by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER IV.
AN ADOPTED CHILD.
A FEW days after school had commenced Frank Norris called in again atthe Holls'. It was a bright day, and Harry had gone out in his box, andMrs. Holl was alone.
"Harry will be sorry he is out, sir," was her first greeting to Frank;"he has been looking forward to your coming again. You don't know, sir,how much good you have done him. The boy has generally wonderful goodspirits, considering his condition; still, though he don't say nought, Ican see sometimes that he isn't never quite happy except when he isworking away with his books or playing on that fiddle of his.
"Evan has been and spent all the money as was given him that day at theSerpentine in buying a new fiddle for him. I don't see much in the thingmyself, and it seems to me they must have cheated Evan altogether, forit ain't a new un, but an old, brown, dirty-looking thing, as looks asif it had been made nigh fifty years; and they goes and charges himthirty-eight shillings for it, and pretended to make a favour of it,while John only paid seven and sixpence for the one he had before, whichwas a beautiful new shiny one.
"However, Harry seems delighted with it, and says it's beautiful soft,and mellow. But what he means I don't know, though I do allow it ain'tso squeaky as the other; and sometimes when Harry is playing soft on it,it does sound beautiful. Still, thirty-eight shillings is a big pricefor an old thing like that."
"Old fiddles are always worth more than new ones, Mrs. Holl. Do you knowthere are some fiddles two or three hundred years old which could not bebought for less than three or four hundred pounds?"
"My gracious!" Mrs. Holl exclaimed, "three or four hundred pounds forsuch a thing as a fiddle. I calls it downright wicked."
"He is a wonderful boy that son of yours, Mrs. Holl," Frank said,changing the subject; "a regular genius I should call him. What a pityit is that he is a cripple!"
"Ay, that it is," Mrs. Holl agreed, "and he is a wonderful chap, isHarry. But he ain't no son of mine, Mr. Norris, though he don't know ithimself, and I shouldn't like him to be told."
"Then what relation is he, Mrs. Holl, if it is not an impertinentquestion?"
"He ain't no sort of relation at all, sir," the woman answered.
"Then how came you to bring him up, Mrs. Holl?" Frank asked in surprise.
"Well, sir, it was a very simple matter. But if so be as you care tohear it, I will tell you just how it happened." And, leaning against themantelpiece, with the red light of the fire thrown up into her face,Mrs. Holl went on very slowly, and speaking as though she almost sawwhat she was relating.
"Well, sir, it were an evening in April--a cold bitter day. I wassitting here between light and dark, drinking my tea with John, who wasjust come home from work--John is my husband, you see, sir--when weheard a noise outside in the street. We went out to see what was thematter, and we found a poor young creature, with a baby in her arms, hadfallen down in a faint like.
"She was a pretty young thing, sir; and though her dress was poor andtorn, she looked as if she had not been always so. Some one says, 'Takethem to the workhouse.' 'No!' says I--for my heart yearned towards thepoor young thing--'bring her in here; mayn't we, John?' says I. Well,sir, John did not say nothing, but he took the baby out of her arms andgave it to me, and then he upped and took the poor young creature--shewere no great weight, sir--and carried her into the house, and laid heron the bed, as it might be by the window there.
"Well, sir, that bed she never left; she came round a little, and livedsome days, but her mind were never rightly itself again. She would laythere, with her baby beside her, and sing songs to herself; I don't knowwhat about, for it were some foreign language. She were very gentle andquiet like, but I don't think she ever knew where she was, or anythingabout it. She were very fond of baby, and would take it in her arms, andhush it, and talk to it. She faded and faded away, and the doctor saidnothing could be done for her; it made my heart ache, sir, and if youwill believe me, I would go upstairs and cry by the hour.
"The thought of the little baby troubled me too. I had lost my firstlittle one, sir, and I could not a-bear the thought of the little thinggoing to the workhouse. So one day I says to John, 'John, when thatpoor mother dies, for God's sake don't 'ee send the little baby to theworkhouse; He has taken away our own little one, and may be He has sentthis one for us to love in his place. Let us take him as our own.' John,he did not say nothing, but he up and gived me a great kiss, and said,'Sairey, you're a good woman!' which of course, sir," Mrs. Holl put inapologetically, "is neither here nor there, for any mother would havedone the same; but it's John's way when he's pleased. That very samenight the baby's mother died."
Standing with her rough honest face lit up by the bright fire-glow sherelated it, simply, and as a matter of course, all unconscious of thegood part she had taken in it, assuming no credit to herself, or seeingthat she deserved any.
When she had finished there was a little silence. Frank passed his handfurtively across his eyes, and then shook Mrs. Holl warmly by the hand,saying, "Your husband was right, Mrs. Holl, you are a good woman."
Mrs. Holl looked completely amazed, and stammered out, "Lor' bless you,sir! there wasn't anything out of the way in what I did, and there'sscores and scores would do the like. Having just lost my own little one,my heart went out to the poor little thing, and it seemed sent naturallike, to fill up the place of the little angel who was gone from us.Bless your heart, sir, there weren't nothing out of the way in that,nothing at all, and we have never had cause to regret it. The boy's agood boy, and a clever boy, and he is a comfort and a help to us; abetter boy never lived. But we have always grieved sorely over theaccident."
"Then he was not originally lame, Mrs. Holl?" Frank asked.
"Dear me! no, sir, not till he were six years old. It happened this way.I was laid up at the time--I was just confined of Mary, she is my eldestgirl--and somehow Harry he went out in the street playing. I don'trightly know how it happened; but never shall I forget when they broughthim in, and said that a cart had run over him. John, he was in--whichwas lucky, for I think I lost my head like, and went clean out of mymind for a bit, for I loved him just like my own. They did not think hewould have lived at first, for the cart had gone over the lower part ofhis body and broke one of his thigh-bones, and the other leg up high. Itwas a light cart I have heard tell, or it must have killed him.
"He were in bed for months, and, if you will believe me, if ever therewas a patient little angel on earth, it was surely Harry. He nevercomplained, and his chief trouble was for my sake. At last he got well;but the doctors said he would never walk again, for they thought therewas some damage done to his spine; and sure enough he never has walked.He is always cheerful, and keeps up wonderful, considering.
"He has always been given to reading. John made a shift to teach him hisletters, and then the children of the neighbours, they lent him theirschoolbooks, and taught him what they knew, and in a short time, blessyou, sir, he knew more than them all! He would sit and read for hourstogether. He is wonderful clever, Harry is."
"Well, Mrs. Holl," Frank said, rising, "I am very much obliged to youfor your story; but I must be going now, or else I shall be late forschool. Tell Harry I am sorry I missed him, and will look in again soon.Have you thought anything further of what I said about Evan?"
"Yes, sir, and thank you most kindly; but father thinks he had betterwait another year or so, till he gets a bit older and steadier. As forthem books as you was kind enough to send Harry, the boy must thank youhisself; except when he is playing on his fiddle he is always reading atthem, and it is as much as I can do to get him outside the doors. He wasnever very fond of it, for he thinks people look at him; but since thosebooks has come I have regular to take them away from him, put his cap onhis head, and push him outside the door. He will be in a taking that hehas missed you to-day."
"Well, good-bye, Mrs. Holl, I haven't a moment to lose," and Frank,putting on his hat, made off at a sharp run to school, only arrivingjust in time to say prayers.
Frank Norris, although a Sixth town boy, was not head of Richards', asJohnstone had been longer in that form, and was consequently senior tohim. Johnstone was, however, small and slightly built, and cared littlefor rowing, cricket, or football. He had gained his place in the Sixthby sheer hard work rather than by talent. He was fussy and irritable,with a strong sense of the importance of his position as a Sixth townboy and head of Richards'. Between him and Frank there was nocordiality, for it irritated him that the latter was upon all occasionsappealed to, and his advice asked in everything relating to games, andall matters of dispute referred to him. Frank, on the other hand,although he at all times gave way to Johnstone in house matters, wasconstantly annoyed by his continual self-assertion and his irritation attrifles. They were the only two Sixth town boys at Richards', but therewere three Upper 'Shells,' Harris, Travers, and James, and these rankedalmost with the Sixth, for the great demarcation of the School wasbetween the Upper and Under 'Shells,' the former having the right tofag.
Frank and Johnston had each a small room of their own; the three Upper"Shells" had a room together, but they used Frank's study almost as muchas their own; one or other would generally come in to work with him inthe evening, and it was here that councils were held as to house mattersor knotty points connected with field or water.
"I wish Trafalgar Square wasn't out of bounds," Harris said one evening.
They had finished the work for the next day, and had gathered for a chatin Frank's room before turning into bed. Frank was sitting in a ricketyarm-chair by the fire, Harris on the table, and the other two on thebed.
"Why do you wish so, Harris?" Frank said.
"Why, I should like to go up to see those rows they have pretty nearlyevery day. Thompson, the home boarder, told me he saw a regular fightthere yesterday evening between the police and the Chartists."
"Well, it's no use wishing, because bounds begin at the gate in Dean'sYard. I never could understand myself why we should be allowed to go theother way, down the slums, as far as we please, where there is everychance of getting into a row, while we are not allowed to walk quietlyup Parliament Street; then we may go along the other way, by the newHouses of Parliament, to Westminster Bridge, and across the bridge tobaths; but we may not go out from Dean's Yard and walk across in frontof the Abbey to the Bridge. I expect when the rules were made there wereno houses built beyond us, and there were fields extending back from theriver, while the other way led up to the Court. But I should certainlylike to go up and see one of those Chartist riots. However, I don'tthink it can be done; it would be setting a bad example to the younguns, and the chances are ten to one we should run against one of themasters."
"Hardly likely, I should think," Travers said; "it would be shocking badluck to run against one of them in a crowd like that."
"Well, you see, Travers, we are so preciously conspicuous in thesetail-coats; of course it's the custom, and I stick up for old customs;still, I do think it's a ridiculous thing that we should be obliged towear tail-coats. Of course the jackets for the fellows under the Upper'Shell' are all right, but one cannot go on wearing jackets higher thanthat; still, I do think they might let us wear cutaways; tail-coats wereall right when every one else wore tail-coats, but in our days it isabsurd to wear a coat which nobody else wears except for an eveningdress. You can tell a fellow a mile off as a Westminster boy by hiscoat."
"It has its advantages," James said. "Look how Johnstone would lose hisimportance without his tails, he would look like a plucked jay."
There was a general laugh.
"He is not a bad fellow," Frank replied, "though he does think a gooddeal of himself. Still, as no one else thinks anything of him, it isjust as well he should fancy himself. But never mind that now. No, Idon't think there is any chance of our getting to see the fun inTrafalgar Square. I should like to go to one of the halls where thosefellows spout, and to get up and say something the other way. Of courseone would have to go in a strong body, else there would not be much ofus left when we got into the street again. I must have a chat withPerkins about it, he is sure to be up to all that kind of thing."
"Yes, but there would be the trouble of getting in after lock-up."
"Oh, I dare say we might get over that," Harris replied; "the fags wouldnever peach."
"We won't tell them if we can help it," Frank said; "if we go in for anylark of that sort only one of our fags must know it. I can trust youngPhillpot to hold his tongue. Well, I will chat it over with Perkins, andsee what can be done."
Perkins was a retired prize-fighter who kept a public-house on BankSide. In a large room attached to the house he gave sparring exhibitionstwice a week, with the aid of other fellow-pugilists, and also gaveprivate lessons in the art of self-defence. Bank Side was not out ofbounds, but it was strictly against the rules for any boy to enter apublic-house; nevertheless, a good many of the Westminster boys hadlearned boxing from this worthy. There was a private entrance behind thehouse into what Perkins called his "saloon," and the boys strove toconsider that by using this they avoided an infringement of the rule.The fact of their taking lessons was unknown to the master, for indeedat Westminster the boys were at perfect liberty to do as they pleasedout of school-time, providing that they did not go out of bounds.
The rules enforcing attendance at fields or water, of abstaining fromentering public-houses, and generally of conducting themselves asgentlemen, were left to what may be called their own police, the seniorQueen's Scholars and the Sixth Form town boys, and these kept a farmore rigorous hand over the younger boys than the masters could possiblyhave done. A vigorous thrashing was the punishment for shirking fields,or for any action regarded as caddish; and it was therefore only theUpper 'Shells' and Sixth, who, being free from the operation of the lawas to fields and water, were able to frequent Perkins's establishment.
Of those who went there, most of them did so for the genuine purpose oflearning boxing; but a few used the place for the purpose of smoking anddrinking. But these did so at hours when there was no chance of findingPerkins at work with his pupils, for public feeling would not havetolerated, even in an upper form boy, anything that would have beenlooked upon as such bad form.
The next morning, after breakfast, Frank walked down to "The Black Dog."He was one of Perkins's best pupils, and the latter had more than oncebeen heard to express his regret that Frank had not been born in a lowerclass of life.
"He's got the making of a champion in him," the ex-pugilist would sayregretfully; "in another five years, when he has got his full height andfilled out, I warrant he will fight twelve stone; look how quick he ison his pins; and I tell you I have all my work to do now to guard myhead, he hits like lightning, and once or twice has fairly knocked meoff my pins. I'd back him now for fifty pounds against any novice inEngland; and as for pluck, I have never seen him wince, hit him as hardas you will he always comes up smiling. Barkley, he is a good boxer too,but he ain't got temper, sir; he gets nasty if he has a sharp counter;and though he keeps cool enough, there is an ugly look about his facewhich tells its tale. He would never keep his temper, and I doubt ifhe's real game at bottom. I knows my customers, and have never hit himas I hit Norris; I don't want to lose a pupil as pays fair and square,and I know I should mighty soon lose him if I were to let out at himsharp. No, there is bad blood in that chap somewhere."
"Well, Master Norris, and what do you want at this time of the morning?"he said, as Frank, after entering the saloon, rang a bell which soundedin the bar and summoned him to the saloon. "Not a lesson at this time ofthe day, surely?"
"Not exactly, Perkins, considering I am due at ten o'clock, andtherefore have only five minutes to stay. I just dropped in to ask youabout something on which you can perhaps advise us."
"Fire away, Master Norris; anything I can do for you you knows as Iwill."
"I was thinking, Perkins, that it would be a great lark to go up to oneof those halls where those Chartist fellows meet, and to hear theirspeeches."
; "I don't see that there would be any lark in it," Perkins replied,"unless you meant getting up a row."
"I don't know that I exactly meant to get up a row; but if there was arow, so much the more lark."
"Well, sir, if I might give my advice, I don't think, if I was you, Iwould do it in school-time. Your hands can guard your face pretty tidy,I grant you, but the chances is as you would not get out of such a rowas that would be without being marked. I knows of a place over the otherside of the water, not far from the New Cut, where they meet. Bill Lowe,him as comes here to spar twice a week, yer know, he goes there; hetakes up with them Chartist notions, which I don't hold with no ways. Idon't see nothing in them seven pints as would do anything for the ring;and that being so, let it alone, says I. However, Master Norris, sinceyou have a fancy that way I will talk the matter over with him, and thenif you really makes up your mind you would like to go, I will get fouror five of my lads as can use their mawleys, and we will go in a body.
"Then if there should be a row, I reckon we can fight our way out. Thereain't much in them chaps, tailors and shoemakers, and the like; they arealways great hands for jaw, them tailors and shoemakers, but I neverseed one as I would put five pound on in a twelve-foot ring. Poorundersized creatures, for the most part, but beggars for jaw; but thereare some rough uns with 'em, and yer might get badly marked before yergot out."
But Frank's mind was now bent upon it.
"It will be a lark, Perkins, anyhow; things have been rather slow atSchool lately, and three or four of us have set our minds on it. So ifyou let me know what evening will suit you, we will be here."
Four evenings later Frank Norris, with the other three boys, slipped outafter prayers were over, and started on their expedition. Frank's fagclosed the door noiselessly behind them and rebolted it; he had strictorders to take his place at an upper window at eleven o'clock and watchfor their return. If when they made their appearance the house was quietand the lights out, he was to slip down and let them in; if not, theywere to go away again and return an hour later. All four boys were inthick pea-jackets, and wore rough caps which they had bought for thepurpose.
When they reached Perkins's public-house, the prize-fighter surveyedthem closely.
"Ye will pass in a crowd," he said; "but keep your caps well down overyer faces. Now mind, young gents, if there's a row comes over this 'erebusiness, I ain't to blame in the matter."
"All right, Perkins, but there will be no row."
Being joined by Bill Lowe and three other boxers, they set out togetherfor the New Cut; past the New Houses of Parliament--still in the handsof the builders--over Westminster Bridge, past the flaring lights infront of Astley's, and into the New Cut.
Here, as usual, business was brisk; the public-houses were doing aroaring trade. Rows of costermongers' carts lined the road on eitherside, and the hoarse shouts of the vendors of fruit, vegetables, andshell-fish, mingled with the Babel of voices from the throng of peoplewho loitered about the street, which was regarded as the promenade ofthe neighbourhood. Sounds of musical instruments and a loud chorus camefrom the upper windows of many of the public-houses and from the lowmusic-halls known by the name of "penny gaffs."
It was in front of one of these that the party stopped. Unlike theothers, no row of flaring lights burned over the entrance, no posterswith huge letters and sensational headings invited the public to enter;one solitary lamp hung over the door, which was kept closed; men werepassing in, however, after exchanging a word with one of those stationedat the door.
"It's a private sort of affair," Perkins said; "none ain't supposed togo but those as is in the swim. They pretend to be mighty afraid of thepeelers; but, Lor' bless you! the police don't trouble about them. Whenthese chaps gets to making rows in the street, and to kicking up arumpus, then they will have something to say about it sharp enough; butas long as they merely spout and argue among themselves, the peelerslets them go on. Well, young gents, here we goes."
Bill Lowe advanced first; he was known to the doorkeeper, and the words"All right, mate, friends of mine," were sufficient. He stood aside, andthe party entered. Passing through a passage, they were in a hall somefifty feet long by half as wide; the walls had originally been paintedblue, with wreaths of flowers along the top, but these and the roof wereso discoloured by smoke and dirt, that the whole were reduced to a dingybrown. At the end at which they entered was a gallery extending somefifteen feet into the room, at the other end was a raised platform, witha drop curtain. The latter was now raised, and displayed a table withhalf a dozen chairs. The chairman for the evening was seated in thecentre of the table. He was a young man with a pale face, eyes bloodshotfrom many nights spent in the reeking atmosphere of the room, andtumbled hair, which looked as if weeks had passed since it had made theacquaintance of a brush. He had just risen as the party entered; theroom, which was fairly filled with men, rang with the applause which hadgreeted the speaker who had sat down.
"Fellow-workmen," said the chairman--("I wonder what you work at," Frankmuttered below his breath; "nothing that requires washing,anyhow.")--"Fellow-workmen, your cheers are evidence how deeply you havebeen moved by the noble words of my friend Mr. Duggins, and how yourblood boils at the hideous slavery to which we are condemned by atyrannical aristocracy. You will now be addressed by my eloquent friendMr. Simpkins, boot-closer."
THE BREAK-UP OF THE CHARTIST MEETING.]
Mr. Simpkins rose. He was a short, round-shouldered man, made stillshorter by the bend which he had acquired by the operation ofboot-closing; his eyes were small, and sunken in his head; his nose wideand flat, as if in his early youth he had fallen on the edge of a pewterpot, and he too had the appearance of regarding water with as deep anaversion as he viewed the aristocracy.
"Fellow-workmen," he began, "or rather I should sayfellow-slaves,"--this sentiment was received with a roar ofapplause,--"the time is approaching when our chains will be broken, whenthe bloodstained power known as the British Constitution will be rentand trampled under foot, when the myrmidons of power will flee before anuprisen people. They know it, these oppressors of ours; they tremble intheir palaces and mansions, where they feast upon the wealth drainedfrom the blood of the people. They know that the day is at hand, andthat the millions whose labour has created the wealth of this countryare about to reclaim their own."
A roar of applause went up as the speaker paused and mopped his foreheadwith a red handkerchief. But the applause was suddenly stilled by thesound of the emphatic "Bosh!" which Frank shouted at the top of hisvoice. Every one turned round, and shouts arose of "Who is that?" "Downwith him!" "Turn him out!" "Knock him down!" The orator seized theoccasion.
"A spy of the tottering government has intruded upon the deliberationsof this assembly, but I tell him I fear him not."
"Never mind, out he goes," one of the men shouted, and all began topress upon the little group standing at the back of the room, and fromone of whom the objectionable word had evidently come.
"We are in for a row, Mr. Norris, and no mistake," Perkins said; "thesooner we gets out of this the better."
But this was not so easily done; the crowd had already interposedbetween them and the door.
"Now stand back," Perkins said, "and let us out. We ain't no spies, andwe don't want to hurt any one. Some of you may know me: I am Perkins ofthe Black Dog, over at Westminster, so you had best leave us alone."
The greater part of those present, however, had imbibed sufficient torender them valorous, and a rush was made upon the party.
Their reception was a warm one; the five prize-fighters struck out rightand left, while Frank and his schoolfellows ably seconded them. A tallred-haired fellow who had singled out Frank, was met by a blow whichknocked him off his feet, and he fell backward as if shot. Theirvigorous blows drove the leading assailants back, and in spite of theirnumbers the crowd of angry men recoiled before their handful ofopponents.
"Come on," Perkins said, "make for the door; they are breaking up thechairs, and
we shall have it hot in a few minutes."
Keeping together, they fought their way, in spite of all opposition, tothe door, Perkins leading, while Bill Lowe brought up the rear. Theywere soon in the open air.
"Now," Perkins exclaimed, "you hook it, gents, as fast as you can; meand Bill will keep the door for a minute." The boys dashed off, andafter making at full speed into the Westminster Bridge Road, slackenedtheir pace, and walked quietly back to Dean's Yard. They were in highglee over their adventure, which all agreed had been a splendid lark,and was the more satisfactory as all had escaped without any mark whichwould testify against them. It was still early, and they had for twohours to walk the streets until the whistle of the fag at the windowtold them that all were in bed and quiet, and they might safely maketheir entry. This was effected without noise; the bolts were slippedinto their places again, and with their shoes in their hands, the partywent noiselessly up to their rooms.
