The Dawn of a To-morrow by Frances Hodgson Burnett (good story books to read TXT) đ
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- Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett
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Book online «The Dawn of a To-morrow by Frances Hodgson Burnett (good story books to read TXT) đ». Author Frances Hodgson Burnett
âGawd, mister!â she said. âYer can give away a quid like it was nothinââanâ yerâve got moreâanâ yer goinâ to do THATâjes cos yer âad a bit too much lars night anâ thereâs a fog this morninâ! You take it straight from meâdonât yer do it. I give yer that tip for the suvrink.â
She was, for her years, so ugly and so ancient, and hardened in voice and skin and manner that she fascinated him. Not that a man who has no To-morrow in view is likely to be particularly conscious of mental processes. He was done for, but he stood and stared at her. What part of the Power moving the scheme of the universe stood near and thrust him on in the path designed he did not know thenâperhaps never did. He was still holding on to the thing in his pocket, but he spoke to her again.
âWhat do you mean?â he asked glumly.
She sidled nearer, her sharp eyes on his face.
âI bin watchinâ yer,â she said. âI sat down and pulled the sack over me âead to breathe inside it anâ get a bit warm. Anâ I see yer come. I knowed wot yer was after, I did. I watched yer through a âole in me sack. I wasnât goinâ to call a copper. I shouldnât want ter be stopped meself if I made up me mind. I seed a gal dragged out lasâ week anâ itâd a broke yer âart to see âer tear âer clothes anâ scream. Wot business âad they preventinâ âer goinâ off quiet? I wouldnât âaâ stopped yer âbut wâen the quid fell, that made it different.â
âIââ he said, feeling the foolishness of the statement, but making it, nevertheless, âI am ill.â
âCourse yer ill. Itâs yer âead. Come along er me anâ get a cup er cawfee at a stand, anâ buck up. If yerâve give me that quid straightâ wish-yer-may-dieâIâll go with yer anâ get a cup myself. I ainât âad a bite since yesterdayâanâ ât waânât nothinâ but a slice oâ polony sossidge I found on a dust-âeap. Come on, mister.â
She pulled his coat with her cracked hand. He glanced down at it mechanically, and saw that some of the fissures had bled and the roughened surface was smeared with the blood. They stood together in the small space in which the fog enclosed themâhe and sheâthe man with no To-morrow and the girl thing who seemed as old as himself, with her sharp, small nose and chin, her sharp eyes and voice âand yetâperhaps the fogs enclosing did itâsomething drew them together in an uncanny way. Something made him forget the lost clew to the lodging-houseâ something made him turn and go with herâa thing led in the dark.
âHow can you find your way?â he said. âI lost mine.â
âThere ainât no fog can lose me,â she answered, shuffling along by his side; â âsides, itâs goinâ to lift. Look at that man cominâ toâards us.â
It was true that they could see through the orange-colored mist the approaching figure of a man who was at a yardâs distance from them. Yes, it was lifting slightlyâat least enough to allow of oneâs making a guess at the direction in which one moved.
âWhere are you going?â he asked.
âApple Blossom Court,â she answered. âThe cawfee-standâs in a street near itâand thereâs a shop where I can buy things.â
âApple Blossom Court!â he ejaculated. âWhat a name!â
âThere ainât no apple-blossoms there,â chuckling; ânor no smell of âem. âT ainât as nice as its nime isâApple Blossom Court ainât.â
âWhat do you want to buy? A pair of shoes?â The shoes her naked feet were thrust into were leprous-looking things through which nearly all her toes protruded. But she chuckled when he spoke.
âNo, I âm goinâ to buy a diâmond tirarer to go to the opery in,â she said, dragging her old sack closer round her neck. âI ainât ad a noo un since I went to the last Drorinâ- room.â
It was impudent street chaff, but there was cheerful spirit in it, and cheerful spirit has some occult effect upon morbidity. Antony Dart did not smile, but he felt a faint stirring of curiosity, which was, after all, not a bad thing for a man who had not felt an interest for a year.
âWhat is it you are going to buy?â
âIâm goinâ to fill me stummick fust,â with a grin of elation. âThree thick slices oâ bread anâ drippinâ anâ a mug oâ cawfee. Anâ then Iâm goinâ to get sumethinâ âearty to carry to Polly. She ainât no good, pore thing!â
âWho is she?â
Stopping a moment to drag up the heel of her dreadful shoe, she answered him with an unprejudiced directness which might have been appalling if he had been in the mood to be appalled.
âAinât eighteen, anâ tryinâ to earn âer livinâ on the street. She ainât made for it. Little country thing, allus frightened to death anâ ready to bust out cryinâ. Gents ainât goinâ to stand that. A lot of âem wants cheerinâ up as much as she does. Gent as was in liquor last night knocked âer down anâ give âer a black eye. âT wanât ill feelinâ, but he lost his temper, anâ give âer a knock casual. She canât go out to-night, anâ sheâs been âuddled up all day cryinâ for âer mother.â
âWhere is her mother?â
âIn the countryâon a farm. Polly took a place in a lodginâ-âouse anâ got in trouble. The biby was dead, anâ when she come out oâ Queen Charlotteâs she was took in by a woman anâ kepâ. She kicked âer out in a week âcos of her cryinâ. The life didnât suit âer. I found âer cryinâ fit to split âer chist one night âcorner oâ Apple Blossom Courtâ anâ I took care of âer.â
âWhere?â
âMe chambers,â grinning; âtop loft of a âouse in the court. If anyone else âd âave it I should be turned out. Itâs an âole, I can tell yerâ but it âs better than sleepinâ under the bridges.â
âTake me to see it,â said Antony Dart. âI want to see the girl.â
The words spoke themselves. Why should he care to see either cockloft or girl? He did not. He wanted to go back to his lodgings with that which he had come out to buy. Yet he said this thing. His companion looked up at him with an expression actually relieved.
âWould yer tike up with âer?â with eager sharpness, as if confronting a simple business proposition. âSheâs pretty anâ clean, anâ she wonât drink a drop oâ nothinâ. If she was treated kind sheâd be cheerfler. Sheâs got a round fice anâ light âair anâ eyes. âEr âair âs curly. Pâraps yerâd like âer.â
âTake me to see her.â
âSheâd look better to-morrow,â cautiously, âwhen the swellin âs gone down round âer eye.â
Dart startedâand it was because he had for the last five minutes forgotten something.
âI shall not be here to-morrow,â he said. His grasp upon the thing in his pocket had loosened, and he tightened it.
âI have some more money in my purse,â he said deliberately. âI meant to give it away before going. I want to give it to people who need it very much.â
She gave him one of the sly, squinting glances.
âDeservinâ cases?â She put it to him in brazen mockery.
âI donât care,â he answered slowly and heavily. âI donât care a damn.â
Her face changed exactly as he had seen it change on the bridge when she had drawn nearer to him. Its ugly hardness suddenly looked human. And that she could look human was fantastic.
â âOw much âave yer?â she asked. â âOw much is it?â
âAbout ten pounds.â
She stopped and stared at him with open mouth.
âGawd!â she broke out; âten pounds âd send Apple Blossom Court to âeving. Leastways, itâd take some of it out oâ âell.â
âTake me to it,â he said roughly. âTake me.â
She began to walk quickly, breathing fast. The fog was lighter, and it was no longer a blinding thing.
A question occurred to Dart.
âWhy donât you ask me to give the money to you?â he said bluntly.
âDunno,â she answered as bluntly. But after taking a few steps farther she spoke again.
âI âm cheerfler than most of âem,â she elaborated. âIf yer born cheerfle yer can stand things. When I gets a job nussinâ womenâs bibies they donât cry when I âandles âem. I gets many a bite anâ a copper âcos oâ that. Folks likes yer. I shall get on better than Polly when Iâm old enough to go on the street.â
The organ of whose lagging, sick pumpings Antony Dart had scarcely been aware for months gave a sudden leap in his breast. His blood actually hastened its pace, and ran through his veins instead of crawling âa distinct physical effect of an actual mental condition. It was produced upon him by the mere matter-of-fact ordinariness of her tone. He had never been a senti-mental man, and had long ceased to be a feeling one, but at that moment something emotional and normal happened to him.
âYou expect to live in that way?â he said.
âAinât nothinâ else fer me to do. Wisht I was better lookinâ. But Iâve got a lot of âair,â clawing her mop, âanâ itâs red. One day,â chuckling, âa gent ses to meâhe ses: `Oh! yerâll do. Yer an ugly little devilâbut ye ARE a devil.â â
She was leading him through a narrow, filthy back street, and she stopped, grinning up in his face.
âI say, mister,â she wheedled, âletâs stop at the cawfee-stand. Itâs up this way.â
When he acceded and followed her, she quickly turned a corner. They were in another lane thick with fog, which flared with the flame of torches stuck in costersâ barrows which stood here and thereâ barrows with fried fish upon them, barrows with second-hand-looking vegetables and others piled with more than second-hand-looking garments. Trade was not driving, but near one or two of them dirty, ill-used looking women, a man or so, and a few children stood. At a corner which led into a black hole of a court, a coffee-stand was stationed, in charge of a burly ruffian in corduroys.
âCome along,â said the girl. âThere it is. It ainât strong, but it âs âot.â
She sidled up to the stand, drawing Dart with her, as if glad of his protection.
â âEllo, Barney,â she said. â âEre âs a gent warnts a mug oâ yer best. Iâve âad a bit oâ luck, anâ I wants one mesself.â
âGarn,â growled Barney. âYou anâ yer luck! Gent may want a mug, but yâd show yer money fust.â
âStrewth! Iâve got it. Yâ aint got the chinge fer wot I âave in me âand âere. âAs âe, mister?â
âShow it,â taunted the man, and then turning to Dart. âYer wants a mug oâ cawfee?â
âYes.â
The girl held out her hand cautiouslyâthe piece of gold lying upon its palm.
âLook âere,â she said.
There were two or three men slouching about the stand. Suddenly a hand darted from between two of them who stood nearest, the sovereign was snatched, a screamed oath from the girl rent the thick air, and a forlorn enough scarecrow of a young fellow sprang away.
The blood leaped in Antony Dartâs veins again and he sprang after him in a wholly normal passion of indignation. A thousand years agoâas it seemed to himâhe had been a good runner. This man was not one, and want of food had weakened him. Dart went after him with strides which astonished himself. Up the street, into an alley and out of it, a dozen yards more and into
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