Dusty Diamonds Cut and Polished: A Tale of City Arab Life and Adventure by - (best self help books to read txt) đ
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âBut why did you refuse so good an offer?â asked Hetty, still unable to repress her surprise.
âBecause of daddy.â
âDaddy?â
âAy, daddy. You know heâs fond oâ me, is daddy, and, dâye know, though pârâaps you maynât believe it, Iâm raither fond oâ him; but âeâs a bad âun, is daddy. Heâs bent on mischief, you see, anâ âeâs set his âart on my âelpinâ of âim. But I wont âelp âimâthatâs flat. Now, what dâye think, Hetty,â (here he dropped his voice to almost a whisper and looked solemn), âdad wants to make use oâ me to commit a burglary on Swallowâd-the-pokerâs âouse.â
âYou donât mean it, Bobby!â
âBut I do, Hetty. Dad found out from that rediklous butler that goes veepinâ around our court like a leeky pump, that the old genâlâman was goinâ to hoffer me this sitivation, an âeâs bin wery âard on me to accept it, so that I may find out the ways oâ the âouse where the plate anâ waluables lay, let âim in some fine dark night anâ âelp âim to carry off the swag.â
A distressed expression marked poor Hettyâs reception of this news, but she said never a word.
âNow you wonât tell, Hetty?â said the boy with a look of real anxiety on his face. âItâs not so much his killinâ me I cares about, but I wouldnât bring daddy to grief for any money. Iâd raither âelp âim than that. Youâll not say a word to nobody?â
âNo, Bobby, I wonât say a word.â
âVell, you see,â continued the boy, âven Iâd made myself so disagreeable that the old genâlâman would âave nothinâ to do with me, I came straight away, anâ âere I am; but it was a trial, let me tell you, specially ven âe come to mention wagesâan sitch a âeavenly smell oâ roasted wittles come up from the kitchen too at the moment, but I âad only to look at Miss Di, to make me as stubborn as a nox or a hass. âWot!â thinks I to myself, âbetray that hangelâno, never!â yet if I was to go into that âouse I know Iâd do it, for daddyâs got sitch a wheedlinâ way with âim wâen âe likes, that I couldnât âold hout longâso I givâ old Swallowed-the-poker sitch a lot oâ cheek that I thought âeâd kick me right through the winder. He was considerable astonished as well as riled, I can tell you, anâ Miss Diâs face was a picturâ, but the old butler was the sight. Heâd got âis face screwed up into sitch a state oâ surprise that it looked like a eight-day clock with a gamboil. Now, Hetty, Iâm goinâ to tell âee whatâll take your breath away. Iâve made up my mind to go to Canada!â
Hetty did, on hearing this, look as if her breath had been taken away. When it returned sufficiently she said:
âBobby, what put that into your head?â
âThe âOme of Hindustry,â said Bobby with a mysterious look.
âThe Home of Industry,â repeated the girl in surprise, for she knew that Institution well, having frequently assisted its workers in their labour of love.
âYes, thatâs the nameââOme of Hindustry, what sends off so many ragged boys to Canada under Miss Macpherson.â
âAy, Bobby, it does a great deal more than that,â returned the girl. âSending off poor boys and girls to Canada is only one branch of its work. If youâd bin to its tea-meetinâs for the destitute, as I have, anâ its clothinâ meetinâs and its mothersâ meetinâs, anââ
ââOw dâye know I âavenât bin at âem all?â asked the boy with an impudent look.
âWell, you know, you couldnât have been at the mothersâ meetings, Bobby.â
âOh! for the matter oâ that, no more could you.â
âTrue, but Iâve heard of them all many and many a time; but come, tell me all about it. How did you come to go near the Home of Industry at all after refusing so often to go with me?â
âVell, I didnât go because of beinâ axed to go, you may be sure oâ that, but my little dosser, Tim Lumpy, you remember âim? The cove wiâ the nose like a button, anâ no body to speak ofâall legs anâ arms, like a âuman winâ-mill; vell, you must know theyâve nabbed âim, anâ given âim a rig-out oâ noo slops, anâ theyâre goinâ to send âim to Canada. So I âappened to be down near the âOme one day three weeks past, anâ I see Lumpy a-goinâ in. ââAllo!â says I. ââAllo!â says âe; anâ then âe told me all about it. âDoes they feed you well?â I axed. âOh! donât they, just!â said âe. âThereâs to be a blow hout this wery night,â said âe. âI wonder,â says I, âif theyâd let me in, for Iâm uncommon âungry, I tell you; âad nuffinâ to heat since last night.â Just as I said that, a lot oâ fellers like me came tumblinâ up to the doorâso I sneaked in wiâ the restâfor I thought theyâd kick me hout if they knowed Iâd come without inwitation.â
âWell, and what then?â asked Hetty.
Here our little street-Arab began to tell, in his own peculiar language and style, how that he went in, and found a number of ladies in an upper room with forms set, and hot tea and bread to be hadâas much as they could stuffâfor nothing; that the boys were very wild and unruly at first, but that after the chief lady had prayed they became better, and that when half-a-dozen nice little girls were brought in and had sung a hymn or two they were quite quiet and ready to listen. Like many other people, this city Arab did not like to speak out freely, even to his sister, on matters that touched his feelings deeply, but he said enough to let the eager and thankful Hetty know that not only had Jesus and His love been preached to the boys, but she perceived that what had been said and sung had made an unusual impression, though the little ragged waif sought to conceal it under the veil of cool pleasantry, and she now recognised the fact that the prayers which she had been putting up for many a day in her brotherâs behalf had been answered.
âOh! Iâm so happy,â she said; and, unable to restrain herself, flung her arms round Bobbyâs neck and kissed him.
It was evident that the little fellow rather liked this, though he pretended that he did not.
âCome, old gal,â he said brusquely, ânone oâ that sort oâ thing. I canât stand it. Donât you see, the popilation is lookinâ at us in surprise; besides, youâve bin anâ crushed all my shirt front!â
âBut,â continued Hetty, as they walked on again, âIâm not happy to hear that you are goinâ to Canada. What ever will I do without you, Bobby?â
Poor girl, she could well afford to do without him in one sense, for he had hitherto been chiefly an object of anxiety and expense to her, though also an object of love.
âIâm sorry to think of goinâ too, Hetty, for your sake anâ motherâs, but for daddyâs sake and my own I must go. You see, I canât âold hout agin âim. Wâen âe makes up âis mind to a thing you know âe sticks to it, for âeâs a tough un; anâ âeâs got sitch a wheedlinâ sort oâ way with âim that I canât âelp givinâ in aâmost. So, you see, itâll be better for both of us that I should go away. But Iâll come back, you know, Hetty, with a fortinâsee if I donâtâanâ then, oh! wonât I keep a carridge anâ a ridinâ âoss for daddy, anâ feed mother anâ you on plum-duff anâ pork sassengers to breakfast, dinner, anâ supper, with ice cream for a relish!â
Poor Hetty did not even smile at this prospect of temporal felicity. She felt that in the main the boy was right, and that the only chance he had of escaping the toils in which her father was wrapping him by the strange union of affection and villainy, was to leave the country. She knew, also, that, thanks to the Home of Industry and its promoters, the sending of a ragged, friendless, penniless London waif, clothed and in his right mind, to a new land of bright and hopeful prospects, was an event brought within the bounds of possibility.
That night Bob Frog stood with his dosser, (i.e. his friend), Tim Lumpy, discussing their future prospects in the partial privacy of a railway-arch. They talked long, and, for waifs, earnestlyâboth as to the land they were about to quit and that to which they were going; and the surprising fact might have been noted by a listenerâhad there been any such present, save a homeless catâthat neither of the boys perpetrated a joke for the space of at least ten minutes.
âVy,â observed little Frog at length, âyou seem to âave got all the fun drove out oâ you, Lumpy.â
âNot a bit on it,â returned the other, with a hurt look, as though he had been charged with some serious misdemeanour, âbut it do seem sitch a shabby thing to go anâ forsake my blind old mother.â
âBut yer blind old mother wants you to go,â said Bobby, âanâ says sheâll be well looked arter by the ladies of the âOme, and that she wouldnât stand in the way oâ your prospecâs. Besides, she ainât yer mother!â
This was true. Tim Lumpy had neither father nor mother, nor relative on earth, and the old woman who, out of sheer pity, had taken him in and allowed him to call her âmother,â was a widow at the lowest possible round of that social ladder, at the top of whichâfiguratively speakingâsits Her Gracious Majesty the Queen. Mrs Lumpy had found him on her door-step, weeping and in rags, at the early age of five years. She had taken him in, and fed him on part of a penny loaf which formed the sole edible substance for her own breakfast. She had mended his rags to the extent of her ability, but she had not washed his face, having no soap of her own, and not caring to borrow from neighbours who were in the same destitute condition. Besides, she had too hard a battle to fight with an ever-present and pressing foe, to care much about dirt, and no doubt deemed a wash of tears now and then sufficient. Lumpy himself seemed to agree with her as to this, for he washed himself in that fashion frequently.
Having sought for his parents in vain, with the aid of the police, Mrs Lumpy quietly kept the boy on; gave him her surname, prefixed that of Timothy, answered to the call of mother, and then left him to do very much as he pleased.
In these circumstances, it was not surprising that little Tim soon grew to be one of the pests of his alley. Tim was a weak-eyed boy, and remarkably thin, being, as his friend had said, composed chiefly of legs and arms. There must have been a good deal of brain also, for he was keen-witted, as people soon began to find out to their cost. Tim was observant also. He observed, on nearing the age of ten years, that in the great river of life which daily flowed past him, there were certain faces which indicated tender and kindly hearts, coupled with defective brain-action, and a good deal of self-will. He became painfully shrewd in reading such faces, and, on wet days, would present himself to them with his bare little red feet and half-naked body, rain water, (doing duty for tears), running from his weak bloodshot eyes, and falsehoods of the most pitiable, complex, and impudent character pouring from his thin blue lips, whilst awful solemnity seemed to shine on his visage. The certain result wasâcoppers!
These kindly
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