personal hopes and fears.
For these stalwart-looking myrmidons of the law are just human beingslike the rest of mankind, and they are quite capable now and then evenof feeling and showing pity for a prisoner.
"Any cases of interest coming on to-day?" asked a young policeman ofconstable 21 B.
"Nothing of moment--a few thefts committed on the Derby Day. By theway, I have just brought in the drollest figure of a child to appear aswitness in one of these cases."
Just then a little woman in a black dress, black, tight-fitting bonnet,and black veil, came up timidly to the constable and asked if she mightsee the trials.
"Certainly, missis; you have nothing to do but to walk in. Stay, I willshow you the way to the court. May I ask if there is hany particularcase as you is wanting to hear?"
"Not--not--that is, I am not a witness," replied the little woman, whoselips trembled. "I have a curiosity to see the proceedings."
"Well, ma'am, the affairs coming on are mostly hacts of robberycommitted on the Derby day--but some of them may interest you. Walkthis way, ma'am," and the constable preceded the little woman into thecourt.
"There," he said kindly, seeing that for some reason she appeared a gooddeal either upset or excited, "you need not stand where the crowd are,you may go up and seat yourself on that bench where the witnesses be.You'll be more quiet and comfortable hup there, and will seeheverything."
"Thank you," replied the little woman, and she placed herself on theextreme edge of the witnesses' bench.
There was a case then on hand, one of those sad cases whichpolice-courts see so many of. A woman had been brought up to be triedfor that sin which, more than any other, blights homes, ruins children,spreads destruction through the land, sends souls to hell,--she wasaccused of drunkenness and disorderly conduct.
She stood in the prisoner's dock with a sullen, bleared, indifferentface, her half-dead, listless eyes gazing vacantly at the magistrate.She had appeared in that court charged with the same offence fortytimes.
Mr Vernon, the gentleman before whom she was accused, asked her whatshe had to say for herself. Even at this question the indifferentcountenance never woke into life.
"Nothing," she answered listlessly, for the love of strong drink hadkilled all other love in that woman's breast. She hardly listened asMr Vernon addressed her in a few solemn but kindly words, and when hersentence--a month at Wandsworth with hard labour--was pronounced,received it with the same stoical indifference.
Then two boys were led in by the jailor, and constable 21 B. appeared asthe first witness against them. As he passed into his place in thewitnesses' box he gave the little woman in black a nudge and anintelligent look, which would have told her, even if she had not knownit before, that one of the Derby robbery cases had come on. Through herthick veil she looked at the two lads; one hung down his face, but theother gazed about him, apparently untroubled and unashamed. Thishardened expression on the elder boy's face seemed to cause her muchpain, she turned her head away, and some tears fell on her hands. Andyet, could she but have seen into their hearts, she would have perceivedsomething which would have kindled a little hope in her soul.
Each boy, standing in this dreadful position, thought of his mother.
Dick, with that sea of faces about him, with the eyes of the judge fixedon him, felt that the memory of his mother was the hardest thing of allto bear, for the conscience of the child who had stood out againsttemptation for so long was by no means yet hardened, and though he knewnothing of God, his mother's memory stood in the place of God to him.So the most ignorant among us have a light to guide us. Let us bethankful if it is a star so bright as that of mother's love. For,strange to say, the older lad, the boy who stood in the dock with thatbrazen, unabashed face, the clever, accomplished London thief, whothough not unknown to the police, had hitherto by his skill and cunningalmost always escaped the hands of justice, he too, down deep in hisheart of hearts, thought of his mother; he took one quick, furtiveglance around as if to look for her, then, apparently relieved, foldedhis arms and fixed his bold eyes on Mr Vernon. Then the trial, in theusual form in which such trials are conducted in police-courts, went on.The prisoners' names and ages were first ascertained.
"William Jenks, aged fourteen; Richard Darrell, aged ten," soundingdistinctly in the small room.
Then Police Constable 21 B. identified the boys as the same whom he hadcaught in the act of removing a gold watch and purse from a gentleman'spocket in the midst of the crowds who thronged the streets on Tuesday.He described very accurately the whole proceedings, stating how and whyhis suspicions had been aroused--how he had dodged the boys for somelittle time, had observed them whispering together, had seen Dick buyhis false nose and sixpenny fiddle, had overheard a few words which gavehim a further clue to some mischief, had seen them separate, had closelynoticed Dick's antics, had watched the violent push he gave the oldgentleman, and finally had laid his hand on Jenks as he drew forth thewatch and purse from his victim's pocket.
His statements, deliv
ered slowly and impressively, were taken down by aclerk of the court, and then read over to him, and signed as quitecorrect; then the constable retiring, the old gentleman who had been thevictim of the robbery appeared in the witness-box.
Very irate was this witness, and very indignant the glances he gave overhis spectacles at the prisoners.
Those were the boys of course!
Well, he had been befooled by the small chap's funny nose and absurdantics--any one else
