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
It was Glad who set the battered kettle on and when it boiled made tea. The other two watched her, being under her spell. She handed out slices of bread and sausage and pudding on bits of paper. Polly fed with tremulous haste; Glad herself with rejoicing and exulting in flavors. Antony Dart ate bread and meat as he had eaten the bread and dripping at the stallâaccepting his normal hunger as part of the dream.
Suddenly Glad paused in the midst of a huge bite.
âMister,â she said, âpâraps that coveâs waitinâ fer yer. Letâs âave âim in. Iâll go and fetch âim.â
She was getting up, but Dart was on his feet first.
âI must go,â he said. âHe is expecting me andââ
âAw,â said Glad, âlemme go along oâ yer, misterâjest to show thereâs no ill feelinâ.â
âVery well,â he answered.
It was she who led, and he who followed. At the door she stopped and looked round with a grin.
âKeep up the fire, Polly,â she threw back. âAinât it warm and cheerful? Itâll do the cove good to see it.â
She led the way down the black, unsafe stairway. She always led.
Outside the fog had thickened again, but she went through it as if she could see her way.
At the entrance to the court the thief was standing, leaning against the wall with fevered, unhopeful waiting in his eyes. He moved miserably when he saw the girl, and she called out to reassure him.
âI ainât up to no âarm,â she said; âI onây come with the gent.â
Antony Dart spoke to him.
âDid you get food?â
The man shook his head.
âI turned faint after you left me, and when I came to I was afraid I might miss you,â he answered. âI darenât lose my chance. I bought some bread and stuffed it in my pocket. Iâve been eating it while Iâve stood here.â
âCome back with us,â said Dart. âWe are in a place where we have some food.â
He spoke mechanically, and was aware that he did so. He was a pawn pushed about upon the board of this dayâs life.
âCome on,â said the girl. âYer can get enough to last fer three days.â
She guided them back through the fog until they entered the murky doorway again. Then she almost ran up the staircase to the room they had left.
When the door opened the thief fell back a pace as before an unex-pected thing. It was the flare of firelight which struck upon his eyes. He passed his hand over them.
âA fire!â he said. âI havenât seen one for a week. Coming out of the blackness it gives a man a start.â
Improvident joy gleamed in Gladâs eyes.
âWe âll be warm onct,â she chuckled, âif we ainât never warm agaen.â
She drew her circle about the hearth again. The thief took the place next to her and she handed out food to himâa big slice of meat, bread, a thick slice of pudding.
âFill yerself up,â she said. âThen yeâll feel like yer can talk.â
The man tried to eat his food with decorum, some recollection of the habits of better days restraining him, but starved nature was too much for him. His hands shook, his eyes filled, his teeth tore. The rest of the circle tried not to look at him. Glad and Polly occupied themselves with their own food.
Antony Dart gazed at the fire. Here he sat warming himself in a loft with a beggar, a thief, and a helpless thing of the street. He had come out to buy a pistolâits weight still hung in his overcoat pocketâ and he had reached this place of whose existence he had an hour ago not dreamed. Each step which had led him had seemed a simple, inevitable thing, for which he had apparently been responsible, but which he knewâyes, somehow he KNEWâhe had of his own volition neither planned nor meant. Yet here he sat âa part of the lives of the beggar, the thief, and the poor thing of the street. What did it mean?
âTell me,â he said to the thief, âhow you came here.â
By this time the young fellow had fed himself and looked less like a wolf. It was to be seen now that he had blue-gray eyes which were dreamy and young.
âI have always been inventing things,â he said a little huskily. âI did it when I was a child. I always seemed to see there might be a way of doing a thing betterâgetting more power. When other boys were playing games I was sitting in corners trying to build models out of wire and string, and old boxes and tin cans. I often thought I saw the way to things, but I was always too poor to get what was needed to work them out. Twice I heard of men making great names and for tunes because they had been able to finish what I could have finished if I had had a few pounds. It used to drive me mad and break my heart.â His hands clenched themselves and his huskiness grew thicker. âThere was a man,â catching his breath, âwho leaped to the top of the ladder and set the whole world talking and writingâand I had done the thing FIRSTâI swear I had! It was all clear in my brain, and I was half mad with joy over it, but I could not afford to work it out. He could, so to the end of time it will be HIS.â He struck his fist upon his knee.
âAw!â The deep little drawl was a groan from Glad.
âI got a place in an office at last. I worked hard, and they began to trust me. Iâhad a new idea. It was a big one. I needed money to work it out. IâI remembered what had happened before. I felt like a poor fellow running a race for his life. I KNEW I could pay back ten timesâa hundred timesâwhat I took.â
âYou took money?â said Dart.
The thiefâs head dropped.
âNo. I was caught when I was taking it. I wasnât sharp enough. Someone came in and saw me, and there was a crazy row. I was sent to prison. There was no more trying after that. Itâs nearly two years since, and Iâve been hanging about the streets and falling lower and lower. Iâve run miles panting after cabs with luggage in them and not had strength to carry in the boxes when they stopped. Iâve starved and slept out of doors. But the thing I wanted to work out is in my mind all the timeâlike some machine tearing round. It wants to be finished. It never will be. Thatâs all.â
Glad was leaning forward staring at him, her roughened hands with the smeared cracks on them clasped round her knees.
âThings âAS to be finished,â she said. âThey finish theirselves.â
âHow do you know?â Dart turned on her.
âDunno âOW I knowâbut I do. When things begin they finish. Itâs like a wheel rollinâ down an âill.â Her sharp eyes fixed themselves on Dartâs. âAll of us âll finish somethinââ âcos weâve begun. You will âPolly willââe willâI will.â She stopped with a sudden sheepish chuckle and dropped her forehead on her knees, giggling. âDunno wot I âm talking about,â she said, âbut itâs true.â
Dart began to understand that it was. And he also saw that this ragged thing who knew nothing whatever, looked out on the world with the eyes of a seer, though she was ignorant of the meaning of her own knowledge. It was a weird thing. He turned to the girl Polly.
âTell me how you came here,â he said.
He spoke in a low voice and gently. He did not want to frighten her, but he wanted to know how SHE had begun. When she lifted her childish eyes to his, her chin began to shake. For some reason she did not question his right to ask what he would. She answered him meekly, as her fingers fumbled with the stuff of her dress.
âI lived in the country with my mother,â she said. âWe was very happy together. In the spring there was primroses andâand lambs. I âcanât abide to look at the sheep in the park these days. They remind me so. There was a girl in the village got a place in town and came back and told us all about it. It made me silly. I wanted to come here, too. IâI cameââ She put her arm over her face and began to sob.
âShe canât tell you,â said Glad. âThere was a swell in the âouse made love to her. She used to carry up coals to âis parlor anâ âe talked to âer. âE âad a wye with âimââ
Polly broke into a smothered wail.
âOh, I did love him soâI did!â she cried. âIâd have let him walk over me. Iâd have let him kill me.â
â âE nearly did it,â said Glad.
â âE went away sudden anâ she âs never âeard word of âim since.â
From under Pollyâs face-hiding arm came broken words.
âI couldnât tell my mother. I did not know how. I was too frightened and ashamed. Now itâs too late. I shall never see my mother again, and it seems as if all the lambs and primroses in the world was dead. Oh, theyâre deadâtheyâre deadâ and I wish I was, too!â
Gladâs eyes winked rapidly and she gave a hoarse little cough to clear her throat. Her arms still clasping her knees, she hitched herself closer to the girl and gave her a nudge with her elbow.
âBuck up, Polly,â she said, âwe ainât none of us finished yet. Look at us nowâsittinâ by our own fire with bread and puddinâ inside usâ anâ think wot we was this morninâ. Who knows wot we âll âave this time to-morrer.â
Then she stopped and looked with a wide grin at Antony Dart.
âOw did I come âere?â she said.
âYes,â he answered, âhow did you come here?â
âI dunno,â she said; âI was âere first thing I remember. I lived with a old woman in another âouse in the court. One morninâ when I woke up she was dead. Sometimes Iâve begged anâ sold matches. Sometimes Iâve took care of womenâs children or âelped âem when they âad to lie up. Iâve seen a lotâbut I like to see a lot. âOpe Iâll see a lot more afore Iâm done. Iâm used to beinâ âungry anâ cold, anâ all that, butâbut I allers like to see whatâs cominâ to-morrer. Thereâs allers somethinâ else to-morrer. Thatâs all about ME,â and she chuckled again.
Dart picked up some fresh sticks and threw them on the fire. There was some fine crackling and a new flame leaped up.
âIf you could do what you liked,â he said, âwhat would you like to do?â
Her chuckle became an outright laugh.
âIf I âad ten pounds?â she asked, evidently prepared to adjust herself in imagination to any form of un-looked-for good luck.
âIf you had more?â
His tone made the thief lift his head to look at him.
âIf I âad a wand like the one Jem told me was in the pantermine?â
âYes,â he answered.
She sat and stared at the fire a few moments, and then began to speak in a low luxuriating voice.
âIâd get a better room,â she said, revelling. âThere âs one in the next âouse. Iâd âave a few sticks oâ furnisher in itâa bed anâ a chair or two. Iâd get some warm petticuts anâ a shawl anâ a âatâwith a ostrich feather
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