The Project Gutenberg eBook of The seed she sowed.
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: The seed she sowed.
A tale of the great dock strike.
Author: Emma Leslie
Release date: August 5, 2024 [eBook #74190]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Blackie and Son Limited, 1891
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEED SHE SOWED. ***
Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
The Seed She Sowed
A Tale of the Great Dock Strike
BY
EMMA LESLIE
Author of "Arthur's Inheritance," "Gytha's Message,"
"A Gypsy Against Her Will," &c.
_ILLUSTRATED_
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON, GLASGOW, AND BOMBAY
CONTENTS.
—————
CHAP.
I. WINNY CHAPLIN'S HOME
II. NEW WORK
III. THE NEIGHBOURS
IV. WHAT PASSION DID
V. WINNY'S SACRIFICE
VI. ONE WINDY MORNING
VII. THE STRIKE
VIII. CONCLUSION
THE SEED SHE SOWED.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I.
WINNY CHAPLIN'S HOME.
"FATHER won't be long now, and as he didn't get any work yesterday,
he's sure to to-day. He allus does, I've noticed," and the speaker, a
pretty little girl of ten, carefully dropped a few cinders on the fire
as she spoke, that the room might look bright and cheerful for her
father when he came in from his work at the docks.
"Are you very hungry, Letty?" asked a voice from the corner.
The girl sitting in the glow of the firelight turned towards the
shadowed corner where her sister lay on a home-made couch of boxes and
asked: "Will you want some more medicine, do you think?"
"I'm afraid so; I haven't had any for a week, and my back is getting
bad again. But we won't say anything about it till we see how much
father gets to-day. Mother is sure to get eighteen pence for her
washing at Mrs. Rutter's, so she might be able to spare sixpence for a
bottle of medicine if father got a day's work too."
"He wouldn't get a whole day—why, he hasn't had a whole day's work for
a long time! But he might get a shilling or perhaps a little more, and
then I should think you might have the medicine. I'll go and have a
look up the street and see if he is coming, for I know you want your
tea badly by this time. I had my dinner at the mission-hall, so I'm not
so hungry as you are." And as she spoke she opened the door, letting
out a glow of ruddy firelight that drew another girl to the doorway.
"How are you to-day, Winny?" she said thrusting her head in and
looking round the room. "How jolly you always look in here!" she added
surveying the little room, that did have an air of comfort about it in
spite of its shabby furniture, which looked quite rich and luxurious in
the glow of the firelight.
There was a carpet on the floor that still retained patches of crimson
here and there. Winny's box couch, too, was covered with a patchwork
of cretonne which looked bright and pretty; and there was an arm-chair
covered in the same fashion on the other side of the fireplace, and
a little round table in the middle of the room covered with a white
cloth, on which was set out the tea-cups and a plate or two, but not an
atom of food, because the last morsel was eaten at breakfast time, and
until father or mother came home with the day's earnings, no tea could
be had by the sisters.
Most eagerly did Letty peer into the darkness of the dreary little
street. The wind blew cuttingly cold off the river, and although it was
not much after five o'clock, it had been so dull and foggy all day that
now in the March wind everybody had been glad to get indoors, and no
one was to be seen moving about. Here and there lights twinkled in the
windows of the houses; but many, like this home window of Letty's, only
showed the red glow of a little cinder fire made ready for the festival
of the day—tea, when the children were at least sure of half a meal if
the father's earnings would not get them a whole one.
After looking up and down the street for either father or mother to
appear, Letty went indoors and upstairs, for she was shivering, and the
little stool by the fireside was more comfortable than the door-step.
"Was that Annie Brown went out just now?" she asked rather sharply as
she came in.
"Yes. She just looked in as she went by," answered the voice in the
corner.
"I wonder you talk to her, Winny, when you know they are all such a bad
lot," said her sister shutting the door with a bang.
"Oh, Annie is not so bad when you come to know her. Her father works at
the docks; gets more work, I think, than father does, and—"
"That may be, but still I know mother don't want me to go to play with
her," said Letty speaking somewhat severely.
But her sister only smiled to herself in the shadow. Letty was like
her mother, and prided herself on holding herself aloof from a good
many—nay, most of their neighbours, for they had not always been so
poor as they now were.
Chaplin had been a carpenter, but ill-health and bad times had thrown
him out of work, and he had drifted from one thing to the other until
at last he had been glad to get an occasional day's work at the docks
as a day labourer, while his wife got a little charing at some of the
larger houses close at hand.
In this way, a year or two had passed, during which, if they had sunk
no lower, they had made no headway towards recovering their position.
And during this time, the eldest girl, Winny, had gradually sunk into a
state of ill-health that at first seemed likely to add to her father's
despondency. But the girl herself developed a cheerfulness that made
her a very fountain of hope and good cheer for others, although she
seemed to have given up all thought of being any better herself.
No one seeing that pale patient face on the pillow of her couch would
ever have dreamt what she was, not only to her own mother, father,
and sister, but to all who lived in the house. When people came as
new tenants, they would hear from one and the other of "little Winny
Chaplin" before they had been in the house a week, and if anybody was
in trouble, Winny was sure to know all about it. The little back room
they occupied was in point of fact the heart of that house with its
cluster of households, and so it was no uncommon thing for one and the
other to open the door and exchange a word or two with the invalid,
especially when her mother was out all day.
In this way she learned to know her neighbours as her mother never
would; for there was something so winning about the girl, that people
talking to her forgot sometimes that she was only a girl, and told her
of troubles that they would have shrunk from imparting to older and
wiser friends. Then, too, Winny always had time to listen to their
stories, and the very telling them to such a sympathetic listener often
lifted the load a little; and if Winny could do no more, she would
whisper tenderly to her visitor: "God knows all about it, you know. I
will ask him to help you."
Sometimes a curious smile would part the lips of the complainer when
she said this, for however heavy the trouble under discussion might be,
it rarely happened that it was so great as that affliction she herself
was called upon to endure, and perhaps the visitor would add: "Do you
think God knows about your own trouble?"
"Oh yes, I'm sure he does," Winny would reply with a bright look. "He
is so good to me that—that—I hardly know how to be thankful enough.
I wasn't just at first, you know," she would hasten to add. "I used
to think that God ought to make me well quick, and let me go to
Sunday-school again; and when he did not seem to hear, and I got weaker
and weaker, I began to cry, until one day it all at once came over me
like a great light that God had some work for me to do lying still on
this couch. Then I thought how the Lord Jesus had been willing to come
and live here—and it must have been a very horrid place for him to live
in; but he came to do his Father's work and to save us, and so he did
not mind. And when I thought of this, I felt so glad that I forgot the
pain in my back for a long time. So, you see, God is helping me all the
time, for he is always pouring just as much gladness into my heart as I
can bear."
"But, Winny," the friends had said, "if God helps you as you say, why
does not he make you well? Don't you think he could?"
"Oh, yes, of course; and I daresay it would be quite as easy for him to
make me well as to give me so much gladness. But then it might not be
so good for me, or for the people about here. Don't you see I'm doing
God's work here? Only a little bit of course; but it is enough to make
anyone feel glad to be able to do even a little bit for the dear Lord
who gave all his life for us."
So it was not strange that Annie Brown should sometimes look in upon
the invalid, although she did have the character of being a wild, bold
girl.
Mrs. Chaplin, however, did not like her or her father, who often
spent his money in drink when he earned a little more than usual. And
so Letty was quite right in what she said; and her sister did not
contradict her, but just smiled to herself in the shadow while Letty
carefully dropped a few more cinders on the fire.
Before she had finished, the street door opened, and the next minute
Winny exclaimed joyfully, "There's father at last, open the door quick!"
Letty needed no second bidding; she dropped the shovel she had in her
hand and ran to the door of the room.
"You're late, father," she said by way of greeting, looking at him
keenly to see by his face how much money his pocket was likely to
contain.
The signs were not very favourable. Chaplin was looking sad and
dispirited, and as he dropped into the arm-chair which Letty had drawn
round to the fire, he said, "Only an hour's work—only fi'pence, my
lasses."
Winny felt disappointed. She had made so sure her father would at
least get two hours work and bring home tenpence to-night. She heaved
a little sigh as she thought of the medicine that could not be bought
now, and then conquering her own personal share of the disappointment,
she said, "Get a loaf and a bit of dripping if you can, Letty; father
is hungry I can see. We can make the old tea leaves do once more, and
there is some sugar in the cupboard, I think."
Letty soon put on her hat, and taking up the little pile of halfpence
which her father laid down on the table, she ran downstairs and out of
the house.
Winny watched her father as he sat with his head drooped on his hand,
looking too weary to talk. The girl knew the signs too well to speak to
him just now. By and by, when he had had his tea, he would tell them
about his day's work, and how many men were standing about outside the
dock gates to-day—waiting for a chance to be called in.
Presently Letty came back with a rare treasure in her hand. As she came
up the street from the chandler's shop, the wind brought a newspaper
rustling and fluttering down from the main road at the other end. Letty
picked it up and stood with it in her hand, thinking someone would come
out of the darkness and claim it; but after standing for a minute or
two peering into the gloom, and neither seeing or hearing anyone, she
decided that she might take it home to her father.
"Look here, father, what I have found," she said holding out the paper.
"Ah! That'll be a treat," he said holding out his hand to take it. "Can
we have a light, Winny?" he said rather wistfully, half fearing that
even now, he might be balked of his reading.
Letty set the loaf and dripping down on the table, and went to a shelf
in the corner and brought a lamp to the table.
"Oh, yes, there is some oil in it," said her sister as she held it up
to look at it. "Mother told me last night when she put it out that
there was a nice drop left in it."
Ninny was always the family remembrancer in these small household
economies, for a lamp could not be burned wastefully, and so a careful
record was kept as to how long a lamp had been burning. After a little
discussion, it was decided that it would be best to have tea by
firelight only, and light the lamp for father as soon as he had washed
himself.
This was done down in the little back yard, and when it was over, the
lamp was lighted, and he sat down to the perusal of his paper.
It was a rare treat for him to have a whole newspaper for his own
reading, and he was soon deeply interested in what he read.
When his wife came in from her day's work, he could hardly wait for her
to sit down before he began to talk about the things which had taken
his attention in the paper.
"I say, mother, the House of Lords is having an inquiry into the
sweating system," he said, speaking quite eagerly.
The poor woman was very tired, and did not feel much interest in what
her husband was talking about, but she said with a little show of
interest, "What do you mean, Tom?"
"Mean! Well, you'd know if you worked in the docks, where the foreman
does nothing for his money but hunt us along, yelling, 'Shove up there,
shove up!' And make twenty of us do the work of sixty, of course
getting the other forty men's money for himself besides his own wages."
"Why, how's that managed, father?" asked Winny quickly.
While Mrs. Chaplin forgot her weariness as she said, "Tell us what you
mean, Tom,—what this sweating is."
"Well, look here, this is how we men get served—for we have it at the
docks as bad as anywhere. We'll say a ship comes in to-morrow morning,
a tea ship perhaps. The labour-master goes and looks at her, and says
to the foreman, 'You'll want sixty for that job.'
"'All right,' says Mr. Foreman, and at eight o'clock, he comes to the
dock gates and picks out the strongest-looking chaps he can find among
us-forty or fifty, perhaps. He takes 'em to the ship, and sets them
to work till half-past ten. And then if they are fagged, and he don't
think they'll be able to keep up the pace he wants them to work at,
he pays them off for two hours' work, and then goes to the gates for
another batch—sixty this time, most likely, because at eleven o'clock
the labour-master will be round to see how they are getting on, and to
see that the number of workers are all right.
"The foreman don't do much in the way of hard work himself; he has
enough to do to look after his gang of labourers, for they'd shirk
their work if they could—if they wasn't looked after. Treat a man like
a dog and you'll only get dog's work out of him. The chap that knows
he's just hired for a couple of hours, and will be put off the job
then, ain't going to take the interest in his work that he ought. Mind,
I ain't saying he ought not, for I know well enough that if a man puts
heart into his work, it's a deal better than just brute strength only;
and that's why so many of us grumble at the way things are managed at
the docks. I tell you it's bad for foremen and labourers too, though
the foremen don't mind so much, as they make money by it. See how
Rutter has got on since he's been foreman," added Chaplin with some
bitterness.
"But how is it they can manage it? I don't understand," interrupted
Winny in an eager tone.
"Well, my girl, it's this way. The foreman is paid by contract. The
ship comes in, and they find out how much cargo there is in the hold to
be got out, and the labour-master can tell to an hour or so how long it
will take sixty or twenty men to get it out, and he says this job will
be so much, five or ten pounds as the case may be, and the foreman has
to pay the labourers out of this contract price. Well, if he can make
forty or fifty men do the work of fifty or sixty by keeping them at a
breakneck pace all the time, and working men only for about an hour, or
two hours while they are fresh, he makes so much more for himself, for,
of course, the contract price is calculated as though he had to pay the
sixty men, instead of the twenty he has made do the work. Now do you
understand, my little woman?" added her father.
The words were not much in themselves, but the tone in which they were
spoken made his wife look at him in a little surprise and alarm; for he
was usually a silent man, at least about his work.
"You never told me this before," she said. "How is it you are so hot
about it now?"
"It was hard work to keep from being hot before, but, don't you see,
I might have said something about it and spoiled my chance of a job;
but now everybody is talking the thing over, for we've had some chaps
down at the dock gates, and they've found out that over and above what
I've told you, the merchants and shippers pay eightpence an hour for
our work, but we only get fivepence, and we've borne this sort of thing
long enough."
His wife looked still more alarmed, for there was a ring of
determination in her husband's tone, and she knew by past experience
that the knitted brow and fierce look with which he banged the table
indicated something unusual, and she was half afraid of what he might
do next. But after looking at his wife for a minute, he turned to his
paper again.
"They say here that it is a shame for poor tailors and nailmakers to
be sweated. So if it is a shame for them, isn't it a shame for us?" he
demanded.
"But look here, Tom. I've heard you say that dockers were just the
poorest of all labourers; that you'd never stop at it if you could get
back to your own trade." Mrs. Chaplin spoke in some perplexity, for she
did not understand her husband being so moved about the low wages, for
he had often said that there were so many more labourers than could
find work, that they must expect wages to be low.
"That's true enough, but still I say that we could do with fewer
foremen, or with an over-looker who should share our work and only
have his fair share of the wages. Then, don't you see, I could earn
sixpence where I only get fivepence now, and when the job was over,
and things came to be totted up, I might get a penny or two more that
goes into a man's pocket now who don't do the work. Don't you see this
too, Martha, we should have the men steadier, and taking more pains
with the work, for they would have an interest in it which they can't
have now they are hunted like dogs. I begin to see from reading here
about what has been going on in the House of Lords, that we ought to
have things altered a bit as well as the tailors and chain-makers. The
chap that comes round sometimes to the gates when we are waiting for a
job has been telling us the same thing, but I only laughed at him, and
so did the rest before. I shall tell 'em to-morrow, though, he's worth
listening to; and it might be he could give us a hint how to get things
altered."
"Things seem to get worse and worse," said his wife with a sigh. "I had
a good bit extra washing to-day, and I thought for sure Mrs. Rutter
would give me a penny or two more; but no, she just give me the bare
eighteen pence, and I was afraid to say a word for fear she should tell
me she could get somebody else to do the work for less money."
"That's just how it is with us poor dockers, and so there seems no help
for us at all."
"Don't say that, Daddy," put in Winny quickly. "Who can tell but
somebody may inquire into the docker's wages as well as the tailor's."
"If my head don't ache till that happens, it won't trouble me as it has
done," said her father.
"It's the rent I'm thinking about," said Mrs. Chaplin, taking the two
silver coins out of the corner of the handkerchief where they were tied
and looking at them.
One shilling and sixpence was all they possessed in the world, and this
was Thursday night. As sure as Monday came, the landlord would arrive
at ten o'clock for the rent, and if the three shillings was not ready,
they would be served with a notice to quit; and to be turned from this
room would mean that they must sink a stage lower in the social scale.
They would have to go where rents were less, and their comfort and
respectability would be seriously impaired, and no one knew how much
this was to Mrs. Chaplin.
That she had seen better days gave her a certain standing with her
neighbours that was as precious as a patent of nobility to the wealthy,
and to go to a street where this would count for little or nothing in
the eyes of its rougher inhabitants, was more than the poor woman could
contemplate calmly. She had buoyed herself up with the hope all day
that her husband would make something like two shillings, then they
could lay this aside and yet have sufficient to get what was necessary
for the replenishing of the cupboard.
To her over-anxious mind, it seemed unfeeling that her husband could be
interested in anything he might read in the newspaper, and forget the
rent that must be provided somehow before next Monday.
That there could be any connection between the two, she quite failed to
see in her narrower vision, and thinking over this as she looked at the
shilling and sixpence on the table, she at length burst into tears, to
Letty's great consternation.
"Mother, mother, don't cry!" exclaimed Winny, trying to stretch out her
arms so as to be able to reach her. "Mother dear, you forget that God
knows all about how bad things are just now, and can send us the rent
ready for next Monday, though it is Thursday night and we haven't got
much towards it."
"We haven't anything," sobbed the poor woman. "We shall want all this
money for bread and tea and a bit of dinner to-morrow."
Winny was silent for a minute or two, but at last she said: "Letty
might get some soup at the mission-hall for a penny a pint, and that
would be cheaper than anything else for dinner."
"And I can get my dinner what I want at the food truck outside the dock
gates for a penny," remarked her husband.
Poor Mrs. Chaplin winced. She had been thinking a good deal to-day
of their past comfort and respectability, and to her it seemed like
charity to take advantage of these cheap food depots, and her tears
flowed afresh at the thought. Still, if the shilling was to be put away
for the rent, it was the only thing they could do with the sixpence,
for upon no other plan could they hope to get sufficient for them all
to have two meals within twenty-four hours.
It was some comfort to her to think that there was something dropped
into the rent-box that stood in the corner drawer, and so she wiped
away her tears and began to prepare for going to bed.
This was an elaborate process, for the bed had to be let down out of
what looked like a wardrobe cupboard during the day, but now disclosed
bed-clothes, beds, and pillows, to say nothing of a long curtain that
was rolled together at the top, and when let down formed a partition
between the two beds, the girls' being made up at the other end of the
room.
There was not much room to move about when the two beds were got into
working order for the night, but then nobody wanted to do more than
creep into bed.
When they were ready, Chaplin lifted Winny from her couch to the
opposite side of the room and Letty helped her take off her clothes,
and very soon three out of the four were sound asleep.
But for Winny there was very little rest that night. Her father had
set her thinking in a fashion that was not pleasant. How could it be
that poor men like her father should not be able to put, as he said,
his heart into his work, and do it, as she knew God would have all work
done, intelligently and heartily. This was certainly the way he would
have all men work, and for things to be managed so that men could not
or would not do this, was to degrade them to the level of beasts of
burden, and certainly ought to be altered somehow.
Surely if these men who could earn so much more money than her poor
father only knew how hard things were for them sometimes, they would be
willing to make some change. For such ways of dealing with men as those
which her father had spoken of were harsh and unrighteous, and God
hated all unrighteousness, and had sent his Son to redeem men from it.
Therefore it was only right that those who were committing the wrong
should be told of it for love's sake, and not merely for the sake of
the poor labourers.
It gave her something to think about and something to pray over. And
very earnestly did the girl pray that night, that somehow God would
show men what to do, so that this might be altered for the sake of the
workers, and also for the sake of those who were so anxious that they
might heap up riches and comforts for themselves at all costs.
How her prayer was to be answered Winny did not think, or even try to
conjecture. God would show them that he could find out the way, and
lead all his servants to judge righteously in this matter.
With this thought in her mind, she at last went to sleep, and did not
wake until her father had gone out to look for work as usual.
CHAPTER II.
NEW WORK.
THE bell was ringing for school, and Letty hurrying down the last
mouthful of bread and dripping before starting, when Winny opened her
eyes the next morning.
"Just in time to say good-bye!" exclaimed Letty, running over to kiss
her before starting for school.
"Is it so late as that, mother?" said the invalid, looking round the
room as she raised herself on her elbow.
"Yes, deary; you did not sleep well in the night, I suppose? See what
Annie Brown brought for you a little while ago." And as she spoke, Mrs.
Chaplin held up a slice of toast. "Buttered toast," she explained; "and
I've got a nice drop of tea for you in the pot. You shall have your
breakfast before I dress you."
Buttered toast was a luxury that did not often find its way to the
Chaplin's room, unless brought by a neighbour, and it was an unwritten
law in the house that if one of them did have a little delicacy of
any kind, Winny was to share it. But where every one was so poor and
had such a hard struggle for daily bread, it was not often that such
chances occurred, and Winny wondered as she munched her toast where
Annie could have got it from.
Before the room was made tidy for the day, there came a knock at the
door, and a tall slatternly girl put her head in the next moment.
"Can you sew some sacks for mother and get 'em done to-night?" asked
a gruff voice, but the towsled head was nodded in a pleasant manner
towards Winny, and she said, "I've heard about you though you don't
know me."
"No, I don't think I do," said Mrs. Chaplin. "But I shall be glad to do
the sacks," she added quickly, for this chance of earning a few pence
was most providential.
"I told mother you'd do 'em. I'll bring 'em over directly." And with
another nod towards Winny, the girl shut the door and ran downstairs.
"I wonder who she can be," said Winny. "She seemed to think she knew
me, but I have never seen her before."
"No, I suppose not; but I have seen her going up and down the street
with a pile of sacks on her head, so I suppose they do a lot of that
work and they're pretty busy now."
Winny did all she could towards her own dressing in the thick long
frock that her mother had made for her to wear in the day-time, and
then she was settled on her little couch, where she could see to read
or look out at the children playing in the back yard, while her mother
put the bed away and was in readiness to begin upon the sacks when the
girl brought them.
"You'll be sure to let us have them all done by ten o'clock to-night,"
she said when she dropped her bundle on the floor.
Mrs. Chaplin looked at the pile of coarse sacking, and wondered whether
she could get through so much in the time. She had sewed sacks before,
and knew that it was hard work, and could not be got through very
quickly, and so she said: "What time have these got to go in?"
"Eight o'clock to-morrow morning," replied the girl, with her eyes
still fixed upon Winny.
"Well, I'll promise this: all the sacks I can get done by eight o'clock
to-night my husband shall bring over, and I will sit up and do the rest
so that you shall have them by seven to-morrow. Will that do?" asked
Mrs. Chaplin rather anxiously.
"From you it will," said the girl with a grin. And with another nod to
Winny, she shut the door and ran downstairs.
A needle and string for sewing were sent with the sacks, and so Mrs.
Chaplin sat down at once to her task.
"We shall get the rent now, mother, sha'n't we?" said Winny eagerly.
"I was sure God would help us somehow," she added in a tone of glad
triumph when her mother, after a careful calculation, thought she might
put away another shilling towards it out of the sack sewing.
But she had not been at this long, when there came another tap at the
door. But it was not pushed open until Mrs. Chaplin had called out
"Come in!"
Then a sad, weary-looking girl about Winny's age, but well and
comfortably dressed, timidly opened the door and stood for a minute
looking round the room.
"It's Miss Rutter, Winny," said her mother by way of breaking the
silence and introducing the girls.
"Mother wants you to come and clean up a bit for her," said the visitor
with a wistful look at Winny.
"Dear me, now, isn't that tiresome!" exclaimed Mrs. Chaplin. "I never
had a stroke of work all the week till yesterday, and didn't expect
none to-day, so was glad enough of these sacks. What am I to do? It
would pay me a deal better to come and do a day's work for your mother,
but you see I have promised to get these sacks done."
"Oh, leave them," said the girl lightly. "I'll tell mother about it and
she shall make it up to you."
"But the sacks are promised for to-night or to-morrow morning,"
interposed Winny. "Mother could not break her word about them. Could
you, mother?" she added appealing to her.
Mrs. Chaplin looked dubious. The temptation to send the sacks back now
this other work had come was a strong one, but glancing at Winny's
anxious face, the mother felt half ashamed of the thought that had come
to her, and with a sigh, she said: "Tell your mother I'm very sorry
can't come to-day. If I'd only known it last night or an hour ago I'd
have come, and been glad of it. But, you see, having promised these
sacks, I can't disappoint the person or she may lose the work."
"But mother's so poorly, Mrs. Chaplin. Father's been going on again
about the money we spend, and the rent people owe him, that—that—"
and here the girl burst into tears. "Mother can't clean up the place,
and father whitewashed the parlour last night, so that it's all in a
dreadful mess."
Mrs. Chaplin looked at the girl pityingly. She knew what a hard man her
father was, and that her mother, weak and delicate, was unable to do
the rough work of the household and attend to the lodgers, so she said:
"Couldn't you shut up the parlour for to-day, and I will be round first
thing in the morning—be there as soon as your father has gone to the
docks, and I'll have it all straight and get away before he comes home
at dinner-time?"
"I'll go and ask mother if that will do and come back and let you
know," said the girl, somewhat relieved by this suggestion.
"Does Mr. Rutter work at the docks?" asked Winny in some surprise.
"Yes; he's got a rare good place there," replied her mother with
something like a sigh of envy. "He was made foreman five or six years
ago, and they've a nice home and bought a lot of houses since."
"But it don't seem to have made Miss Rutter very happy," remarked
Winny, recalling what her father had said, and her own thoughts during
the night, upon the matter of dock foremen and how they grew rich.
"Well, I don't know that any of them have been much the happier for
their money now I come to think of it. They used to live next door to
us years ago, and Rutter wasn't a bad sort of man in his way then, but
since he's begun to get on a bit, he seems to think of nothing but
how he can make more money. When he ain't at work in the docks he's
worrying over his books at home, and they say the men under him hate
him, and if they can do him an ill turn, they never lose the chance of
letting him see what they think about him."
"Why, mother, it's better to be poor than to be rich like that," said
Winny quickly. "I'd rather be as we are than have everybody hating
father, and—"
"Well, but Mr. Rutter ain't obliged to be so hard and disagreeable,"
interrupted her mother; "he wasn't always so."
"No; but, don't you see, he's got to love money better than anything
else now. He used to think about neighbours and friends once in a
friendly way, but he's got to think so much of his contracts and how
much money he can make by them that he forgets everything else, and God
won't let the man be happy or comfortable who thinks of nothing else
but making money."
But Mrs. Chaplin shook her head dissentingly. "I don't know so much
about that," she said. "It's a shame that the Rutters don't make
themselves more comfortable, for they've got everything to do it with;
and yet my heart aches sometimes for the poor thing, she seems to have
got so afraid of her husband lately."
"And that poor girl, too—Lizzie isn't it? I had almost forgotten her,
mother; she looks more like an old woman than a girl."
"Yes, she does. But I don't wonder you have forgotten her. The Rutters
always did hold their heads very high, and when they moved into a
bigger house, Mr. Rutter forbid them having anything to do with old
friends. He wanted everybody to forget what he had been, and to set up
for something better than a dock hand."
While she was talking, the needle was driven in and out of the stubborn
sacking, for if the sacks were all to be finished in time, she must sit
closely to her task.
When Letty came in, she went to get two pints of soup at the
mission-hall in the neighbourhood, and by this means, Mrs. Chaplin and
the girls could have a warm nourishing meal without loss of time, for
this was a consideration to-day.
When dinner was over and the table cleared, Letty sat down to sew
at one of the sacks. Winny would have liked to do the same, but it
was impossible for her to attempt such heavy work. But if ever she
was tempted to repine at her helpless condition, it was under such
circumstances as these, when every stitch made some difference in the
task, and yet she could do nothing to help.
"Mother, I could read to you this afternoon," she suddenly said, her
face brightening at the thought. "I've got a book here Miss Lavender
brought me last week."
"Haven't you read it?" asked her mother.
"Yes; but I shall enjoy reading it again to you, mother."
"Oh! I couldn't read a book over again that I had just finished," said
Letty. "I should hate doing that."
"Not if you wanted to help mother," said her sister.
Letty shrugged her shoulders. "I like to read to myself best," she
said; "and if you like, I'll take that book to be changed when I come
home from school. Miss Lavender said she would change it for us to-day
if you liked."
"Oh, but I sha'n't be done with it. I couldn't read it all to mother
this afternoon," replied Winny.
"And I shall want you to get the tea, and do a bit more sewing at the
sacks when you come home from school, Letty," said her mother.
"It hurts my fingers. I don't think I can do any more," replied Letty
with a pout.
"It hurts mine too, but I am too glad to get the work to grumble about
it, and you will have to learn to do the same, my girl."
Letty sighed. "Don't you wish we had a lot of money, Winny?" she said.
"If father was a foreman, now."
"No! No! I don't want father to be a foreman," hastily interrupted her
sister. "What we've got to wish and pray for is that things may be
altered, that the men may be able to do their work as father says they
ought—taking an interest in it, so as to do it carefully and well. And
that the foremen may not merely think of making them work as hard as
possible for as little as possible, just as though they were horses and
not men at all. The foremen might not make so much money then, but they
will be happier and better with a little."
"I hope it will be a little more than father has, then," interrupted
Letty with a shrug of the shoulders. For the idea of people not being
happy when they have plenty to eat, warm clothes to wear, and no rent
to worry about, was something too wonderful for her to comprehend.
"Do you think we should be better as we are, mother?" she asked
incredulously.
"But, don't you see, Letty, that if things were altered the way father
was talking about last night, it would be better for us, and we should
be a little better off, and father would be able to do his work better
too. It would be fairer altogether, for now as it is, the foremen
complain of the labourers and they complain of the foremen, and nobody
is satisfied. Of course God could not let people be happy and content
if they got their money unfairly, as it seems to me some do now, and
I am sure He will have it altered somehow, now that men have begun
to think how wrong it is. Nobody thought much about it till lately,
but now He has begun to speak to men's hearts about it, He will soon
teach them how to make things better. Of course if this could be done,
I should be glad enough for father to be made a foreman, for then he
would have regular wages, and then we might have a front room to live
in, and I could look out of the window sometimes."
Mrs. Chaplin sighed. "We would have a front room if father could only
earn a shilling or two more a week," she said looking at the white face
before her, and thinking what a long time it was since she had seen
anything beyond those four walls. Little wonder was it that she longed
for their removal to a front room, where a peep into the street might
be had sometimes to break the monotony of her life.
If Winny had any such longing herself, she carefully put it aside, lest
it should be a source of trouble to her mother. And for that afternoon
at least, they were as happy as though they possessed as good an income
as the Rutters. For Winny read the story-book lent her by her teacher,
and in this second perusal, enjoyed it almost more than the first time,
for she had her mother's sympathy in her pleasure, and the afternoon
passed all too quickly for both of them.
If only the sacks were nearer completion, Mrs. Chaplin would have felt
almost merry, so much had her heart been lightened by the reading and
talk she had had with Winny.
But the exertion had been almost too much for the poor girl; her
strength was not equal to such a long spell of reading, although she
had been almost unaware of her weakness until Letty came in, and it
grew too dark for her to read any longer. Then she fell back on her
pillow, feeling as though she would like to slip out of the body that
was so full of aches and pains, and leave it there like a worn-out
garment for which she had no further use.
But when her father came in, and she saw his sad eyes turned eagerly
towards her corner, she knew that for him it would be very bitter to
miss meeting her smile when he came home from work, and so she put away
the wish as something not to be thought of just now.
By and by, perhaps, when somebody had found out a way of helping
dockers and foremen both, she could better be spared, but not just now.
So, conquering her faintness, she said in a cheerful tone: "See how
busy mother is; we shall have the rent ready now, father."
"Sacks!" remarked Chaplin in a little surprise, looking down at the
heap he had almost stumbled over.
"It's hard work, but I was glad enough to get it this morning," said
his wife, looking up inquiringly at her husband. She was afraid to ask
what he had earned that day, for she could see by the despairing look
in his eyes that he had very little, and to-morrow was Saturday too,
when there would be less chance of getting a job.
So she put aside her own fears and anxieties, and said in a cheerful
tone, "I must get these in by seven o'clock to-morrow, and then go to
Mrs. Rutter's for half a day's work."
The man looked at the work in his wife's hand. "Couldn't I do a bit of
that for you so as to give you a rest?" he said a little wistfully.
"I've been wishing I could help mother," said Winny, smiling at the
thought of her father using a needle, while Letty burst out laughing at
the suggestion.
"Oh! You may laugh," he said, feeling greatly relieved to hear of this
influx of work. "I mean to let you see what I can do after tea. Put it
down, mother, and give us some tea, and then Letty and I will try sack
sewing. Never fear but what we will got them done between us."
During tea, he told of his day's experience, which did not vary much
from that of the day before, except that the hour's work he had got
had prevented him from reaching another place in time to get a longer
spell of work, as he might have done if he had gone there first. This
was another grievance that the men had to complain of, and one that a
little forethought and management might prevent.
"Perhaps these things may all be set right one day, father," said
Winny. "And when they are, mother says we shall have a front room, so
that I can look out into the street sometimes."
"We'll have two rooms," announced Chaplin; "and I'm not so sure but
what we may try to get things put right a bit. The chap that comes
talking to us at the gates of a morning says it could be done easy
enough if we'd only just make up our minds to hold together. Two days
I've been tramping and working for just tenpence!" And as he spoke, he
took the halfpence he had earned out of his pocket, and laid it on the
table as though he was half ashamed of it.
"Father, don't you think that, now God has put it into people's hearts
to think about this, and to say it ought to be altered, it will be
somehow?" asked Winny earnestly.
Chaplin scratched his head. He believed in God, of course; he went to
the mission services sometimes with his wife, but he never thought of
God as being close at hand and directing the affairs of men as Winny
did, and so he looked rather uncomfortably into the fire now he was
asked to give an answer to such a direct question.
"I don't think they consider those things much down at the docks," he
said slowly.
"Perhaps not, but that would not hinder God from working. Don't you
see, somebody might be praying about it, and thoughts might be put into
different people's minds about the same thing; and then, if a great
many people said it must be altered—well, if they don't think about
such things down at the docks, they would still have to do as God was
telling them, because the people would make them."
"Bravo, Winny!" said her father. "That's just it, my lass. So you have
been praying to God about this thing, have you? Well, well, keep on,
and who knows what may come of it? The chap that comes to talk to us
about standing shoulder to shoulder don't say nothing about God putting
the idea into his heart, but that ain't to say that it isn't so, for
God works in more hearts maybe than we think for; but about all of us
thinking alike about this, why, that's just what he says must be done
before we can make any stir in matter."
"Will there have to be a stir?" asked his wife timidly.
"Aye! That there will, my lass, and a mighty stir too before we get all
we want. But, as our Winny says, the first thing is to get the men to
think alike about what they want."
"But there won't be a strike?" said poor Mrs. Chaplin with a shiver.
She knew by bitter experience what a strike meant, what hunger and
cold, what a giving up of treasured household goods, and the desolate
homes that it left behind.
"We won't have no strike if we can help it. What we must do is to make
up our minds to stand shoulder to shoulder, and when the dock companies
see that, why, of course, they will hear our complaints, and make some
alterations."
"But suppose they shouldn't?" said his wife.
Chaplin could see the dread in her face, and hastened to allay her
fears. "We won't strike till we're compelled," he said. "Our Winny
won't forget to tell God all about it; and, look here, mother, if the
worst comes to the worst, why, don't you see that God will know we're
just doing it for bare life, and he'll take care of us?"
"Yes! Yes! Father, that he will," said Winny. "And then we shall be
able to get a front room and live happy ever afterwards."
Such a prospect as a front room, or better still, two rooms to live in,
was worth any struggle, and looking at his Winny as he awkwardly pushed
the needle in and out, Chaplin determined to give his name in the next
day as one who would join in the demand that was to be made for better
terms for the labourers.
CHAPTER III.
THE NEIGHBOURS.
"LOOK here, Maria, we shall have to move out of this place, I can see;
I don't mean to put up with the fellows grumbling any longer. Last
night one of them threatened to break my windows if I didn't give up my
work at the docks, as if it was my fault that the men had to work on
contract. They've been at it for a month now."
Mrs. Rutter sighed. "I wish you had never been made a foreman," she
said in a tone of desperation. "We was ever so much happier when you
was just a workman with about half the wages."
"What do you mean?" demanded her husband fiercely.
"Why, that money don't always bring happiness," replied his wife
evasively, looking half afraid of what she had said.
"What have you got to complain of?" he said. "Don't you have plenty to
eat and drink? Ain't you got the best furnished house in the street?
Ain't we better off than anybody in the neighbourhood? I've just bought
another house, one where there's some good steady tenants, and where
the rents ain't so high but they'll bear raising a bit."
"You never was so anxious to make money when you just had—"
"There, go into the kitchen and cry there," commanded her husband.
"Only don't keep the fire burning in waste."
The poor woman went out sobbing. In spite of the house being the best
furnished in the street, she was constantly being told that to have a
fire these chilly evenings was waste, although it had been the custom
to have one until her husband had begun to grow rich, when he had
declared that such indulgence was a wilful waste.
She sat down by the few embers of the dying fire and shivered.
Presently her husband went out, and she heard angry voices outside.
Doubtless it was some of the tenants come to beg for further time to
pay the rent, for these were constantly coming on such errands.
Just now, however, it, seemed as though they were rather noisy over
it, and stones rattled against the window shutters. To her relief,
the latch key was heard turning in the lock the next minute, and
her husband came in. He was not a coward, but he looked white and
frightened as he came into the kitchen.
"Why! What is the matter?" she asked, looking even paler than her
husband.
"Oh, some of the men out there are about as foolish as you are," he
said uneasily. "They actually want me to try and alter the plan upon
which the work is done in the docks, as if I could do anything in it."
"But I've heard you say it wasn't a fair way of doing things," put in
his wife.
"But suppose it isn't, can I alter it do you think?" he demanded,
turning angrily upon her.
It was always so now. Whatever put him out of temper, he always visited
it upon her, and so now, as he could not go out because of the angry
crowd in the street, he vented his anger upon her, while she sat and
bore it meekly but tearfully, silently wishing they were as poor now as
when her husband worked in the docks, and never dreamed of being the
possessor of more than a pound a week in the way of income. They had
been happy and content then, and her husband could afford time to go
with her to the mission service sometimes.
But all this had altered when he was made a foreman and began to buy
houses of his own. Then the mission service was not good enough for
them, he said, they ought to go to a church where they knew nobody, but
might be thought people of importance—not that he went himself, for
Sunday had to be given up to looking over accounts, and calculations
about rents and repairs, and how a shilling could be put on here and
there to make his houses more profitable.
The poor woman sighed as she thought of it all, while her husband
grumbled on and the crowd outside seemed to grow more violent. It
became plain at last that Rutter would not be able to go out again that
night, and so he took off his boots and sat down in the dreary little
kitchen to eat his supper of bread and cheese.
The crowd outside waited and raged on against the foreman, but finding
at last that he did not mean to come out again that night they at
length dispersed.
"We must get away from here to-morrow," said Rutter when they went
upstairs. "I've bought a house a little way out, and we'll get into
it at once. I shall send to say I am ill and can't go to work in the
morning, and we'll be away before those fellows get back at night."
"But the woman's coming to wash in the morning," said Mrs. Rutter in
some dismay, for she did not like being taken from all her friends.
"If the woman's coming, she can help you pack up. But you need not let
her know where we are going, for these rough fellows are not easy to
manage when they are in a rage, and I don't want them to find out where
I am going."
So when Mrs. Chaplin came the next morning, she heard to her dismay
that her work for the future would be lessened, for it was scarcely
likely that she would be able to get another day's washing in the
neighbourhood.
Another thing, she had known Mrs. Rutter a long time. They used to
be friends when they first came to the neighbourhood. She had felt
inclined to envy her friend's good fortune when the improvement in
their circumstances first took place, but she soon began to see that
somehow riches did not bring happiness or content to the Rutters, and
she often pitied the poor woman more now than when they were both
struggling to make ends meet, as they did sometimes in those old days.
Since then they had been getting steadily poorer and the Rutters
richer, but the more anxious and unhappy as it seemed to Mrs. Chaplin.
She helped with the packing all day and saw the furniture put into the
van, but as Mrs. Rutter was not allowed to know where they were going,
she could not tell her friend, much as she might wish to do so.
When she got home, another piece of news awaited her.
Annie Brown, who insisted upon coming in to see Winny sometimes, burst
into the room just after she got back, exclaiming: "I say Mrs. Chaplin,
Rutter has bought this house and is going to raise all the rents!"
"Nonsense!" replied Mrs. Chaplin. "I should have heard about that, if
it had been true, for I have been working there to-day."
She would not say a word about the moving, for fear Annie should find
out which way they had gone and follow them. She would be quite capable
of doing this, and telling those who had made the disturbance last
night that they might repeat it.
"You'll find out that what I say is true enough; and what we shall do,
I don't know, for father's foot is bad, and there's nobody but me to
earn a penny now."
The girl worked at a match factory near, and though the work was
regular, the wages were small, and only sufficient for her own
maintenance, so that it was impossible for them to make up the rent
until her father was able to go to work again. This matter was
discussed by the Chaplins after she had gone, for they felt very sorry
for her.
"I wish she went to Sunday-school," said Winny, "for I can't help
liking her though she is rough and rude sometimes."
"She never did go to Sunday-school," put in Letty with her mouth full
of bread and treacle, for they were late with the tea again, and she
was very hungry.
"I believe if I could only go again, I could get Annie to go with me.
I was telling her the other day how kind my teacher was in bringing me
books to read and coming to see me nearly every week, and I could see
she wished somebody cared for her like that. But, you see, she lost her
mother when she was a little girl, and her father never troubled about
sending her to Sunday-school, for they used to clean the place up on a
Sunday, and so she has never learned any better, poor girl."
"You'll miss the Rutters, mother," remarked Chaplin rousing himself
after a long silence.
"Yes, that I shall," she replied with a sigh "I've known them so
long—ever since we first came to live here. Why, the children used to
go together to the Sunday-school, before they got on in the world and
took to going so far away to church."
"Did we, mother? I don't remember!" exclaimed Letty in some surprise.
"No, I suppose not, and they don't want it remembered, I daresay. For
it has changed them getting on in the world, and I don't believe Mrs.
Rutter cared to have me think that she used to live next door to me at
one time, and that I've helped her to the price of a loaf to get tea
before Rutter came home. Ah! They were happier days for both of us, I
believe, in spite of the houses they own and the good wages he makes."
Chaplin did not seem inclined to talk to-night, and so he took no
notice of what was said, but sat with his head in his hand and his
elbow on the table, evidently pondering deeply over some matter that
engaged his attention.
"I don't know that the chaps are quite fair to Rutter," he said after a
long silence, during which Mrs. Chaplin had been putting the tea things
away.
"What do you mean?" asked his wife, looking round from the cupboard in
her surprise.
"Well, about the way he makes his money. The fellows grumble and carry
on, and threaten this and that, but what wants altering is the method
on which we are paid. Labourers and foremen alike."
Mrs. Chaplin frowned. "I wish you'd leave all that sort of thing
alone," she said.
Poor woman! She had such a horror of strikes, and for underpaid
labourers to think of doing anything beyond a little occasional
grumbling filled her with dismay.
But Winny always had a word ready for any little family hitch of the
kind. "Don't you think we might leave the matter in God's hands,
mother?" she said.
"Yes, yes, my dear, that is what I want your father to do," said Mrs.
Chaplin a little impatiently.
"But, you see, mother," began Chaplin.
And then there came a tap at the door, and Annie Brown put her head in
again. "Father's foot seems worse to-night," she said in an anxious
tone. "I wish you would come and look at it, Mrs. Chaplin."
"You'd better go, mother," said Chaplin glancing at his wife. He knew
that she did not care much about the Browns. They were not nice people
to know, certainly, but Annie had taken a great liking for his poor
Winny, and that fact went far to reconcile Chaplin to being neighbourly
and civil to them, and that was why he urged his wife to go and see the
man's injured foot.
Being thus urged, she had no excuse for holding back, and so determined
to make the best of matters. She found her neighbour's room much more
clean and tidy than she expected, considering how Annie had been
brought up. Brown himself was a rough blustering fellow, much given to
swearing in an ordinary way; but he looked as sheepish as a schoolboy
now, for he had a vague notion that the Chaplins were "stuck up" though
they were so poor. But he was ruled by his daughter Annie, much as
Chaplin was by his Winny, and as she said Mrs. Chaplin must see his
foot, he had submitted.
"It's very good of you to come and look at a cove like me," he said
when Mrs. Chaplin wished him "good-evening." And the meek way he spoke
almost made his visitor laugh, and dispelled all her fear of the man.
"You hurt your foot in the docks, I suppose?" she said, not knowing
what else she ought to say.
It was perhaps about the worst question she could have put, for he
broke into a torrent of oaths, blaming the foreman for being in such a
hurry and so causing the accident. It was not Rutter, but another man
something like him, and Brown was very bitter about the whole matter.
"Hush, father, hush!" interposed Annie. "I told you to mind how you
behaved, didn't I? Don't mind him, Mrs. Chaplin, his bark is a deal
worse than his bite," she added turning to her visitor.
Mrs. Chaplin half wished she had not come, but Annie was so anxious for
her to see the injured foot, that she could not go back without looking
at it.
"Dear me! What have you been doing to it?" she said when the rag was
removed and she saw the inflamed state it was in.
"Ointment," said Annie laconically.
"I don't think it can suit it, then," said Mrs. Chaplin. "Go down and
tell Letty to give you all the warm water there is in the kettle. It
must be well washed and bathed before we can do anything else to it.
What a pity you did not go to the hospital and have it dressed," said
Mrs. Chaplin when Annie had gone down for the water. "It would have
been almost well by this time if you had done that."
"And what was to become of the little un while I was there?" he
demanded almost angrily.
"The little one!" repeated Mrs. Chaplin in some amazement.
"Aye, my Annie I mean. What would become of her if I wasn't here to
take care of her?"
Annie had used the same words in reference to her father when she had
been asked to go to Sunday-school on Sunday afternoons.
"Who would take care of daddy if I went away and left him by himself?"
she had asked when Winny had suggested that there was a class for big
girls at the mission Sunday-school.
Mrs. Chaplin smiled at the idea of the rough noisy Annie not being able
to take care of herself, but as it seemed to be the rooted idea that
neither could do without the other, she did not try to disturb it.
When the hot water was brought she carefully washed the foot, Annie
looking on.
"I'll know what to do next time," she said, when the foot being
thoroughly cleansed, Mrs. Chaplin bound up the wounds in clean wet
rags, telling Annie to take care that they were kept wet, and then in a
day or two, he would be able to put his shoe on again.
"How much longer am I to be kept in here?" demanded Brown impatiently.
For answer, his daughter gave him a playful box on the ears.
"Take that," she said. "Have you forgotten what I told you about little
Winny downstairs, the prettiest girl in the street, and she ain't been
out of that back room for nearly a year now; has she, Mrs. Chaplin?"
"It's a year come June since my Winny went outside the door," said her
mother with a touch of pride and tenderness in her tone. "But she hopes
to go out again and see the green fields and the country this summer.
Miss Lavender, her teacher, has promised to get her a ticket for some
home, that she may go for a fortnight."
"Oh! I say, that will be fine for her, wont it?" exclaimed the match
girl. "I went to Greenwich Park one Easter Monday, and the trees and
the grass was fine, I tell you. Yes, Winny will like that."
As Mrs. Chaplin left the room, Annie followed her, and went a little
way across the landing. "I want to ask you just one other thing.
They've brought you a lot more sacks to sew, or they will bring 'em
presently, and I want you to let my daddy come in when Winny reads to
you while you're sewing 'em."
"How do you know I shall have sacks to sew to-morrow?" Mrs. Chaplin
asked in some surprise.
She had wondered how it was she had got so much of this work lately,
and that Annie knew she was likely to get more, was still more
surprising.
"Perhaps I dreamt it," laughed the girl; "but if my dream comes true,
and you have some sacks to sew to-morrow, you'll let daddy come and
listen to Winny reading, won't you?"
"Yes, he may come," said Mrs. Chaplin a little dubiously, for it was
against all her rules of life to be on friendly terms with people like
the Browns, and she wondered what was to come of such an innovation.
Soon after she got back to her own room, a bundle of sacks was brought
for her to make, and she felt sure then that Annie Brown had some hand
in getting this work for her, for the girl said as she put the bundle
down, "Annie told mother she was pretty sure you could do them, and
that we might take your word that you would if you promised."
"Well, I shall be very glad of the work, as it happens, for some people
have moved away to-day that I used to wash for, and so I am thankful
for anything that comes in my way."
"All right! You shall have all we can spare," said the girl as she shut
the door.
Sack-making was hard work, and ill paid too, as most women's work is,
but still Mrs. Chaplin was very glad of it, more especially as it was
work she could do at home, and so be able to keep Winny company, for it
was very dull for her when her mother had to go out to work, for then
she was left alone for the greater part of the day.
Once a week, her Sunday-school teacher came to spend an hour with her,
and she generally contrived that it should be when Winny was likely to
be alone. But even with this break, if the girl felt unusually ill, as
she often did on these days, the time passed very slowly, although she
always contrived to meet every one who came in with a cheerful smile of
welcome.
Miss Lavender, who knew the girl most intimately, was anxious that she
should go into the hospital, but mother and father and Winny herself
opposed the plan, and the doctor who came to see her sometimes did not
recommend it very strongly. The little home was a happy one in spite of
its poverty, and he doubted whether more could be done for her in one
of the great London hospitals than was being done here. If she could go
away with her mother and father to some country cottage home, it would
be a different thing; then she might have a chance of getting over her
weakness. But as this seemed quite out of the question, Miss Lavender
had set her heart upon trying the next best thing—sending her to a
country cottage home for a fortnight.
Not that either she or her teacher would ever admit that she was hardly
used in being shut out of so many of the pleasures of life.
"God is fair and just to all," the lady would say when some of her
class, who had known Winny when she was able to run about, bemoaned
her fate as being a very cruel one. "It may seem cruel to us, I
admit," said the lady, "but you know things are not always what they
seem. If God has taken Winny from the enjoyment of some things we
think it impossible to live without, you must remember we are not
called to do without them. We know what these are to us; but we cannot
know the secret pleasures God gives to Winny, nor the opportunities
of usefulness that comes in her way. I happen to know that, by her
patience and her firm belief in what I have just said to you, Winny is
exercising an influence on her friends and neighbours that makes her
life one of the most useful as well as the most happy, for she is quite
sure that she is doing God's will as she lies there on her couch, and
what higher life can anyone desire? Our Winny is one of the happiest
girls I know," concluded the lady.
"She always seems happy," said one.
"Oh! It isn't seeming; her happiness is real and true and deep in spite
of the pain she often suffers, and that she never goes outside that one
room. I want you to believe this, and so does she."
It is not easy, perhaps, for girls who had all the vivacity of girlhood
in them to believe that one, wholly shut out from the pleasures they
could enjoy, could yet be happy. But Miss Lavender, while telling
them that they ought to show every kindness in their power to their
afflicted schoolfellow, said they might yet believe that in her case
at least, there were such compensations—that she could yet be happy,
though she knew nothing now of the fun and frolic that interested them.
"These things are good for you, dear," she said to a little girl who
spoke of giving up play; "that would not be natural, and therefore
not good for you. If God was to lay you aside for quiet work for him,
he would give you pleasures you knew nothing of now; but not if you
willfully set aside the natural order of things, and refuse what he
sees to be good for you."
"Was it good for Winny, then, to be ill?" asked one.
"Yes, dear, it must have been. He had some work for Winny to do that
nobody could do so well, and this being so, he gives her pleasures
that we know nothing of. It is always so, if people would only believe
it and in God's fairness to all his children. But instead of this, we
worry and fume, and think if we were only in other circumstances, we
should be happier and more useful."
By such talks as these, Winny became the best known girl in the class,
although she had not left the little back room for more than a year.
CHAPTER IV.
WHAT PASSION DID.
BROWN came to the Chaplin's room the next day in obedience to his
daughter's commands, but looking as sheepish as a schoolboy as he came
in.
Winny, however, only thought of amusing and interesting her strange
guest, and the book she had to read was just the one she thought would
be likely to please him. And so with a pleasant nod, she said: "I am
glad you have come, Mr. Brown, for I have got a book of travels this
week, and you will be sure to like that."
Mrs. Chaplin asked after his foot, and heard that Annie had faithfully
carried out her directions and that it was much easier to-day.
The big burly fellow looked in a half shy fashion at the frail little
invalid as he took his seat in the arm-chair. But there was no more
talking for the next hour, for Winny began reading, and Brown sat and
listened in open-eyed wonder at the marvels told of in the book. Never
had an afternoon passed so quickly, and when Letty pushed the door open
and put her head inside, no one could believe that school was really
over, but thought she must have come home before the proper time.
Brown went to his own room then, thanking Winny so gratefully for her
reading, that she invited him to come again the next day if he liked.
Annie came in soon after tea to thank her as well; she had her hat on
and was just going out. "What a worry rent is!" she whispered as she
passed Mrs. Chaplin.
They did not ask where she was going, and thought no more of the matter
at that time, and a fortnight passed without anything occurring out of
the usual way.
Mrs. Chaplin got more sack-making, and Brown came occasionally to
listen to Winny reading. For although his foot was better, he was
not able to go to work, and the neighbours knew that Annie had been
compelled to carry a good many things to the pawnshop to get bread, and
that the rent had not been paid, for they heard Rutter's agent threaten
at last to turn them out, if the rent was not taken to him in the
course of the evening.
Brown told Annie of this when she came home from work, suggesting that
they had better look out for another place at once.
"What! When we are so comfortable here, and you can go and hear Winny
read! No, I'll go and tell Rutter that you'll be at work again next
week, and if he'll wait for the rent, we'll pay him all up in a month."
She swallowed her tea as fast as she could, and as they could not
afford to burn a lamp now, she told her father to go and see the
Chaplins if it got dark before she came back.
"For I may have to wait for him, you know, but I will see him this
time."
She had found out where the Rutters had gone to live, and was not
long walking the two miles that lay between, so that she got to her
destination early in the evening, and was shown into the little back
parlour where Rutter sat smoking.
"What do you want?" he said taking the pipe from his mouth as Annie
went in.
He did not recognize her, and thought she might have come about a house
of his that was empty.
"I've come about the rent, Mr. Rutter," said Annie speaking very
mildly. "If you will wait—"
"Wait!" roared Rutter. "Who told you to come to me and ask such a thing
as that? What do you suppose I can do? If you can't pay, you must go."
"But we can pay, and we will pay," said Annie, not the least daunted by
his loud talking. "I've only come to ask you to give us a little time.
Father has hurt his foot, and I can't earn—"
"That's none of my business what you can earn or what you can't. Pay
your rent and pay it at once, or out you go to-morrow morning."
Most girls in Annie's place would have burst into tears and again
pleaded with the hard landlord for longer time, but something in
Rutter's manner roused the girl's anger to such a pitch, that taking
up the glass of beer that stood close by she dashed it in his face and
then threw the glass at the chimney ornaments, sweeping them from the
mantel-piece with a crash, and bringing Mrs. Rutter into the room to
see what had happened.
By that time, her husband had seized Annie, and as his wife came in,
he ordered her to go and fetch a policeman at once. This roused the
girl to greater fury, and she screamed and fought to escape from his
detaining hold. But she was in the grasp of a man not likely to release
her, and in a few minutes, she was handed over to a policeman, charged
with committing an unprovoked assault upon Rutter.
Her behaviour after she was handed over to the policeman was not likely
to improve the impression already taken up against her, for her passion
was by no means exhausted, and she fought at the man in her ungoverned
rage much as a wild cat might have done.
She was eventually taken to the police station and locked up for
the night, while her father waited hour after hour thinking she
would surely return, and supposing she had met with some of her
fellow-workers and had gone for a walk with them, for the evenings were
fine and pleasant now, and it was a relief to get away from the close
stuffy streets. If he could have walked, he would have gone to make
some inquiries about her, but as it was, he had to content himself with
hobbling down to the Chaplins to tell them how concerned he was about
Annie being out so long.
"She told me she would be back soon," he said as he stood in the
doorway looking at Winny, and then glancing down the stairs in the hope
of seeing Annie.
But no Annie came, and Brown grew more anxious and alarmed, until at
last a policeman came and told them that the girl was locked up on a
charge of assault.
Brown was almost beside himself with anger when he heard it. He swore
he would be the death of Rutter for locking up his girl, his Annie, who
was the best girl in London, and would not hurt a fly unless she was
angry.
"That's it, Brown," said his neighbour Chaplin, who had undertaken to
bring him to reason over the matter, "she must have lost her temper, as
you say, and that always makes matters worse."
Fortunately for Brown, the policeman who came to bring him the bad news
was a reasonable man, and his new friends the Chaplins were quite ready
to say a good word for the girl, so that he was at length persuaded to
go to bed without going to Rutter's or fighting the policeman. This in
itself was a new experience; for Brown to control himself under such
provocation was something he had never dreamed of doing before, and it
was not easy to get him to do it now.
It was for the "little un who was ill," he declared, that he did not
knock the policeman down when he came to tell him of it. But Annie
would not have her frightened, he knew, and so for her sake, he was
quiet, and promised not to go out until he went to the police court to
hear the charge.
To keep him under due control, Chaplin agreed to lose his chance of
getting a job in the morning and go with him, and it was well he did.
For in spite of his lameness, he would certainly have struck at the man
who by his evidence had got his girl committed to prison for a month.
Chaplin had spoken to him before they went in to the magistrate, asking
him to do what he could for her, but instead of saying a word to get
a mitigation of the sentence, he did all he could to prejudice the
magistrate's mind against her, saying he would make an example of her
that it might be a warning to others.
So poor Annie was sent to prison for a month, and Rutter went off to
work at the docks vexed that the sentence was not more severe, and that
he would lose a part of his day's pay over the matter.
"If I could only get to work," muttered Brown between his set teeth.
"He shall pay for it yet. My poor girl sha'n't suffer for nothing."
Annie had contrived to say a word to her father and Chaplin too.
"Ask Winny to read to him sometimes," she said with the tears rolling
down her cheeks, for to be parted from her father was the hardest part
of this going to prison.
Everybody cried shame on Rutter as he left. And Chaplin felt glad that
Brown was still much too lame to go to work, for in his present mood,
he would most likely have got himself into fresh trouble over the
matter.
They went home together, and Brown spent the afternoon talking to Winny
and Mrs. Chaplin about his girl, his Annie, whom he still spoke of as
his "little un."
How much cause for thankfulness they would all have by and by that the
afternoon was so spent, they did not know ab the time, but Mrs. Chaplin
was glad when she heard him say that he should not go out again that
night. He shared the tea with his new friends, and so did not leave the
house or go near the docks, as more than one person besides Winny and
her mother could prove.
They had no idea how important this would be then. But the next
morning, a policeman came and arrested Brown on the charge of pushing
Rutter into the dock. He had been heard to threaten his landlord at the
court in the morning, and he was also known to work at the docks, and
so, when Rutter was found drowned in one of the dock basins, suspicion
at once pointed to Brown as the man who had done it, if it was not the
result of accident.
The news of Rutter's death soon spread through the neighbourhood, and
though Brown was looked upon as a rough sort of man, who would not be
particular what he did in the way of giving a blow, still, in this
case, it was clearly impossible that he could have pushed the man in,
and they readily went with Mrs. Chaplin to give their evidence on
Brown's behalf.
On hearing how he had spent the day, and that he could not possibly
have been near the spot where the accident happened, Brown was
discharged, and the police turned their attention in another direction.
But although they could hear that Rutter had been cordially hated by
those who worked under him, it was plain they could not all have had
a hand in his death, and so at last it was concluded that he must
have slipped in as he was hurrying to his work, having gone by the
water-side in order to save a little time as he was already late.
This was the most reasonable conclusion that could be arrived at under
the circumstances. But it would have been very different if Brown had
not gone back with his neighbour Chaplin, for he had been heard by so
many people to threaten to do for Rutter the first chance he had, and
he would certainly have followed him to his work if he could.
The neighbourhood was all astir about Brown's arrest.
But no one seemed to think of poor Mrs. Rutter left alone in her grief,
until Mrs. Chaplin got back from the court with Brown, when Winny met
her with the question, "Have you been to see how poor Mrs. Rutter is?"
The popular indignation was so strong against the harsh landlord, that
as yet no one seemed to think of the widow and lonely girl until Winny
asked the question.
"I wonder whether she would like me to go and see her?" said Mrs.
Chaplin, pausing in the act of taking off her bonnet. "She may not have
made friends with her new neighbours, for she wasn't one to do that
sort of thing, and she ain't got no relations near her, I know."
"I have thought of poor Miss Rutter over since that day she came to
fetch you; she looked so frightened and unhappy. Do go and see them,
mother; I'm sure they'll be glad," urged Winny.
"Very well, my dear, I'll go, then; and if I'm not back soon, tell
father to go on sewing at the sacks for me, and Letty too might do a
bit when she comes in from school."
She gave Winny a slice of bread and dripping for her dinner, and then
set off to Mrs. Rutter's, a little doubtful as to whether she might be
welcomed, or whether her visit might be looked upon as an intrusion.
But as soon as the door was opened, she knew that she was wanted.
"I am so glad you've come, Mrs. Chaplin!" exclaimed Lizzie. "Poor
mother does nothing but cry, and the people about here are proud, and
don't know us, and we don't know what to do."
Without another word, Mrs. Chaplin took off her bonnet and shawl as
though she had come to a day's washing, and followed Lizzie into the
kitchen, where the widow sat rocking herself backwards and forwards in
her grief.
At the sight of her old neighbour, she got up and threw herself into
her arms sobbing out, "I wish I'd never come here; I have had nothing
but trouble ever since I left the old house. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What
shall I do?"
Mrs. Chaplin soothed her as well as she could. But she soon saw she
was not fit to be left alone, and a neighbour who came in to see how
things were going on, begged her not to go away again until some of her
relatives came to be with her.
But the poor woman only had one sister, and she did not know where she
was living, for Rutter had forbidden her visits the last year or two;
for she was poor, and he did not feel disposed to keep her, he said.
Whether he had brothers and sisters or not, his wife did not know,
certainly there was no one she could appeal to in her time of trouble,
and Mrs. Chaplin found herself to be the only support and friend the
widow could look to just now.
Neither mother nor daughter were strong or capable women, and so the
visitor found plenty to do, for the house had a forlorn, neglected look
about it that troubled Mrs. Chaplin until she could set to work to make
things comfortable.
Finding that Lizzie was rather worse than her mother in the matter of
fretting, Mrs. Chaplin said during the afternoon: "If I stay here,
Lizzie must go and tell them at home that I shall not be home to-night.
Winny will get anxious, and I am not sure that there is enough for
their tea."
"Oh, mother, shall I take that cold meat to her?" said Lizzie, and as
she spoke, the thought that no one would scold because it was given
away came to her as a relief. But the next moment, she was angry with
herself for thinking thus, for it seemed like rejoicing at her father's
death, and the poor girl could not endure this.
But she took the cold meat in a basket and some bread, as well as a
message to Brown from her mother, telling him she was very sorry for
Annie, and when she came home again, she would help her if she could.
Winny was alone when Lizzie's knock came, and to her eager "Come in,"
the basket was pushed forward first, and then Lizzie's white wistful
face peered round the room.
"I am all alone," said Winny in answer to the look. "Is mother going to
stay all the evening with you?" she asked, for she guessed the girl's
errand.
"She's going to stay all night with mother," said Lizzie in her cowed
frightened voice. "I hope you won't mind," she added, seeing Winny
looked disappointed.
"No, we won't mind for once; I thought you might be glad to see her, as
you had not been long in your new house. Do you like it?" asked Winny,
trying to make conversation.
"Not much; you see we don't know the people about, and father—" but
there the girl stopped.
Her father's memory was not a blessing, but she was too loyal to say
one word that would betray all it had become to her, and so she turned
to the basket she had brought, and lifted out the remains of the leg of
mutton it contained.
"Mother sent this for your tea," she said, "for we shall never be able
to eat it while it is good," and then she set a loaf upon the table and
a pot of jam and some butter, for her mother had filled the basket,
taking a melancholy pleasure in doing it, even while she sighed to
think that there was no one to scold her now for wasting these things,
as Rutter would have thought it.
Lizzie saw the eager look in Winny's eyes as she set the things on the
table, and she said, "Would you like me to cut you a piece of meat and
bread now? I can if you like."
"Would you mind doing it? I am very hungry, for the dinner mother
left for me, I had to give to Letty, and so I have had nothing since
breakfast time."
Nothing could have been better to set Lizzie at ease, and very soon the
girls were chatting away about the school they used to attend together,
trying to revive old memories of that time when they were neighbours
and friends. Rutter had done his utmost to break off all this, and
succeeded to a great extent. But the memory of what his wife and
daughter regarded as their happier days still clung to them. And now
that he was torn from them, it was to these old friends they turned for
comfort and cheer.
Almost before they knew it, the girls were mingling their tears for the
man who had been the best hated in the neighbourhood. Winny because of
this held Lizzie close in her arms, while the girl sobbed and cried,
for to her the saddest thing was this, that she had never had a kind
father, and the manner of his death made it all the more painful.
All she could whisper by way of comfort was: "God knows all about it,
dear." And there she stopped, and they mingled their tears and kissed
each other, promising that they would be friends for the future.
Lizzie was comforted by the sympathy that could understand such grief
as hers, for though no further word was said about the cause of her
trouble, she felt that Winny's heart was full of pity for her.
Lizzie stayed until Letty came home and then cut some meat and bread
for her tea. But Winny could not rest content with such luxuries being
kept to themselves, and so when Letty had finished her tea she said: "I
should like you to take Mr. Brown a piece of that meat, Letty. You will
not mind his having it, will you?" she asked, turning to her new friend.
"Of course not. Would you like me to cut it for him?" she asked.
She would have done anything that Winny suggested, for she already
loved the girl "who was at leisure from herself" to take up the cares
or pleasures of her friends and neighbours, and in them forget her own
pain and weakness.
Lizzie was in no hurry to go home. The evenings were light, and so when
the tea things were washed up, she sat down to talk to Winny again, for
in this home she could feel she was wrapped round in the atmosphere
of homeliness, and this had long since departed from her own more
comfortably furnished abode. They had front rooms and back rooms each
crowded with more furniture than was needed, for it had been one of her
father's whims to buy furniture when he saw it to be sold cheap whether
it was needed or not; but Lizzie had learned by sad experience that a
well filled cupboard and a handsomely furnished house does not make a
home, and that here in this one room, where there was seldom a full
meal for all, they had greater wealth than money could buy.
She went home pondering over these things, and resolving to ask her
mother to move back to the old house where they would be among friends,
and where they might be able to help them sometimes.
CHAPTER V.
WINNY'S SACRIFICE.
RUTTER'S sudden death was pretty freely discussed among the neighbours,
and very little pity was expressed for his untimely fate by anybody but
Winny Chaplin, and she drew nearer to Lizzie, to shield her as it were
from the hard criticism of the neighbourhood. They moved back to their
old house as soon after the funeral as they could, and the week after
this, Annie came home from prison.
Her coming, so eagerly looked forward to by her father, was a pain
to everybody who knew her. Winny had planned with Brown how the
home-coming should be managed. He was to meet her at the prison gates
and bring her straight home to Winny first, for the stigma of having
been in prison would be sure to cling to her and make some of her old
friends avoid her for a time. So Winny was determined to help the girl
if she could. But no one was prepared for the fierce, proud bearing of
the girl, who felt herself wronged and yet degraded by being sent to
prison. She would not see anyone, she declared, she would not come near
the place to be stared at, she would even have left her father if she
could, and it was not until dusk that he could coax her back to her
home with him.
Winny had been on the watch for her all day, for she had a piece of
news to impart to Annie, something they had talked of together very
often. Her teacher, Miss Lavender, had at last been able to get a
ticket for her to go away into the country for a fortnight, and she
wanted to tell Annie about it. They could talk about this and forget
all about the dreadful prison, she thought. For Annie had not certainly
deserved such a severe sentence, she was sure, and the sooner it was
all forgotten, like a bad dream, the better for everybody.
But Annie did not come home until it was so late that Winny began to
fear she would not come at all, and that something must have happened
to her or her father. She was determined to see her, however, and so
she had the door set wide open that she might not be able to pass the
landing without being seen.
[Illustration: THE GIRL LOOKED ALMOST SAVAGE IN HER WILDNESS.]
At last weary, dragging footsteps were heard ascending the stairs, and
then Winny called out: "Come in and see me, Annie, I have been looking
out for you all day."
"Yes, to be sure, you must go and see Winny," said Brown in a coaxing
tone. And then the footsteps paused, and a wild white face peeped into
the room to see if there was anybody else to be seen.
But Mrs. Chaplin and Letty had gone to a meeting at the mission room,
and as Chaplin was often out until nine or ten o'clock now, Winny was
all alone.
Finding this was the case, Annie stole in, and Winny, looking at her,
was almost frightened at the change she saw. The girl looked almost
savage in her wildness.
"Oh, Annie, wouldn't you like to go into the country for a bit, just to
see the green fields?" said Winny hardly knowing what she said.
"What's the good of asking me that?" said the girl fiercely. "I'm more
likely to go to prison again, for I hate everybody and everything now."
"No, no, Annie, you must not do that, for see, people have thought
about you, and I have got a ticket for you to go into the country next
week, and you can stay for a fortnight too."
Annie stared. "Do you mean it, Winny Chaplin?" she asked solemnly.
To have a ticket for this country holiday would be to rehabilitate her
in public opinion, to wipe out the disgrace of her imprisonment, and
she clutched Winny's hand and looked into her eyes as if she would read
her very soul.
"Look here, Winny," she said, "if that could be true, I think I could
believe in God, though he does let men like Rutter get rich and people
like you be poor. I could believe he cared for me a little bit, if he'd
let me go away for a bit like that, for I could come back then and go
to my work again."
"You shall believe it, Annie, for you shall go," said Winny in an
earnest tone.
And then Annie dropped her head upon the fragile shoulder and burst
into such a passionate flood of tears that Winny was fairly frightened.
And Brown, who had stood near the door scratching his head in
perplexity, now came forward to comfort his "little un," but hardly
knew what to say, for both girls were sobbing together, Winny dimly
understanding how her companion felt, and grieving for the uncontrolled
passion that could drive a girl into the commission of a crime that
brought such a punishment.
The same ungoverned nature that made her throw the glass of beer at
Rutter, now made her give herself up to such emotion that at last Winny
had to beg her to be still.
And the piteous entreaty in the invalid's voice made itself heard
through all the tumult of the storm that was raging in Annie's mind.
With a mighty effort, she stayed her tears a little, and then fell to
kissing Winny until she was almost calm again. Then she whispered: "God
bless you, God bless you, Winny. I know it's you who have given me this
chance to get back my character. I never thought I should have such a
chance a little while ago."
"You must thank God for it, Annie, and believe he does love you as well
as me," said Winny quickly.
She wanted to get rid of her now, for fear she should ask inconvenient
questions which Winny could not answer truthfully just at present. She
was glad her mother and sister were not at home just now, or they would
certainly have spoiled the whole by asking some question impossible
to answer. As it was, her task would be difficult enough, she knew,
but she was determined to carry out the self-sacrificing plan that had
suggested itself to her mind, let it cost what it might.
Of course the holiday ticket she had promised to Annie was what
had been given to herself, but she did not doubt that the sudden
self-sacrificing plan which had suggested itself to her mind had come
by the inspiration of the Spirit of God, and as such must be obeyed.
Not that she had any desire to rebel in her cooler moments, but she
did not hide from herself the fact, that to give up this long-desired
holiday would be a bitter disappointment to her, and it might be that
her mother would not see that it was a duty at all.
This was the most difficult part of her plan. She must not only stifle
her own heart's longings, but argue against herself. Then there would
be Miss Lavender to convince as well as her mother and father; but she
had more hope of doing this, for the lady's whole life was given up to
the work of helping and comforting her poorer neighbours.
Not a man or woman in the place for miles round but had heard of Miss
Lavender. "Sweet Lavender" some of the rougher boys called her, though
there was not one of them, rough as they were, but would stop into the
road that their friend might walk on the footpath in comfort. Scarcely
a home existed but had to be thankful for some timely help from this
lady.
She and a few of her friends round this poverty-stricken neighbourhood
had provided a place where men, and boys, and girls could spend a quiet
hour, or a merry hour of an evening if their homes were too small or
too miserable, as so many of them were, for them to get a chance of
this under their own roofs. Then when the pinch of poverty had been
extra keen during the winter, she and they had managed to feed men,
women, and children, not only with penny dinners, but free breakfasts
and often festival teas, when, after a good meal, they could, for an
hour or two at least, forget hunger and cold and all the misery of
their lives.
Yes, Winny thought Miss Lavender would be able to understand and
sympathize in her desire to help Annie, for she would know that she was
only reducing to practice what the lady had so often taught her, as
being the Christ-life which all his followers were bound to copy.
She was sure, though, that the lady would feel disappointed, for it
was not easy to get these fortnightly tickets, for there were so many
who needed them, and for each ticket available, there were sure to be
half a dozen deserving claimants. So she resolved to send Letty round
to Miss Lavender when she came in, and ask her to come and see her the
first thing in the morning.
Her mother was going to clean up at Mrs. Rutter's, and so she would
see the lady first while her mother was out, and thus have the matter
settled beyond dispute, and by this means, it would be more easily got
over.
But Winny found the lady more hard to convince than she had expected.
She had not known much more of Winny than of the rest of her class
until she was laid up; but the girl's quiet patience, which touched
the heart of every one who knew her, had made her doubly dear to her
teacher, and one of the first tickets issued she had secured for her
favourite, that she might start for this summer holiday early in the
season. So that her request that Annie Brown, a girl she did not know,
and one who had just come out of prison too, might have this one chance
to go away, did not please her at all at first.
"But, teacher, Jesus came to seek and to save those who were lost,"
said Winny. "This poor Annie looked so lost and hopeless when she came
home last night, that I could not help telling her that she should go
away into the country."
"Did she know it was your ticket she was to have?" asked the lady a
little severely.
Winny opened her eyes at the question. "No, indeed, and she must not
know it either, or she would not go. People don't know Annie; she is
rough, and don't mind much what she says or does when she is angry, but
she would not let me do this if she thought she was taking my chance, I
can tell you."
The lady was a little more reconciled to the plan when she heard this.
"I hope she is worth the sacrifice, Winny," she said, "for I shall not
be able to get another ticket for you."
"Of course not; I am giving up my chance to Annie, and so, of course, I
can't give her the ticket and go away myself."
"That is just it, Winny, and so I think you ought to consider the
matter very carefully before you finally decide."
"I did, teacher. In the night I often lie awake with the pain in my
back, and it's then my best thoughts come. God seems to speak to me
then, and he made it quite clear to me last night, that what I thought
of doing for Annie Brown was just what he would have me do, and so you
see—"
"Yes, yes, dear child, I do see, and I will not say one word more
against your wish," interrupted the lady. "It is not as I would have
had it, but you are bound to follow God's bidding as much as I am, and
if he has said 'Do this,' doubtless he has his reasons, and will make
it plain to us by and by. I will take the ticket I brought for you
yesterday, and if you will send Letty round when she comes home from
school, I will give her one made out in the name of Annie Brown. She
must go next Monday, you know," she added as she rose from her seat to
take her departure.
Letty was sent at twelve o'clock to Miss Lavender's, and the lady sent
not only the holiday ticket, but a dinner ticket for both girls; for
Letty was not so reticent as her sister, and told the lady, in answer
to her questions, that they seldom had but two meals a day, for the
work at the docks seemed to be getting worse and worse.
Letty was too full of delight at the prospect of having an extra meal
and bringing one home for Winny to inquire what the envelope contained,
but she would have been bitterly disappointed if she had known it, for
she had told most of her schoolfellows that her sister Winny was going
away to the country, and she might be able to walk when she came home.
She told Winny just before she went to her dinner that all the girls
were very glad she was going, and some of them were coming to see her,
and wish her good-bye.
"I wish you hadn't said anything about it," said Winny, and her sister
stared at the tone in which the words were spoken, for it was very
rarely that Winny spoke so crossly.
"Why shouldn't I tell them? You was going to tell Annie Brown about
it," retorted Letty.
"Well, don't say any more about it, especially to Annie Brown if she
should happen to come in."
"As if I should talk to a girl who has been to prison," said Letty,
tossing her head and looking very disdainful.
"How dare you talk like that?" exclaimed Winny angrily. "You know
nothing about such things, and it is not fair to Annie—"
"To say she has been to prison?" interrupted Letty. "Why, everybody
knows it, and knows she must be a bad girl, or else she would not be
sent there; all the girls have been talking about it, and of course
they know. They say she used to get into awful passions when she went
to school, and this is what comes of it."
"Then mind you never get into a passion," said Winny, but she spoke so
angrily that she might fairly be accused of committing the fault she
was warning her sister against.
Letty never remembered Winny speaking to her in this way before, and
although she would not own it, either to herself or her sister, she
really felt greatly concerned about it. And before she went to school
in the afternoon, she said in a more gentle tone, "Don't you feel well,
Winny dear?"
"Yes, I think I feel better than I do sometimes," said the invalid;
"perhaps I shall get well without going away," she added, looking at
Letty, and wondering whether she had better tell her what she had done
about this holiday.
This was the worst part of the whole business to Winny, the telling
people she was not going away after all, more especially as she was
anxious that Annie should know nothing about this just now. She would
hear about it by and by, that was inevitable, but if she could only
keep her secret from being talked of for the next few days Annie would
hear nothing about it until she came back.
As soon as Letty had gone to school, Annie ventured downstairs. "You've
had a lot of people to see you this morning," she said as she came in;
"I wanted to come in before, but I could hear people talking every time
I came and listened."
"Oh, Mrs. Price came in, and little Jimmy Rowe, and my teacher, Miss
Lavender. I wish you had come in while she was here, Annie; you could
not help loving her."
"Oh, I've heard about her," said the girl; "but I don't love people as
quick as you do. Of course, we know she got the boys their gymnasium,
and gives the little uns the breakfasts and dinners in the winter, and
I don't wonder that people say she's good; but me and father ain't the
sort of people Miss Lavender likes, and so I can't be expected to like
her."
"But it was she who gave me the ticket for you to go into the country,"
said Winny.
"Did she, now? Well, I wonder at that. Did you tell her about me? Have
you got the ticket?" she asked eagerly.
"Yes, you shall have it. See, your name is written on it, so you see
there can be no mistake," and she took the card from its envelope as
she spoke, and gave it to Annie to read.
There was her name sure enough, and the girl's face changed, and a
softened look came into her eyes as she gazed. It was more to her than
a mere holiday ticket, great as this treat must be to her. It held all
sorts of possibilities for her in the future, and not least the power
of hope that even now began to dawn in her heart.
Hearing her father's footstep on the stairs, she ran to the door and
pulled him in to see her treasure. "I've got it! I've got it!" she said
holding up the card triumphantly. "I must buy some soap to-night and
wash and mend all my clothes ready to go away on Monday."
Brown was scarcely less delighted than Annie herself. He read his
daughter's name written there with as much pride as though it had been
her patent of nobility, and Winny hoped no one would tell either of
them how the card had been obtained.
"Letty shall fetch the soap for you when she comes in," she said, for
she did not want them to go talking about this at the shop just now,
for as Letty had been telling the girls at school that she was going
away, it might cause awkward questions to be asked.
The offer of Letty's help to run errands was very gladly accepted, for
Annie was by no means anxious to meet any of her old friends so soon
after her release from prison.
By the time she came back from the country, her former absence might be
forgotten, or at all events that she was deemed worthy to receive one
of these holiday tickets would go far to redeem her character, and so
she had no wish to see anybody if she could avoid doing so.
By this means, she heard nothing of the talk about Winny Chaplin going
into the country, and few heard that the plan had been given up beyond
Mrs. Chaplin, and, of course, she had to be told.
It was the hardest part of Winny's task to have to tell her mother.
Mrs. Chaplin could not or would not see that there was any need for
such a sacrifice as this. Annie Brown was nothing to them. A rude
rough girl at the best, who had got herself into trouble through her
uncontrolled temper; why should Winny give up her chance of health for
a girl like this? If she had been a gentle, respectable girl, who went
to Sunday-school, and behaved herself in a proper manner, there might
be some reason in Winny giving up to her if she had happened to need
it more than herself, but as it was, the notion was altogether most
foolish.
This was the way Mrs. Chaplin argued, and Letty followed in her
mother's lead, and actually cried over it, she felt so disappointed. It
was just what Winny had expected, and for a time her mother could not
be persuaded to see the matter in any other light.
Fortunately for everybody, Annie was too busy washing and mending her
clothes to come downstairs much, and Brown was either out looking for
work or sitting with Annie, as she was to leave him so soon again, and
so to Winny's relief, the time went and Monday morning came without a
word being said to Annie about her journey to the country.
CHAPTER VI.
ONE WINDY MORNING.
ANNIE went to wander in cool green country lanes or pleasant sunny
meadows, while Winny was left to pant and stifle in the heat of those
June days, sometimes too tired and languid to eat the bread and
dripping, which was all her mother could afford to get for her dinner
five days out of the seven. But she never regretted the sacrifice she
had made.
After the first week in July, the weather changed and was much cooler.
Rain fell nearly every day, and work at the docks seemed to grow
slacker, and the struggle for bare existence more keen among the
workers.
But there was something more than this going on among the men, Mrs.
Chaplin felt sure. She forgot her vexation about Annie Brown having
Winny's holiday ticket in the uneasiness she felt about her husband.
There was a change in Chaplin that his wife and others could not help
noticing.
He gradually became more alert, and carried himself less slouchingly
as he walked. He stood upright and gazed round him as though he had
the right to look up at the sky, and he was not the only one either
that put on a brisker air. Brown began to talk in a louder and more
aggressive tone, and often spoke of what they heard at the dock gates,
with sundry hints and whispers that "people would hear something by and
by."
"It's neither more nor less than a strike that they're thinking of, I
do believe," said poor Mrs. Chaplin with a groan when she was talking
to her friend Mrs. Rutter about these varied signs of some stir being
on foot among the men.
"Strike? Dock labourers strike? Why, I have heard my poor dear husband
say they fought like wild beasts against each other to get the chance
of being taken on for an hour."
"Yes, and I have heard that the foremen don't care to have too many
regular hands, but prefer to have a hundred or two waiting round
the gate that they can pick from whenever they want a fresh batch
of hands." Mrs. Chaplin spoke resentfully, for she did not like the
insinuation about her husband fighting for work like a "wild beast."
"If everything was done fair and square at the docks, some would get a
little more and others a good deal less," she added.
"I don't know anything about that," said Mrs. Rutter a little tartly.
"But you ought to tell Chaplin not to be talked into any foolish scheme
of striking for higher wages, for I can tell you this, they could get
men at them gates to work for twopence an hour if they wanted 'em. I've
heard my poor dear say so many a time."
Mrs. Rutter always spoke of her husband as her "poor dear" now. She had
plucked up a little more spirit and did not look quite so miserable as
she used to do, but still she was far from being a happy woman.
Her husband had left her comfortably provided for so far as money went,
but she was haunted with a fear that her money would all be spent and
she would be left in want if she was not very careful.
Every day saw her grow more miserly, and she was constantly reminding
Lizzie that she had no father to work for her now, and so they ought
not to spend a penny more than they could possibly help for fear they
should come to want by and by.
This mention of something like a strike being likely to take place
among those who were her tenants made Mrs. Rutter very anxious, and the
worst of it was, she could get no definite information about what was
going on.
It is doubtful whether at that time anybody knew definitely what was
likely to be done. Everybody know there was a mighty stir of thought
beneath the surface, but what it portended none could tell.
When the time came for Annie to return, her father had a letter from
her asking if she might stay to pick fruit. She had been offered work
at a fruit-grower's close to where she had been staying, and if her
father would agree to it, she thought she would like to stay till the
end of the season.
Brown brought the letter for Winny to read, for he had heard by this
time to whom he was indebted for the opportunity his daughter had of
retrieving her character, and he could not do enough for the girl who
had thus sacrificed her only means of regaining health and strength
that his "little un" might have another chance in life.
So it was with a sort of tender reverence that he always came in to ask
how Winny was, and he regarded it as her right to see the letter that
had come from Annie and give her opinion upon it.
"Oh! I think it will be first-rate for her," she said when she could
make out what the badly spelled words really meant. "Why, she will be
earning more money in the country than she could here, and I heard
to-day that work was slack at the factory."
"So you think she'd better stay?" said Brown scratching his head as was
usual with him when he was in doubt about anything.
"Don't you think so too?" asked Winny looking up at him with a meaning
smile.
"Well, if we do make up our minds to stand shoulder to shoulder like
men and not act like wild beasts, why, the fewer mouths there are to
fill the better," said Brown with a sigh, for he had been looking
forward to this time, and he could not help feeling disappointed to
find that Annie was not in such a hurry to return as he had expected.
The days had passed more slowly with him than they seemed to have
passed with Annie.
"If there should be a strike, as you and father seem to think may have
to be before things can be altered at the docks, why, Annie could send
you some of her money to help you," said Winny.
"So she could, my lass. But we won't tell her what we think of doing or
else she'll want to come home and look after me, for I'm a rum customer
when I'm put out, and Annie knows it too."
"Ah! But you will surely remember how poor Annie suffered through
getting into a temper. Father says that is the greatest danger of all,
for if the men get wild and riotous if they can't get what they want at
once, then it will all be spoiled. You will tell the men this, won't
you? Father says you are a sort of a leader among the roughest of the
men, and what you do, they will do. I pray to God about it every night,
Mr. Brown, ever since father first told me about it. I have asked God
to help the men somehow, and I feel sure he will if they will help too,
but they must all be steady and sober."
"My lass, I haven't touched a drop since I joined the temperance people
down at the mission room. I don't say I fancied it much at first, but
after I knowed what you'd give up for my 'little un,' why, how could I
go agin anything you asked me to do? If you said, 'Go and get me the
top brick off the chimbley,' why, I should feel bound to have a shy at
it for you."
It was quite a long speech for Brown to make, and Winny laughed aloud
at his offer. There was no time to say more about what was going on
among the men at the dock gates, for her mother came in, and Winny was
eager to tell her the news about Annie.
But Mrs. Chaplin was very cool about the matter; she could not forget
that Winny herself might have had this chance, and Brown saw it.
"There ain't another gal in London as could ha' done such a thing as
Winny has done for my gal," he said fervently. "I don't wonder as you
feels bad about it sometimes; it's nat'ral like, being as you are her
mother," he said excusingly.
"I'm glad to find you see it in that way, Mr. Brown," said Mrs. Chaplin
icily, "and if ever you have the chance of doing her a good turn, you
won't forget it, I hope," she added.
"I won't," said Brown with as much solemnity as though he was taking an
oath.
"Do you know what the men are going to do?" asked Mrs. Chaplin, for she
had made up her mind how he ought to help Winny and all of them, and
meant to tell him so.
"No; I don't think anybody knows," replied Brown twirling his cap and
wishing himself well out of the room.
But Mrs. Chaplin had heard that this man, unlikely as it seemed to her,
was regarded as a sort of leader, and so she determined to get him to
promise her his help. "Now, I want you to help us this way, Mr. Brown.
Just tell the men to give up all foolish notions about being able to
get up a strike. I know what strikes are, and I know this, if these
foolish men strike, we shall all be starved to death in a week."
"Never while Jack Brown has got two arms on his body, and can remember
what this lass here has done for his 'little un.' No, no, I'll never
see you or yours starve while I've got a hand to help you."
"What's all this about?" asked a voice from the doorway, and the next
minute Chaplin walked into the room looking very weary, and laying down
his day's earnings of fivepence. He seldom got hired for more than an
hour now, for by that time his strength was exhausted, he was so weak
from insufficient food.
Brown knew the signs of slow starvation, and saw the money that his
neighbour put down on the table, and recalled the time when Winny had
sent him the cold mutton for tea. Although he, too, had a hard fight
to make ends meet sometimes, still he was better off than most, for
he had only himself to think of, and he had earned four times as much
as Chaplin, just because he had been able to get better food, and was
therefore stronger and able to stand four hours' work.
So laying a shilling on the table he said, "I want you to let me have
my bit of tea with you. I ain't got no kettle boiling, and if you don't
mind me taking it along of you, I could pay that for it."
But Mrs. Chaplin looked dubious, and glanced at her husband for a
moment. Brown was not the sort of person she cared to associate with,
unless she herself was the bestower of the favour. But her pride melted
before the look in her husband's face, and she eagerly took up the
shilling.
"Yes, you shall have tea with us, and I'm much obliged for the help;
I'll go myself and get something for you," she added.
It was one of the hardships of this way of living that no provision in
the way of a cheap nourishing meal could be prepared beforehand, or at
least very rarely, and so now that Mrs. Chaplin had got a shilling to
spend, her first thought was to go to the butcher and get a pound of
steak. This was what most housewives did when they could indulge in the
luxury of a piece of meat.
But Mrs. Chaplin reflected that a pound of steak would swallow up
nearly all her money, and that if she got some bread and dripping for
the tea, she might get a more nourishing and tasty meal for supper. So
instead of the steak to fry, she bought some pieces of meat to stew,
and some oatmeal to boil with it. This with a pennyworth of vegetables
would make a savoury dish that all might enjoy.
It must be confessed that Chaplin looked a little disappointed when he
found that they were not going to have the expected treat. But tea and
dripping toast reconciled him to the change, and Brown was invited to
have hot supper with them as well as tea for his shilling.
While Letty made the toast, her mother put the stew on, for it would
require two or three hours' cooking, and then they sat down to tea.
There was a meeting for the men to attend at the mission-hall, and the
supper was to be ready by the time they came home.
The night had turned out cold and wet, so that Winny enjoyed the
unwonted luxury of a bit of fire, for they rarely lighted one now
except to boil the kettle. Soon after nine, the men came in to their
supper, both eager and excited over the news they had heard since they
had left the mission room. A ship would reach the docks about one
o'clock in the morning, and so the few who were in the secret of a
telegram being sent might hope for a few hours' work at least.
"Things couldn't have happened better, Mrs. Chaplin," said Brown
rubbing his hands as he smelt the savoury stew that was just ready to
turn out. It was a hotch-potch of meat, vegetables and oatmeal, warm
and nourishing, and easy of digestion, and the two men looked as eager
and pleased over the unusual luxury of a hot supper and a chance of
work to follow as though a fortune had been left to them.
"The best day's work I ever did was to come and live near you,
Chaplin," said his companion as Mrs. Chaplin helped them to a plate of
stew.
She took care that they should have the lion's share of the meal. Winny
would have declined having any at all, so eager was she that her father
should have enough to do a few hours' work upon, but her mother assured
her there was enough for her and Letty to have some as well as her
father.
When supper was over, it was agreed that the men should go and lie down
in Brown's room for an hour or two and try to sleep, while Mrs. Chaplin
cleared away and got their own beds ready. Then at half-past twelve,
she was to call them, that they might be at the dock gate in good time.
It was raining fast now, and the wind was almost as cold as in January,
as it blew up from the river. Chaplin went down to look out at the
weather the last thing before he went to lie down, and it rather
pleased him than otherwise, for the wet would drive the chance loafers
indoors, and so there would be the fewer at the dock gates to scramble
for this job.
But there was one fact that the poor fellow had altogether overlooked,
and that was that a man seldom got employed at the same dock two days
running, and he had been at work at this place a few hours before.
Brown remembered it, however, and was afraid his companion would be
rejected, and so as he went along battling against the cutting wind
and rain in the darkness of the early morning, he said, "Look here,
mate, we'll make a bargain for this job. Share and share alike it shall
be, mind, between us for this. If you gets four hours and I gets two,
three it shall be for both of us; and if I gets four and you gets two,
why then it shall be the same. It was your mates, as I may call 'em,
at that mission room as told us of this, and so we'll share and share
alike over it."
"All right, I shall get took on, I fancy; that supper has just set
me up, and I could do a day's work with anybody now," said Chaplin
confidently.
He forgot that although he might feel better, he did not show it
much in his looks yet, and, moreover, had begun to be known as
broken-winded—a man who would break down after a couple of hours'
driving.
When they reached the dock gates, they saw that their secret was
shared by at least two hundred. The foreman had taken care of this,
for he wanted a good number to pick from. There in the cold rain and
the darkness, the usual struggle for an hour's work took place, and
Chaplin was among the number not chosen. Brown got a labour-ticket,
and the eagerness with which these were struggled for, would have made
one think it was for a party of pleasure rather than work of the most
laborious kind that they were being given. The foreman was besieged as
soon as he appeared at the top of the wall with the coveted tickets
in his hand, and men prayed him to give them a chance of earning
fivepence, as though it was the greatest favour that he could bestow
upon them.
The twenty tickets that were given out were soon distributed. With the
practised eye of one well versed in appraising the working capabilities
of the crowd before him, the foreman selected his party. He recognized
Chaplin by the light of the lantern he held, as one who had scarcely
been able to keep up for an hour the previous day, and so a ticket was
handed over his head to a man who had only just come up.
With a sickening feeling of despair, Chaplin turned away as the gates
closed. Brown had been selected, and for a minute, he felt as though he
almost hated him for his "luck."
Although the gates had shut, and there would not be another call for
an hour at least, the crowd showed no intention of moving from their
post. Silent and subdued they ranged themselves against the dock wall
for such shelter as it would afford them from the pelting rain, and
presently the new day broke, cold and misty, and yet it made one or
two of the men raise their heads, and perhaps there was a flutter of
something like hope stealing through their minds as one and another
looked out towards the east, and then towards the dock gates in the
hope that they would be opened again soon now that daylight had come.
Patient and quiet they stood until about three o'clock, and then
another call for hands came, and there was the same fighting and
struggling for the chance of an hour's work.
Some of those who had gone in with the first lot came out now,
thoroughly exhausted with their two hours' labour; but Brown was not
among them. Chaplin did not get taken on, and the foreman told him
plainly there would be no work for him that day. So with a sigh he
turned homewards, wet through now with the drenching rain.
Brown would want a good breakfast when he came out at five o'clock,
and recalling the bargain they had made, he thought the least he could
do was to have something ready for him when he came home. So without
disturbing his wife, he lighted a fire in Brown's room, and by the
time he came back from the docks between five and six, he had got some
coffee ready, as well as some bacon and eggs cooked.
"That's it, mate," said Brown heartily when he came in and saw the
preparations that had been made for his home-coming; "when I get that
into me, and have had an hour or two to rest, I shall be ready for
another shift. Mate, you and I must just go shares for a bit longer,
and—"
"No, no," interrupted Chaplin, "we've had enough of that, or I should
think you had. Here you've been at work four hours, and according to
our bargain, if you mean to hold to it, I shall have half your money
for doing nothing."
"You call it doing nothing to eat your heart out leaning up against the
dock wall. Well, I'd rather do the hardest shift they could put me to
than have to do that," said Brown with his mouth full of bread. Chaplin
was hungry too, after being out in the keen morning air, but he did not
like to eat anything, for his journey had brought no profit, and so he
grudged eating until Brown insisted that he should have some bread and
coffee at least.
When the meal was over, Chaplin trudged out to another and more distant
dock, and Brown laid himself on the bed for an hour's sleep, that he
too might go and look for another job before the day was over.
His good luck this morning had quite heartened him, and he chuckled to
himself over the idea of going partners with the man who was almost
worn-out.
"Do what I may, though, I can never do half as much for them as that
little lass has done for my Annie," was his last thought before he went
to sleep.
CHAPTER VII.
THE STRIKE.
THINGS went on outwardly the same for the next week or two, and then
one morning about the middle of August, news flew from dock to dock
that at one, three hundred labourers had come out refusing to work
unless some other plan was adopted than that at present in vogue. What
the men asked was, that they should have the money they earned by their
labour, and the contract system abolished.
To the men themselves it seemed a very reasonable demand, and one that
would surely soon be granted. It was not all they asked, for they also
wanted sixpence an hour to be paid to them out of the eightpence paid
for their labour by the merchants and shippers.
There was likewise another thing, and that was that when they were
called into the docks, they should be employed at least four hours, and
not be discharged after two hours' labour, which often prevented them
getting a longer job at another place because they were too late.
These were the reforms that were demanded, but the dock officials did
not see their way clear to making any alteration in the system upon
which they had worked so long, and declined to do anything.
But the gentlemen who spoke in this way, found that the men had
begun to think for themselves to some purpose at last. The next day,
the men came out of the other docks, or refused to go in, and the
stevedores—the skilled packers who alone knew how to stow a ship's
cargo properly—followed the labourers, declaring they would not work
until the poor dockers' demands were granted.
"We shall win now, mother, in less than a week," said Chaplin running
home to his wife with the news of this piece of self-denial on the part
of men who were well able to help themselves.
Winny clasped her hands and tears of joy stood in her eyes as she said,
"We shall win, I know we shall, daddy; only we must be patient."
"Yes, we're likely to need plenty of that before this strike comes to
an end," said Mrs. Chaplin with a sob.
She had just taken her best shawl to the pawnshop, and in all her
straits, she had managed to hold to that as the one respectable garment
she had to go to the mission room in on Sunday. But the trim, tidy,
threadbare shawl had to go at last, and the pawnbroker could only give
her a shilling on it, so that when that was gone, they must part with
some of the furniture, and what they could spare it was not easy to
determine. So it was not to be wondered at that the poor woman lost
heart when she heard that the struggle was likely to be prolonged.
She had been to ask if her neighbour had any more sacks to sew, but the
last had been taken in and no more had been given out again.
"It's this strike, I believe," said the sack-maker. "Did you ever hear
of such foolishness as dockers to strike? They'll starve fast enough,
there's no fear of that."
"Ah! That they will," said poor Mrs. Chaplin dolefully; "and my poor
Winny! It will kill her I am afraid," she added with a gasp.
It was of her children she was thinking, and especially of Winny, when
she grumbled so about the strike. For to hear her sometimes, one would
have thought that Chaplin was alone responsible for it.
He certainly had not been slow in taking up the idea when once it had
entered his head. And the leaders, finding he was a steady man and
one whose character could be relied upon, often consulted him, for
it was to such men as he that they looked to keep out all disturbing
influences, and keep the men steady in the time of excitement that was
certain to follow.
Winny did not grumble. She always contrived to meet her father with
a smile whenever he came in. Letty did not fare so badly as those at
home, for very soon after the strike commenced, the friends who always
took care that poor school children should be fed in the winter time,
decided to have the same provision made for them now.
Appeals were made for funds to carry on free breakfasts and dinners too
for the poor dockers' children, and the money came in as it was needed
and was spent as fast as it came.
When a week went past, and all the efforts made by the men and their
leaders failed to gain a settlement of the dispute, some of the rougher
and wilder of the men proposed that, as they could not get what they
wanted by fair means, they should adopt other measures.
Brown from his former character was taken into the confidence of one
or two desperate men who had formed a plan for doing a good deal of
mischief in London while there was so much confusion.
Brown heard all they had to say, and then asked if they knew that
anyone had actually starved through this strike. "If you do, tell me
where he is, and I'll see he gets something," he added.
"Well, if we ain't actually starving, we're often hungry," grumbled the
other in a sullen tone.
"Ah! Hunger and dockers have been close acquaintance for years. But
look you, the money that feeds the young uns every day comes out of
the pockets of people you would ruin. How would that help us, do you
think? No, no, I tell you while we get a meal a day, that will keep us
from starving, we ought to behave ourselves like men and not like wild
beasts."
This from the father of the girl who had thrown a glass at their
landlord, and swept all his treasured ornaments from the mantel-piece,
was something so astonishing that the men could scarcely believe they
had heard aright. Brown had been their leader in many a desperate
venture, so that to hear him talk like this was beyond their power
of belief at first, and when at last they were convinced that he was
in earnest in what he said, they were half disposed to wreak their
vengeance upon him, for they knew that henceforth he would watch them
so as to frustrate any plan of theirs for creating a riot among the
thousands of unemployed hungry workmen.
Each day as it dawned, the anxious hungry families of the men hoped
that before night some settlement would be made and the dispute
terminate. Each day, too, saw the men better organized and more
prepared to act from a feeling of common brotherhood instead of
individual gain. Each day, crowds of men gathered round the dock gates,
and there the leaders would tell them what had been done the day
before, and exhort them to restrain their impatience, no matter what
the provocation might be, to use no violence in word or deed.
Subscriptions came in faster as the days went on, and every heart
among those of their neighbours who were able to help them seemed
touched with a divine spirit of generosity. For pawnbrokers who took
their chairs, blankets, and other portable property, declared they
would charge no interest on the pledges taken during the strike, while
shopkeepers gave credit until shelves and drawers were empty, and tills
too.
Even Mrs. Rutter was moved to show her tenants the greatest kindness
in her power. Mrs. Chaplin went to work for her one day, and not being
able to take the balance of the rent in her hand as she generally did,
burst into tears almost before the street door was closed.
"I don't know whatever is to become of us, Mrs. Rutter," she said with
a gasp. "I haven't been able to bring you any rent this morning, for
the strike ain't over yet, and I don't know when it's likely to be."
"No, I suppose not," replied Mrs. Rutter in a tone rather less
complaining than usual. "I've been wondering how your poor Winny was
getting along."
"Well, ma'am, that girl is more than I can understand. If you'll
believe me, she just upholds her father in all he does about it, and
I can tell you he's one of the busiest of the lot keeping the men
together. I told him only yesterday the dock people were sure to hear
of it, and if they take the others in by and by, they'll have nothing
to do with him, mark my words;" and poor Mrs. Chaplin buried her face
in her apron at the thought of the dismal picture she had conjured up
the strike over, but her husband wholly unable to get a day's work.
"Then Winny takes her father's part, I suppose?" said Mrs. Butter.
"Bless you, ma'am, I believe she spends half her time praying to God
for the dockers. It ain't herself she's thinking of, I know, for the
little bit of food she lives on is something wonderful. Not a word of
complaint have I heard about her back either, although she has not had
a drop of medicine for nearly a month now."
"Well, you need not let the rent worry you, Mrs. Chaplin, for I have
made up my mind that I'll wait for it till the strike is over, and then
I'll take what's owing a shilling a week till it's cleared off."
To hear such news as this seemed almost too good to be true, and the
poor woman with the thought of taking home her day's earnings was
almost overwhelmed with joy.
When she got back at night, Winny had some more good news in store for
her. A letter had come from Annie Brown, who had heard about the strike
away there in the country, and so for the future she was going to send
every penny she could spare out of her wages for fruit-picking to help
her father and Winny. She did not know yet that Winny had given up her
own chance of a country visit for her to go instead. But she did know
that it was Winny's doings that she got the ticket, and so she said
that whatever she could send was to be divided with Winny, and the
letter had brought ten shillings, so that Winny was able to lay five in
her mother's hand when she had read the letter, for Brown had already
changed the postal order, and brought her share of the money home that
she might have the pleasure of giving it to her mother as soon as she
came in.
With five shillings in hand, and Letty sure of one meal a day, Mrs.
Chaplin felt herself quite rich, and reproached herself for complaining
so much.
"I was sure God would take care of us," said Winny with a beaming smile.
When Chaplin came in and heard the news, he declared that they were
safe from starvation now, for the strike must end before this week was
over. "We are going in procession to-morrow to the west end; we must
let the rich see what hunger means, and I am pretty sure more help will
come in. We shall have a good allowance of bread and cheese served out
to us before we start, and so we sha'n't hurt."
"But I can get you some breakfast to-morrow," said his wife.
Such a luxury as breakfast had not been known since the strike began,
and Chaplin decided that if they could afford this, he need not be a
burden on the strike fund even to the extent of the bread and cheese.
It had been decided to have collecting boxes taken round with the
procession of starving dockers, and Chaplin was one of those chosen
for this duty, so that it was well he had had a good meal before he
started, for he had to be on his feet all day, and could not return
home even if he had felt tired until the march was over.
When they got back late in the afternoon, he had a ticket for a
shilling given to him, and each man had the same who could prove he
was out of work through the strike. It was more than some of them
earned even when the dock gates were open. But there was this to be
considered, that wives and daughters who could often earn a little in
ordinary times, were unable to earn a farthing now, for every branch of
industry in this quarter of the town was almost at a stand-still, and
people usually well provided with everyday comforts stood on the verge
of ruin.
It was sad to see the silent deserted streets, for men and women seemed
to have no heart for anything, they were all so hungry.
Subscriptions came pouring in faster than ever as the days went on; but
to give even a shilling a day needed some thousands of pounds should be
sent daily, but happily there was sufficient to keep men and women too
from actual starvation, near as it might come to a good many.
Mrs. Rutter thought more of Winny than she did of anybody else during
this time, for Winny had spoken kindly and pityingly of her husband,
when everybody else had nothing but hard words for all of them. So
Lizzie was sent to see her very often, and always took something in
her little basket for Winny's dinner or tea. Sometimes she carried the
remains of a joint they had had the day before, for Mrs. Rutter seemed
to grow less and less miserly as time went on, and more rent had to be
remitted.
"I do believe it is doing mother good, if it don't anybody else," said
Lizzie one day as she took the remnants of a meat pie from her basket
and set it on the table. "I began to be afraid mother would get to be a
regular old miser, for she was so afraid to touch a penny of the money
in the bank; but now that she is obliged to draw some out every week,
she seems to be more cheerful and happy than she has been since father
died. It is funny; I can't understand it at all," concluded Lizzie with
a little laugh.
"Perhaps it is God making her happy because she is helping the poor
people about the rent," suggested Winny; "I heard mother say it was
a great thing to have the rent settled like this, for so many people
worry more about that than they do about food, that as your mother is
helping them in this way, it was a blessing to so many."
"Yes, and a blessing to herself as well, I am sure; for you know,
Winny, father did make it a little unfairly, I'm afraid. I never
understood about it till the other day, when I heard a man speaking
about it, and I am sure it is not a fair plan the way they work now.
I wish somebody had made a stir about it before. People did hate poor
father, and it was not so much his fault after all. I don't say that
your friend Brown pushed him into the basin, because he was here all
the time, and so he couldn't. But there were lots of others who would,
and I can't be sure that somebody didn't push him in that day."
It was the first time Lizzie had mentioned her father lately, and the
tears stood in her eyes now as she spoke of him. "I shall never be able
to think of my father as you can of yours, for he was always too busy
with his money to have time to be kind to me. If somebody had only
thought of altering things before, he might be alive now. That is what
I am always thinking of, Winny, and why I hope the men will get what
they want."
"Poor Lizzie!" said Winny, tenderly stroking the hand she held in
hers. What could she say to comfort such a grief as this? She pitied
poor Lizzie from the bottom of her heart, and yet no word beyond this:
"God knows all about it, dear," could she say. Nothing to comfort the
sorrowing girl.
She thought of her own father, and what he was to her, and then of
Annie Brown—rough and thoughtless and uncontrolled—Annie who yet loved
her father so dearly, while he could think of nothing but in its
relation to his "little un."
Surely a man like poor Rutter was to be pitied that he had learned to
love money so much that he had no room in his heart for anything else,
and the system that encouraged this was greatly to be blamed for the
result. And therefore if it could be amended, the foremen ought to
be as grateful as the poor dockers in whose behalf the work had been
undertaken.
Something of this she could tell to Lizzie, and the girls sat and
talked until her mother came in to get tea ready.
She had been out in the vain hope of being able to find a little
work for herself, for although they were better off than many of the
neighbours, it was hard work to provide for all their wants even with
the help they got from the strike fund.
That things had so far gone on quietly was a great cause for
thankfulness to all true friends of the men on strike. But as days
passed into weeks, and nearly a month went by, those who had refused to
consent to make any alteration at first began to see that they would
have to give way on some points at least, and so at last they consented
to do away with the contract system; but they would not pay the men
more than fivepence an hour, and the men determined to hold out until
the sixpence was granted.
Some few among them had been taken up for assaulting men who wanted to
go to work in the empty docks, for all who went in while the strike
lasted were looked upon as traitors by the rest. It was for interfering
with these that two or three men got sent to prison; but for the most
part they acted in as orderly and becoming a manner as any company of
men could do, and the example of brotherly kindness and helpfulness
that Chaplin and Brown learned to practise towards each other
beforehand, they and their companions learned to extend to those beyond
their immediate circle, so that each man restrained his own selfish
impulses and greed for revenge for the sake of others, and in memory of
help so freely given to them in their hour of need.
CHAPTER VIII.
CONCLUSION.
THE closing of the dock gates put a stop to every other industry as
well as that of the dock labourers, for all the smaller trades and
occupations were dependent, more or less, upon the shipping of the port
of London, and with that practically closed, these came to an end.
It was a sore trial to those usually so busy to have to sit at home
with folded hands and look at their denuded homes, or wander aimlessly
about the dull streets, for after the procession of men had gone by on
their usual perambulations, there was nothing to break the monotony of
their lives, and it was a hard test of their patience to sit dumb and
idle. And yet, the women felt that if they broke out into loud-voiced
complaints, there was danger that the men might be goaded into some act
of violence, and if once this was done there was no telling what the
end might be.
So every woman did her best to bear uncomplainingly the hardship of
her lot, and when father, brother, or husband came home, to make the
place as bright and cheery as they could. In this way, women like
Mrs. Chaplin and weak girls like Winny, saved London from riot and
bloodshed, and gained for themselves a name of imperishable honour,
setting the whole world an example of patient endurance and the divine
might of doing the duty that lay nearest to them.
Every mission room was busy from morning till night, for meals, free
or a farthing each, for the starving women and children, were going on
all day and half the night too. These cheap meals made the Chaplins
better off than most of their neighbours, and practically independent
of the strike fund, for although Mrs. Chaplin only got one day's work a
fortnight with Mrs. Rutter now, still, with the money sent every week
by Annie Brown to help them through the trouble, they were able to get
along fairly well. And when Mrs. Chaplin got a little to do in helping
Miss Lavender with the meals and entertainments at the mission room,
she was a good deal more content.
The coming of Annie Brown's letter every week came to be looked forward
to as the red-letter day of the seven, for besides the words of
cheerful hope the girl always sent herself, it often contained a kindly
message and a few pence from some of her fellow-workers.
But one day there came a letter with news that set the little household
in a quiver of excitement.
"My master wants a carpenter," she wrote, "a man who can turn his hand
to anything—make boxes, put up shelves, or build a shed. I told him
about Winny's father, and about Winny too, and he says if he would
not mind living in the country, and could do the work, there would be
steady wages for him all the year round."
"Mother, mother, what does it mean?" asked Letty when she heard the
letter read, while Winny lay with clasped hands and shining eyes, too
deeply moved to utter her thoughts to anyone but God, in the swift
uprising of thanksgiving for this fresh proof of his love.
"Letty, we must go and find father!" exclaimed Mrs. Chaplin, as soon as
she could find her tongue. "Mr. Brown, do you know where he is?" she
exclaimed turning to him, for he had brought the letter and still stood
looking from one to the other, for he knew that to get work in the
country had long been his friend's wish for the sake of poor Winny.
He shook his head to Mrs. Chaplin's question, and turning to the
invalid on the couch, he said: "Well, what do you think of it, my dear?"
"Oh, I am so glad!" she replied. "It was kind of Annie to think of
father and send to tell him."
"I wouldn't own her for my 'little un' again if she didn't do all she
could for you, Winny," he replied. "But we shall miss you, my dear; we
shall all miss you. But look here, if you hadn't give my gal the chance
you did, why she couldn't have done this for you, so you see after
all, it's just your own kindness coming back to you again. The seed
you sowed is just bearing the right kind of fruit. That's what it is,
my lass, you may depend upon that. We heard something like it down at
the mission-hall the other day, when Miss Lavender give us that tea.
She stood up afterwards and warned us against losing our patience or
our temper, telling us in good plain words that the seed we sowed would
bring the same kind of fruit to us."
"I wish I could have heard Miss Lavender speak like that," said Winny
with glowing cheeks.
The girl almost worshipped her teacher, and now, as the thought crossed
her mind that if her father got this work in the country, it would
separate her from this dear friend, the tears rose to her eyes tears of
regret this time, not of thankfulness and she wondered how she could
have forgotten for a moment what going to live in the country would
mean to her.
Meanwhile Letty had gone one way and her mother another in search of
Chaplin, to tell him the good news. But they both came back in the
course of a quarter of an hour to see if he had returned, as neither of
them had been able to find him.
Brown had gone upstairs to perform the laborious task of answering
Annie's letter, for she always insisted that he should do this, as she
could not read any writing but his; and he said that Chaplin would come
and see the master at once, and that Winny was very glad.
There was no more to tell according to the way Brown looked at things,
and even this was a difficult task to him, and took him a long time to
perform, so that he knew very little of what was going on downstairs.
Mrs. Chaplin, having failed to find her husband close at hand, put
on her bonnet to go to the mission room, for she thought he might be
doing something for Miss Lavender, as there was always so much going
on. But as she hurried down the street, tying her bonnet strings as she
went along, a neighbour asked: "Are you looking for your husband, Mrs.
Chaplin?"
"Yes. Have you seen him? I want him at once."
"You'll find him down by the dock gates, I think," replied her friend;
"he was there a few minutes ago."
"Thank you," called Mrs. Chaplin, and she hurried along the street
as fast as she could, for fear her husband should be gone before she
should find him.
But as soon as she came within sight of the gates, she saw him talking
to a man on the opposite side of the road. Her business was of too much
importance, she thought, to brook any delay, and so she went up to him
and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Wait a minute, mother," he said, turning to the stranger again and
resuming his talk in an undertone.
She waited a minute, but not more, and then she went to her husband
again. "You must come home at once," she said a little sharply, for she
did not like to be put off for a stranger like this.
Chaplin looked at her anxiously. "Is anybody ill?" he asked.
"No, no, it isn't that; but we've had a letter from Annie Brown, and
she says there is constant work for you in the country if you like to
go and see about it."
This would make him give up his talk with the stranger and go home
with her, she thought. She had not meant to tell him so quickly, but
she wanted to get him away, and thought that this would do it, if
everything else failed.
But to her surprise, he only said in a low tone, "Thank God for his
goodness," and then went to the stranger again and resumed his talk
once more.
Mrs. Chaplin thought he must be mad not to hurry back with her, and
stood there impatiently enough until the stranger went away, and then
she went to her husband again.
"Are you coming?" she asked in a cross tone.
"I can't, mother; didn't they tell you I am on picket duty?"
"Picket nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Chaplin, losing all patience with her
husband now. "Come along home and let us arrange how you are to go down
to the country. You ought to go this afternoon or to-morrow morning
early."
"To-morrow morning will do, I should think," said Chaplin anxiously.
"You see, I can't get away from here until someone comes to take my
place."
"Well, there are plenty to do that, I should think," replied his wife,
who was anxious that her husband should go and secure this good fortune
for himself.
"Yes, yes, there are plenty of men about as you say; but look here,
we want to keep strangers from going to take our work, and to do that
somebody must be at hand to talk to any stranger who would go in, just
to tell them what we are holding out for and persuade them to go home
again. But, don't you see, we have to be very careful how we do this,
for if we got in a passion over it, there might be fighting, and then
we should get into the hands of the police. They know what we are doing
well enough, but so long as we are peaceable, they don't interfere; but
if we gave them any trouble, we should get three months, and that might
be the beginning of a row all round. The committee know the men pretty
well by this time, and as they have appointed me to this duty till four
o'clock this afternoon, here I must stay."
"I'll send Brown down to take your place," said Mrs. Chaplin.
"Brown won't come, and I shouldn't leave if he did," replied the man
with something like a smile parting his thin lips.
"Do you want this work at all, Tom Chaplin?" asked his wife.
She could not see that just lounging about the dock gates, walking up
and down, speaking occasionally to the policeman, taking with a smile
some ugly epithet thrown at them by the dock foreman who might be
passing, was by any means so important as her husband seemed to think,
and she was more angry with him than ever she had been in her life
before.
Tears of vexation stood in her eyes as she turned to go home again, and
as she went by the mission room she thought she would go in and see if
Miss Lavender was there, to tell her what had happened, and how her
husband was neglecting this opportunity of benefiting all of them.
The lady heard the poor woman's story, and could well sympathize with
her impatience at what seemed like her husband's apathy. But having
done so, she said, "He could not have left his post without leave from
those who placed him there. You see it is not every man who could be
trusted to do such duty, for these pickets must be careful, steady
men. No, no, Mrs. Chaplin, he could not leave such a post as that for
anything," added the lady.
"And yet he may lose a good chance of work through it," said the poor
woman with a gasp.
"We must take care he does not do that," said the lady. "I will write a
telegram and give you the money to send it to the country." And as she
spoke, the lady took a pencil from her pocket, and wrote on the leaf of
her pocket-book:
"Chaplin will come to-morrow—cannot leave post of duty."
"There, that will be enough, if the gentleman is a reasonable man," she
said. "Now go and get the address, and send it off." And she gave her
the message and a shilling as she spoke.
Mrs. Chaplin was not long performing her errand, and felt greatly
relieved when it was done.
Chaplin came home soon after four, very tired but full of eager
expectation.
How he was to go into the country decently attired had been thought of
by their friend Miss Lavender. And soon after Chaplin got home, Letty
ran in with a large bundle in her arms.
"It's new clothes for daddy," she announced, setting her burden down on
the table and beginning to untie the handkerchief.
But Mrs. Chaplin soon took it from her, for she was all eagerness to
see whether her husband had a chance of making a decent appearance at
the place he was going to. To see him once more clad like a decent
carpenter was the highest ambition of her life. Her friend knew this,
and felt that the man would stand a much better chance of success in
his new venture, if he could go down in trim, tidy clothes instead of
the poor rags he wore as a dock labourer. So she had managed to get a
decent gray suit about his size, and a clean white shirt, and a pair of
boots, so that nothing was wanting to complete his attire.
To see them all when these were laid out for inspection can better be
imagined than described. Letty danced round the table, bumping her head
against the bedstead in the process, while Winny clapped her hands, and
insisted that her father should dress himself in them at once that they
might have time to admire him in them before he went away the next day.
Then Brown must be fetched to see them, and he must walk with Letty to
the mission room for the loaf of bread that was to be given out at six
o'clock.
Never was a family so elated, for, to crown their joy, instead of
having to tramp to this new place of work as he had made up his mind to
do, one of the men brought him the price of the railway fare from the
strike committee, and a promise to look after his family until he could
send up money to take them down to him, if he was likely to stay.
When her mother went out with Letty to get something for breakfast in
the morning, Winny contrived to have a word or two with her father.
"Do you remember the talk we had a long time ago, daddy?" she said.
"Don't you know, when we talked about it first, I said God would help
us somehow, that he would help people put things right if they were
wrong?"
"Ah! My girl, I do remember something about it; but it seems a long
time ago, as you say, for so much has happened since then."
"Yes, God has been busy in a good many people's hearts. I asked him
that very night about it, and I have prayed to him every night since,
for the old way seemed wrong for everybody. Men like Rutter could not
help getting hard and cross, it seemed. But now that will be done away
at least, and the men may get a penny an hour more, and the four hours'
work a day, for they won't be able to make twenty or thirty men do the
work of sixty."
"I hope that's over, my lass, though it won't make the difference to us
I thought it would, if I get this work at my old trade."
"What would have been the difference, daddy?" asked the girl.
"Why, we might have had a front room as well as this one, and you
might have been able to look out into the street sometimes and see the
children at play when they came home from school. That's what Brown and
I used to talk about, and when he found out that you had given up your
holiday ticket for Annie, he set himself to give up the drink, and be
as steady and sober as he could, so that he might be able to keep the
rest steady too, when the strike came, that nothing might spoil it, and
prevent you from having a front window to look out of."
"How kind of him!" exclaimed Winny smiling through her tears. "But God
is kinder, father, for he is going to let us live in the country, which
is ever so much better than having a front window even."
"Yes, dear, I hope we may be able to live in the country for your sake.
We owe this good fortune to you, my girl, for if Annie Brown had not
gone to work at this jam factory, we should not have heard of this."
"You will take it, father? Though I am sure Mr. Brown will be very
sorry if we go away."
"But more sorry if we stayed, my lass, after having such a chance as
this. Don't you see every one who leaves this overcrowded London for
work in the country gives those who stay a better chance, and so I hope
I shall be able to do this work, though what I am going to do without
tools is rather a puzzle, for of course they will expect me to take
them with me."
"Oh, daddy! We never thought of that," said Winny in a tone of dismay.
"I thought when you had got those nice clothes you had got all you
wanted."
But before they went to bed, this want was supplied. Brown knew a man
who wanted to sell a basket of carpenter's tools, and went to see him
about them. Money was scarce enough just now with everybody, but he had
found a friend who was willing to lend the price of these to be repaid
in small instalments, if somebody would be responsible for the debt,
and this Brown promised to do himself.
So before they were in bed, Brown brought the basket of tools ready
for him to take in the morning. But the pleasure of handling the old
familiar things was too keen for Chaplin to be content with just
looking at them. They were a little rusty in places, and this was
enough for an excuse. He must sit up for an hour to clean them, and
never did a duchess handle her diamonds more tenderly and lovingly,
than Chaplin did the planes and gimlets, screw-drivers and hammers.
They must all be rubbed and cleaned before he could go to bed, and
Winny lay in her little bed watching her father and thanking God for
his great goodness to them.
Early the next morning, Chaplin started on his journey, bearing all
sorts of kind messages to Annie Brown, for everybody was willing to
forget and forgive her offence now.
A day or two afterwards came the eagerly expected letter from the
traveller. Chaplin could write better than Annie or her father, and so
the letter was quite a long one, or seemed so to the little family who
gathered round to hear it read.
First he told them he had begun work, and thought he should get on very
well. His master was satisfied with him, and to get back to his old
trade with regular work and regular wages more than satisfied himself.
He never felt so thankful for anything in his life as to get back to
the country again, and he hoped to get a place ready for them to come
into in the course of a day or two. Annie Brown was looking so well, so
rosy and happy at her work of fruit-picking, that he hardly knew her,
and she quite failed to recognize him in his smart new suit and the
carpenter's basket over his shoulder. It was plain enough that he was
proud of being regarded as a carpenter again, and his wife shared his
feeling, and told her neighbours how well her husband was getting on
down in the country.
No one grudged the Chaplins their good fortune, for among the men he
had proved himself steady and reliable, and was therefore chosen for
the most difficult and delicate work picketing which no man coveted,
but which Chaplin was always ready to do, and never known to forsake a
post when once he had taken it.
Among their more immediate neighbours there was genuine rejoicing, for
now Winny would get the chance of growing strong which she had given up
to Annie Brown. This action of hers had not met with the unqualified
approval of her friends and neighbours. They could not understand the
high standard Winny set before her—even that of the Lord Jesus Christ
himself, who came to give up his life for those who were ignorant and
out of the way, that they might be brought to a knowledge of the love
of the Father, thus leaving all who would call themselves his disciples
an example that they should follow in his steps.
They had thought such a sacrifice as Winny had made was altogether too
much for a girl like Annie Brown. If she had been respectable now, they
could have understood it, but for a girl who had been to prison, and
who felt ashamed to meet her neighbours when she came back, well, it
was altogether too much.
Now, however, everything had turned out so well for everybody, and
Annie had proved to be worthy of the help given to her, why, it was
just what might be expected to happen.
Some said Annie Brown would stop in the country now she liked it so
well, and Letty came and told Brown what had been said.
He did not seem to be at all pleased at the suggestion. "I hope my
'little un' won't leave her old dad," he said. "The country is all very
well for some people, but I was bred and born in London, and I could
never do without its noise and bustle. No, no, my gal must come home to
me when the strike is over; I can't do without her much longer."
The next letter that came from Annie had almost the same words.
"I can't do without you much longer, daddy. I should like to come home
at once, but of course I must wait till the strike is over. The rooms
that the Chaplins are to have are almost ready, and Winny will be
coming here next week I expect, so I shall wait and see her and help
Mrs. Chaplin get things straight, and then I can tell you all how she
is when I come home."
This plan of Annie's was adopted as being the best that could be
devised, and the very Monday that the men went back to work in the
docks again, Mrs. Chaplin, Winny, and Letty set out on their journey to
their country home.
All sorts of little comforts had been provided by Miss Lavender to
lighten the invalid's journey, and give her strength to endure what she
feared would be a very painful experience to the girl.
It certainly did try her very much, and, in spite of all her mother's
care and her teacher's forethought, she fainted two or three times
before she got to her journey's end. But when at last the station was
reached, her troubles were over, for there was her father, looking so
stout and strong, ready to lift her out of the carriage to a little
swing-bed he had contrived for her between some boxes in the wagon his
master had lent him to fetch them home in.
The furniture had been sent on from London the week before, and Annie
had been all day getting things comfortable for the travellers.
Letty fairly screamed with delight when she saw her new home, but Winny
was too tired to do more than look round at the sunny fields and up at
the window which her father told her was to be her own, and then with a
feeble smile at Annie she said: "God is very good to everybody. I shall
have a front window after all."
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEED SHE SOWED. ***
Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.
Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.
START: FULL LICENSE
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when
you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg™ License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
provided that:
• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has
agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
works.
• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
receipt of the work.
• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™
Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.
The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.
Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.
This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
