CHAPTER XXVII.
RE-ENTER THE DUMPLING.
"He'sonly starving!" the woman had said. But as I stooped to lift the frail little figure from the ground, as I hurried with it across the street and into the baker's shop, there to wet the white lips with a restorative—a prayer that was like the spurting of blood from a wound, a prayer that shot a pang of actual physical pain to my heart—so poignant, so terrible was my remorse—surged up unuttered but not unheard, within me.
"Lord Christ, lover of little children, spare and heal this Thy stricken little child. Forgive and pardon such as I, who, living our selfish, easeful lives, have closed our ears and shut our eyes to the suffering and the misery around us. Help us to repent. Lash us, if need be, with Thy whip of pain, burn us, if it seem good to Thee, with the scorching of fire, but awaken us, arouse us, thaw this cruel, frozen heartwithin us, that we be forgetful of the sufferings of these our fellow-creatures no more. Amen."
And the prayer was heard—as every prayer that is uttered in earnest is heard—on high. The restorative did its work. The cup of warm milk, which—perhaps with a thought of Him who said, "And whosoever shall give to drink one of these little ones a cup of cold water only ... shall in no wise lose his reward"—was held to his lips by the good woman, put new life into him; and before long Timmy and I were able to gather together our belongings, and to return to No. 18, Cripps Court.
There, his mother brewing the tea, and the rest of the household sitting around discussing the contents of my basket, I made the happiest meal of my life. The Wright family were equally happy, and listened to the continuation of my story of the performing dog with uproarious laughter.
The mere fact that one, not in their own station of life, could, by coming among them as one of themselves—asking no questions, laying down no laws, but by talking to the children, taking the little ones upon his knee, to show his watch or the dog'shead on his walking-stick—so please and delight them, was to me tragic.
The good fellowship, the realisation of the common bond of human sympathy which—whether they wear corduroy or broadcloth, silk hats or coster caps, satin gown or cotton frock—should bind men and women together, seemed to cheer them in spirit as much, if not more, than their bodies had been cheered by the food.
After a time Mrs. Wright departed, taking the children with her, to execute some shopping commissions for me, and then Wright and I settled down for a chat.
It was not long before I learned his reason for fearing, when I had first entered, that I was what he had called "another of the —— spies."
"It's this way, sir," he said. "Two ladies called afore you come. The missis was out, or she wouldn't have let 'em in, but they came in without bein' asked, and sat down—at least, one on 'em did—on this box, and the other, she walked all around the place, sniffing like to herself, and talking aloud about what she called the 'dirt.'
"'So your name's Wright, and you'reout of work, are you?' says the sitting-down one to me.
"'Yes,' I says, short like.
"'And what church do you attend?'
"'I don't attend none,' I says. 'The missis she goes sometimes of a Sunday evening, and the kids goes to Sunday school.'
"'And wot church does your wife go to—and what Sunday school do the children attend?' puts in the other lady, having done all the sniffing round she could.
"'Wesleyan,' I says.
"'H'm!' she says. 'Dissenters! That's bad! Don't you and your wife know that the Church of England is the Established Church of the land, and that it's displeasing to Almighty God—not to say anything about your wife's duty—in letting the children attend a sectarian place of worship?'
"'No,' I says; 'I don't.'
"'And what wages do you earn when you're in work, Wright?' she says.
"'Well,' I says, 'when I was a farm labourer I only made thirteen bob a week, but since I come to town I got about eighteen shillings when I was in work.'
"'And how much did you save out of that?'
"'Why, nothink,' I said. 'I 'ad a 'ouse then, and the rent was eight and six a week; and nine and six don't go far to feed and clothe five.'
"'Nonsense!' she says. 'You should always put by a percentage of what you earn, no matter how small it is, against a rainy day. The improvidence, the thriftlessness, of you poor is criminal! I'm afraid you're an idle, worthless fellow, Wright,' she says, 'and not deserving of any help until I see that you've reformed your ways.'"
Then, moved perhaps by the memory of his recent privations, he suddenly seemed to lose all self-control. Springing to his feet, he shook his clenched fist in the air, as with flaming face and voice hoarse with frenzy, he shouted:
"Reform my ways? Idle, worthless fellow, am I? Ah! but the days of grinding us down are gone. The days of them that oppress the poor are over! It's Labour that's going to lord it now, and make the laws, and rule the land. The millions on millions who starve and sweat and labour are no longer to be the toys and tools of the few thousands that sweat them, so that the idle few may live on the fat ofthe land. The millions have found their leader at last—the man to organise them into armies, and to lay the mines of the revolution that's close at hand, the man that's——"
"Cease your ranting!" I interrupted sternly, for his voice had risen to a screech. "Do you want to arouse the neighbourhood? I've heard all that stuff before, and from the lips of the man who first uttered it—for you are not speaking your own words. You are only speaking words that have been put into your mouth. Wrongs you have, no doubt, but rant and rioting won't right them, and I tell you——"
I was not allowed to finish the sentence. Someone who had no doubt been listening in the passage outside suddenly sprang in, and before I could turn—for my back was to the door—had seized me so as to pin both my arms to my sides.
I did not need to be told the name of my assailant, to see his face, or to hear his voice. Only one man whom I had ever met had arms of such gorilla-like length, of such giant strength.
It was the Dumpling!