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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Liza of Lambeth, by W. Somerset Maugham
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+Title: Liza of Lambeth
+
+Author: W. Somerset Maugham
+
+Release Date: August 12, 2005 [EBook #16517]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIZA OF LAMBETH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Mark C. Orton, Sankar Viswanathan and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                           _Liza of Lambeth_
+
+
+
+                           SOMERSET MAUGHAM
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                             PENGUIN BOOKS
+
+
+
+
+                    Published by the Penguin Group
+
+    First published in Great Britain by William Heinemann Ltd 1897
+
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+It was the first Saturday afternoon in August; it had been broiling
+hot all day, with a cloudless sky, and the sun had been beating down
+on the houses, so that the top rooms were like ovens; but now with the
+approach of evening it was cooler, and everyone in Vere Street was out
+of doors.
+
+Vere street, Lambeth, is a short, straight street leading out of the
+Westminster Bridge Road; it has forty houses on one side and forty
+houses on the other, and these eighty houses are very much more like
+one another than ever peas are like peas, or young ladies like young
+ladies. They are newish, three-storied buildings of dingy grey brick
+with slate roofs, and they are perfectly flat, without a bow-window or
+even a projecting cornice or window-sill to break the straightness of
+the line from one end of the street to the other.
+
+This Saturday afternoon the street was full of life; no traffic came
+down Vere Street, and the cemented space between the pavements was
+given up to children. Several games of cricket were being played by
+wildly excited boys, using coats for wickets, an old tennis-ball or a
+bundle of rags tied together for a ball, and, generally, an old
+broomstick for bat. The wicket was so large and the bat so small that
+the man in was always getting bowled, when heated quarrels would
+arise, the batter absolutely refusing to go out and the bowler
+absolutely insisting on going in. The girls were more peaceable; they
+were chiefly employed in skipping, and only abused one another mildly
+when the rope was not properly turned or the skipper did not jump
+sufficiently high. Worst off of all were the very young children, for
+there had been no rain for weeks, and the street was as dry and clean
+as a covered court, and, in the lack of mud to wallow in, they sat
+about the road, disconsolate as poets. The number of babies was
+prodigious; they sprawled about everywhere, on the pavement, round the
+doors, and about their mothers' skirts. The grown-ups were gathered
+round the open doors; there were usually two women squatting on the
+doorstep, and two or three more seated on either side on chairs; they
+were invariably nursing babies, and most of them showed clear signs
+that the present object of the maternal care would be soon ousted by a
+new arrival. Men were less numerous but such as there were leant
+against the walls, smoking, or sat on the sills of the ground-floor
+windows. It was the dead season in Vere Street as much as in
+Belgravia, and really if it had not been for babies just come or just
+about to come, and an opportune murder in a neighbouring doss-house,
+there would have been nothing whatever to talk about. As it was, the
+little groups talked quietly, discussing the atrocity or the merits of
+the local midwives, comparing the circumstances of their various
+confinements.
+
+'You'll be 'avin' your little trouble soon, eh, Polly?' asked one good
+lady of another.
+
+'Oh, I reckon I've got another two months ter go yet,' answered Polly.
+
+'Well,' said a third. 'I wouldn't 'ave thought you'd go so long by the
+look of yer!'
+
+'I 'ope you'll have it easier this time, my dear,' said a very stout
+old person, a woman of great importance.
+
+'She said she wasn't goin' to 'ave no more, when the last one come.'
+This remark came from Polly's husband.
+
+'Ah,' said the stout old lady, who was in the business, and boasted
+vast experience. 'That's wot they all says; but, Lor' bless yer, they
+don't mean it.'
+
+'Well, I've got three, and I'm not goin' to 'ave no more bli'me if I
+will; 'tain't good enough--that's wot I says.'
+
+'You're abaht right there, ole gal,' said Polly, 'My word, 'Arry, if
+you 'ave any more I'll git a divorce, that I will.'
+
+At that moment an organ-grinder turned the corner and came down the
+street.
+
+'Good biz; 'ere's an organ!' cried half a dozen people at once.
+
+The organ-man was an Italian, with a shock of black hair and a
+ferocious moustache. Drawing his organ to a favourable spot, he
+stopped, released his shoulder from the leather straps by which he
+dragged it, and cocking his large soft hat on the side of his head,
+began turning the handle. It was a lively tune, and in less than no
+time a little crowd had gathered round to listen, chiefly the young
+men and the maidens, for the married ladies were never in a fit state
+to dance, and therefore disinclined to trouble themselves to stand
+round the organ. There was a moment's hesitation at opening the ball;
+then one girl said to another:
+
+'Come on, Florrie, you and me ain't shy; we'll begin, and bust it!'
+
+The two girls took hold of one another, one acting gentleman, the
+other lady; three or four more pairs of girls immediately joined them,
+and they began a waltz. They held themselves very upright; and with an
+air of grave dignity which was quite impressive, glided slowly about,
+making their steps with the utmost precision, bearing themselves with
+sufficient decorum for a court ball. After a while the men began to
+itch for a turn, and two of them, taking hold of one another in the
+most approved fashion, waltzed round the circle with the gravity of
+judges.
+
+All at once there was a cry: 'There's Liza!' And several members of
+the group turned and called out: 'Oo, look at Liza!'
+
+The dancers stopped to see the sight, and the organ-grinder, having
+come to the end of his tune, ceased turning the handle and looked to
+see what was the excitement.
+
+'Oo, Liza!' they called out. 'Look at Liza; oo, I sy!'
+
+It was a young girl of about eighteen, with dark eyes, and an enormous
+fringe, puffed-out and curled and frizzed, covering her whole forehead
+from side to side, and coming down to meet her eyebrows. She was
+dressed in brilliant violet, with great lappets of velvet, and she had
+on her head an enormous black hat covered with feathers.
+
+'I sy, ain't she got up dossy?' called out the groups at the doors, as
+she passed.
+
+'Dressed ter death, and kill the fashion; that's wot I calls it.'
+
+Liza saw what a sensation she was creating; she arched her back and
+lifted her head, and walked down the street, swaying her body from
+side to side, and swaggering along as though the whole place belonged
+to her.
+
+''Ave yer bought the street, Bill?' shouted one youth; and then half a
+dozen burst forth at once, as if by inspiration:
+
+'Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!'
+
+It was immediately taken up by a dozen more, and they all yelled it
+out:
+
+'Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road. Yah, ah, knocked 'em in the Old
+Kent Road!'
+
+'Oo, Liza!' they shouted; the whole street joined in, and they gave
+long, shrill, ear-piercing shrieks and strange calls, that rung down
+the street and echoed back again.
+
+'Hextra special!' called out a wag.
+
+'Oh, Liza! Oo! Ooo!' yells and whistles, and then it thundered forth
+again:
+
+'Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!'
+
+Liza put on the air of a conquering hero, and sauntered on, enchanted
+at the uproar. She stuck out her elbows and jerked her head on one
+side, and said to herself as she passed through the bellowing crowd:
+
+'This is jam!'
+
+'Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!'
+
+When she came to the group round the barrel-organ, one of the girls
+cried out to her:
+
+'Is that yer new dress, Liza?'
+
+'Well, it don't look like my old one, do it?' said Liza.
+
+'Where did yer git it?' asked another friend, rather enviously.
+
+'Picked it up in the street, of course,' scornfully answered Liza.
+
+'I believe it's the same one as I saw in the pawnbroker's dahn the
+road,' said one of the men, to tease her.
+
+'Thet's it; but wot was you doin' in there? Pledgin' yer shirt, or was
+it yer trousers?'
+
+'Yah, I wouldn't git a second-'and dress at a pawnbroker's!'
+
+'Garn!' said Liza indignantly. 'I'll swipe yer over the snitch if yer
+talk ter me. I got the mayterials in the West Hend, didn't I? And I
+'ad it mide up by my Court Dressmiker, so you jolly well dry up, old
+jellybelly.'
+
+'Garn!' was the reply.
+
+Liza had been so intent on her new dress and the comment it was
+exciting that she had not noticed the organ.
+
+'Oo, I say, let's 'ave some dancin',' she said as soon as she saw it.
+'Come on, Sally,' she added, to one of the girls, 'you an' me'll dance
+togither. Grind away, old cock!'
+
+The man turned on a new tune, and the organ began to play the
+Intermezzo from the 'Cavalleria'; other couples quickly followed
+Liza's example, and they began to waltz round with the same solemnity
+as before; but Liza outdid them all; if the others were as stately as
+queens, she was as stately as an empress; the gravity and dignity with
+which she waltzed were something appalling, you felt that the minuet
+was a frolic in comparison; it would have been a fitting measure to
+tread round the grave of a _première danseuse_, or at the funeral of a
+professional humorist. And the graces she put on, the languor of the
+eyes, the contemptuous curl of the lips, the exquisite turn of the
+hand, the dainty arching of the foot! You felt there could be no
+questioning her right to the tyranny of Vere Street.
+
+Suddenly she stopped short, and disengaged herself from her companion.
+
+'Oh, I sy,' she said, 'this is too bloomin' slow; it gives me the
+sick.'
+
+That is not precisely what she said, but it is impossible always to
+give the exact unexpurgated words of Liza and the other personages of
+the story, the reader is therefore entreated with his thoughts to
+piece out the necessary imperfections of the dialogue.
+
+'It's too bloomin' slow,' she said again; 'it gives me the sick. Let's
+'ave somethin' a bit more lively than this 'ere waltz. You stand over
+there, Sally, an' we'll show 'em 'ow ter skirt dance.'
+
+They all stopped waltzing.
+
+'Talk of the ballet at the Canterbury and South London. You just wite
+till you see the ballet at Vere Street, Lambeth--we'll knock 'em!'
+
+She went up to the organ-grinder.
+
+'Na then, Italiano,' she said to him, 'you buck up; give us a tune
+that's got some guts in it! See?'
+
+She caught hold of his big hat and squashed it down over his eyes. The
+man grinned from ear to ear, and, touching the little catch at the
+side, began to play a lively tune such as Liza had asked for.
+
+The men had fallen out, but several girls had put themselves in
+position, in couples, standing face to face; and immediately the music
+struck up, they began. They held up their skirts on each side, so as
+to show their feet, and proceeded to go through the difficult steps
+and motions of the dance. Liza was right; they could not have done it
+better in a trained ballet. But the best dancer of them all was Liza;
+she threw her whole soul into it; forgetting the stiff bearing which
+she had thought proper to the waltz, and casting off its elaborate
+graces, she gave herself up entirely to the present pleasure.
+Gradually the other couples stood aside, so that Liza and Sally were
+left alone. They paced it carefully, watching each other's steps, and
+as if by instinct performing corresponding movements, so as to make
+the whole a thing of symmetry.
+
+'I'm abaht done,' said Sally, blowing and puffing. 'I've 'ad enough of
+it.'
+
+'Go on, Liza!' cried out a dozen voices when Sally stopped.
+
+She gave no sign of having heard them other than calmly to continue
+her dance. She glided through the steps, and swayed about, and
+manipulated her skirt, all with the most charming grace imaginable,
+then, the music altering, she changed the style of her dancing, her
+feet moved more quickly, and did not keep so strictly to the ground.
+She was getting excited at the admiration of the onlookers, and her
+dance grew wilder and more daring. She lifted her skirts higher,
+brought in new and more difficult movements into her improvisation,
+kicking up her legs she did the wonderful twist, backwards and
+forwards, of which the dancer is proud.
+
+'Look at 'er legs!' cried one of the men.
+
+'Look at 'er stockin's!' shouted another; and indeed they were
+remarkable, for Liza had chosen them of the same brilliant hue as her
+dress, and was herself most proud of the harmony.
+
+Her dance became gayer: her feet scarcely touched the ground, she
+whirled round madly.
+
+'Take care yer don't split!' cried out one of the wags, at a very
+audacious kick.
+
+The words were hardly out of his mouth when Liza, with a gigantic
+effort, raised her foot and kicked off his hat. The feat was greeted
+with applause, and she went on, making turns and twists, flourishing
+her skirts, kicking higher and higher, and finally, among a volley of
+shouts, fell on her hands and turned head over heels in a magnificent
+catharine-wheel; then scrambling to her feet again, she tumbled into
+the arms of a young man standing in the front of the ring.
+
+'That's right, Liza,' he said. 'Give us a kiss, now,' and promptly
+tried to take one.
+
+'Git aht!' said Liza, pushing him away, not too gently.
+
+'Yus, give us a kiss,' cried another, running up to her.
+
+'I'll smack yer in the fice!' said Liza, elegantly, as she dodged him.
+
+'Ketch 'old on 'er, Bill,' cried out a third, 'an' we'll all kiss
+her.'
+
+'Na, you won't!' shrieked Liza, beginning to run.
+
+'Come on,' they cried, 'we'll ketch 'er.'
+
+She dodged in and out, between their legs, under their arms, and then,
+getting clear of the little crowd, caught up her skirts so that they
+might not hinder her, and took to her heels along the street. A score
+of men set in chase, whistling, shouting, yelling; the people at the
+doors looked up to see the fun, and cried out to her as she dashed
+past; she ran like the wind. Suddenly a man from the side darted into
+the middle of the road, stood straight in her way, and before she knew
+where she was, she had jumped shrieking into his arms, and he, lifting
+her up to him, had imprinted two sounding kisses on her cheeks.
+
+'Oh, you ----!' she said. Her expression was quite unprintable; nor can
+it be euphemized.
+
+There was a shout of laughter from the bystanders, and the young men
+in chase of her, and Liza, looking up, saw a big, bearded man whom she
+had never seen before. She blushed to the very roots of her hair,
+quickly extricated herself from his arms, and, amid the jeers and
+laughter of everyone, slid into the door of the nearest house and was
+lost to view.
+
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+Liza and her mother were having supper. Mrs. Kemp was an elderly woman,
+short, and rather stout, with a red face, and grey hair brushed tight
+back over her forehead. She had been a widow for many years, and since
+her husband's death had lived with Liza in the ground-floor front room
+in which they were now sitting. Her husband had been a soldier, and
+from a grateful country she received a pension large enough to keep
+her from starvation, and by charring and doing such odd jobs as she
+could get she earned a little extra to supply herself with liquor.
+Liza was able to make her own living by working at a factory.
+
+Mrs. Kemp was rather sulky this evening.
+
+'Wot was yer doin' this afternoon, Liza?' she asked.
+
+'I was in the street.'
+
+'You're always in the street when I want yer.'
+
+'I didn't know as 'ow yer wanted me, mother,' answered Liza.
+
+'Well, yer might 'ave come ter see! I might 'ave been dead, for all
+you knew.'
+
+Liza said nothing.
+
+'My rheumatics was thet bad to-dy, thet I didn't know wot ter do with
+myself. The doctor said I was to be rubbed with that stuff 'e give me,
+but yer won't never do nothin' for me.'
+
+'Well, mother,' said Liza, 'your rheumatics was all right yesterday.'
+
+'I know wot you was doin'; you was showin' off thet new dress of
+yours. Pretty waste of money thet is, instead of givin' it me ter sive
+up. An' for the matter of thet, I wanted a new dress far worse than
+you did. But, of course, I don't matter.'
+
+Liza did not answer, and Mrs. Kemp, having nothing more to say,
+continued her supper in silence.
+
+It was Liza who spoke next.
+
+'There's some new people moved in the street. 'Ave you seen 'em?' she
+asked.
+
+'No, wot are they?'
+
+'I dunno; I've seen a chap, a big chap with a beard. I think 'e lives
+up at the other end.'
+
+She felt herself blushing a little.
+
+'No one any good you be sure,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'I can't swaller these
+new people as are comin' in; the street ain't wot it was when I fust
+come.'
+
+When they had done, Mrs. Kemp got up, and having finished her half-pint
+of beer, said to her daughter:
+
+'Put the things awy, Liza. I'm just goin' round to see Mrs. Clayton;
+she's just 'ad twins, and she 'ad nine before these come. It's a pity
+the Lord don't see fit ter tike some on 'em--thet's wot I say.'
+
+After which pious remark Mrs. Kemp went out of the house and turned
+into another a few doors up.
+
+Liza did not clear the supper things away as she was told, but opened
+the window and drew her chair to it. She leant on the sill, looking
+out into the street. The sun had set, and it was twilight, the sky was
+growing dark, bringing to view the twinkling stars; there was no
+breeze, but it was pleasantly and restfully cool. The good folk still
+sat at their doorsteps, talking as before on the same inexhaustible
+subjects, but a little subdued with the approach of night. The boys
+were still playing cricket, but they were mostly at the other end of
+the street, and their shouts were muffled before they reached Liza's
+ears.
+
+She sat, leaning her head on her hands, breathing in the fresh air and
+feeling a certain exquisite sense of peacefulness which she was not
+used to. It was Saturday evening, and she thankfully remembered that
+there would be no factory on the morrow; she was glad to rest.
+Somehow she felt a little tired, perhaps it was through the excitement
+of the afternoon, and she enjoyed the quietness of the evening. It
+seemed so tranquil and still; the silence filled her with a strange
+delight, she felt as if she could sit there all through the night
+looking out into the cool, dark street, and up heavenwards at the
+stars. She was very happy, but yet at the same time experienced a
+strange new sensation of melancholy, and she almost wished to cry.
+
+Suddenly a dark form stepped in front of the open window. She gave a
+little shriek.
+
+''Oo's thet?' she asked, for it was quite dark, and she did not
+recognize the man standing in front of her.
+
+'Me, Liza,' was the answer.
+
+'Tom?'
+
+'Yus!'
+
+It was a young man with light yellow hair and a little fair moustache,
+which made him appear almost boyish; he was light-complexioned and
+blue-eyed, and had a frank and pleasant look mingled with a curious
+bashfulness that made him blush when people spoke to him.
+
+'Wot's up?' asked Liza.
+
+'Come aht for a walk, Liza, will yer?'
+
+'No!' she answered decisively.
+
+'You promised ter yesterday, Liza.'
+
+'Yesterday an' ter-day's two different things,' was her wise reply.
+
+'Yus, come on, Liza.'
+
+'Na, I tell yer, I won't.'
+
+'I want ter talk ter yer, Liza.' Her hand was resting on the
+window-sill, and he put his upon it. She quickly drew it back.
+
+'Well, I don't want yer ter talk ter me.'
+
+But she did, for it was she who broke the silence.
+
+'Say, Tom, 'oo are them new folk as 'as come into the street? It's a
+big chap with a brown beard.'
+
+'D'you mean the bloke as kissed yer this afternoon?'
+
+Liza blushed again.
+
+'Well, why shouldn't 'e kiss me?' she said, with some inconsequence.
+
+'I never said as 'ow 'e shouldn't; I only arst yer if it was the
+sime.'
+
+'Yea, thet's 'oo I mean.'
+
+''Is nime is Blakeston--Jim Blakeston. I've only spoke to 'im once;
+he's took the two top rooms at No. 19 'ouse.'
+
+'Wot's 'e want two top rooms for?'
+
+''Im? Oh, 'e's got a big family--five kids. Ain't yer seen 'is wife
+abaht the street? She's a big, fat woman, as does 'er 'air funny.'
+
+'I didn't know 'e 'ad a wife.'
+
+There was another silence; Liza sat thinking, and Tom stood at the
+window, looking at her.
+
+'Won't yer come aht with me, Liza?' he asked, at last.
+
+'Na, Tom,' she said, a little more gently, 'it's too lite.'
+
+'Liza,' he said, blushing to the roots of his hair.
+
+'Well?'
+
+'Liza'--he couldn't go on, and stuttered in his shyness--'Liza,
+I--I--I loves yer, Liza.'
+
+'Garn awy!'
+
+He was quite brave now, and took hold of her hand.
+
+'Yer know, Liza, I'm earnin' twenty-three shillin's at the works now,
+an' I've got some furniture as mother left me when she was took.'
+
+The girl said nothing.
+
+'Liza, will you 'ave me? I'll make yer a good 'usband, Liza, swop me
+bob, I will; an' yer know I'm not a drinkin' sort. Liza, will yer
+marry me?'
+
+'Na, Tom,' she answered quietly.
+
+'Oh, Liza, won't you 'ave me?'
+
+'Na, Tom, I can't.'
+
+'Why not? You've come aht walkin' with me ever since Whitsun.'
+
+'Ah, things is different now.'
+
+'You're not walkin' aht with anybody else, are you, Liza?' he asked
+quickly.
+
+'Na, not that.'
+
+'Well, why won't yer, Liza? Oh Liza, I do love yer, I've never loved
+anybody as I love you!'
+
+'Oh, I can't, Tom!'
+
+'There ain't no one else?'
+
+'Na.'
+
+'Then why not?'
+
+'I'm very sorry, Tom, but I don't love yer so as ter marry yer.'
+
+'Oh, Liza!'
+
+She could not see the look upon his face, but she heard the agony in
+his voice; and, moved with sudden pity, she bent out, threw her arms
+round his neck, and kissed him on both cheeks.
+
+'Never mind old chap!' she said. 'I'm not worth troublin' abaht.'
+
+And quickly drawing back, she slammed the window to, and moved into
+the further part of the room.
+
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+The following day was Sunday. Liza when she was dressing herself in
+the morning, felt the hardness of fate in the impossibility of eating
+one's cake and having it; she wished she had reserved her new dress,
+and had still before her the sensation of a first appearance in it.
+With a sigh she put on her ordinary everyday working dress, and
+proceeded to get the breakfast ready, for her mother had been out late
+the previous night, celebrating the new arrivals in the street, and
+had the 'rheumatics' this morning.
+
+'Oo, my 'ead!' she was saying, as she pressed her hands on each side
+of her forehead. 'I've got the neuralgy again, wot shall I do? I dunno
+'ow it is, but it always comes on Sunday mornings. Oo, an' my
+rheumatics, they give me sich a doin' in the night!'
+
+'You'd better go to the 'orspital mother.'
+
+'Not I!' answered the worthy lady, with great decision. 'You 'as a
+dozen young chaps messin' you abaht, and lookin' at yer, and then they
+tells yer ter leave off beer and spirrits. Well, wot I says, I says I
+can't do withaht my glass of beer.' She thumped her pillow to
+emphasize the statement.
+
+'Wot with the work I 'ave ter do, lookin' after you and the cookin'
+and gettin' everythin' ready and doin' all the 'ouse-work, and goin'
+aht charring besides--well, I says, if I don't 'ave a drop of beer, I
+says, ter pull me together, I should be under the turf in no time.'
+
+She munched her bread-and-butter and drank her tea.
+
+'When you've done breakfast, Liza,' she said, 'you can give the grate
+a cleanin', an' my boots'd do with a bit of polishin'. Mrs. Tike, in
+the next 'ouse, 'll give yer some blackin'.'
+
+She remained silent for a bit, then said:
+
+'I don't think I shall get up ter-day. Liza. My rheumatics is bad. You
+can put the room straight and cook the dinner.'
+
+'Arright, mother, you stay where you are, an' I'll do everythin' for
+yer.'
+
+'Well, it's only wot yer ought to do, considerin' all the trouble
+you've been ter me when you was young, and considerin' thet when you
+was born the doctor thought I never should get through it. Wot 'ave
+you done with your week's money, Liza?'
+
+'Oh, I've put it awy,' answered Liza quietly.
+
+'Where?' asked her mother.
+
+'Where it'll be safe.'
+
+'Where's that?'
+
+Liza was driven into a corner.
+
+'Why d'you want ter know?' she asked.
+
+'Why shouldn't I know; d'you think I want ter steal it from yer?'
+
+'Na, not thet.'
+
+'Well, why won't you tell me?'
+
+'Oh, a thing's sifer when only one person knows where it is.'
+
+This was a very discreet remark, but it set Mrs. Kemp in a whirlwind of
+passion. She raised herself and sat up in the bed, flourishing her
+clenched fist at her daughter.
+
+'I know wot yer mean, you ---- you!' Her language was emphatic, her
+epithets picturesque, but too forcible for reproduction. 'You think
+I'd steal it,' she went on. 'I know yer! D'yer think I'd go an' tike
+yer dirty money?'
+
+'Well, mother,' said Liza, 'when I've told yer before, the money's
+perspired like.'
+
+'Wot d'yer mean?'
+
+'It got less.'
+
+'Well, I can't 'elp thet, can I? Anyone can come in 'ere and tike the
+money.'
+
+'If it's 'idden awy, they can't, can they, mother?' said Liza.
+
+Mrs. Kemp shook her fist.
+
+'You dirty slut, you,' she said, 'yer think I tike yer money! Why, you
+ought ter give it me every week instead of savin' it up and spendin'
+it on all sorts of muck, while I 'ave ter grind my very bones down to
+keep yer.'
+
+'Yer know, mother, if I didn't 'ave a little bit saved up, we should
+be rather short when you're dahn in yer luck.'
+
+Mrs. Kemp's money always ran out on Tuesday, and Liza had to keep
+things going till the following Saturday.
+
+'Oh, don't talk ter me!' proceeded Mrs. Kemp. 'When I was a girl I give
+all my money ter my mother. She never 'ad ter ask me for nothin'. On
+Saturday when I come 'ome with my wiges, I give it 'er every farthin'.
+That's wot a daughter ought ter do. I can say this for myself, I
+be'aved by my mother like a gal should. None of your prodigal sons for
+me! She didn't 'ave ter ask me for three 'apence ter get a drop of
+beer.'
+
+Liza was wise in her generation; she held her tongue, and put on her
+hat.
+
+'Now, you're goin' aht, and leavin' me; I dunno wot you get up to in
+the street with all those men. No good, I'll be bound. An' 'ere am I
+left alone, an' I might die for all you care.'
+
+In her sorrow at herself the old lady began to cry, and Liza slipped
+out of the room and into the street.
+
+Leaning against the wall of the opposite house was Tom; he came
+towards her.
+
+''Ulloa!' she said, as she saw him. 'Wot are you doin' 'ere?'
+
+'I was waitin' for you ter come aht, Liza,' he answered.
+
+She looked at him quickly.
+
+'I ain't comin' aht with yer ter-day, if thet's wot yer mean,' she
+said.
+
+'I never thought of arskin' yer, Liza--after wot you said ter me last
+night.'
+
+His voice was a little sad, and she felt so sorry for him.
+
+'But yer did want ter speak ter me, didn't yer, Tom?' she said, more
+gently.
+
+'You've got a day off ter-morrow, ain't yer?'
+
+'Bank 'Oliday. Yus! Why?'
+
+'Why, 'cause they've got a drag startin' from the "Red Lion" that's
+goin' down ter Chingford for the day--an' I'm goin'.'
+
+'Yus!' she said.
+
+He looked at her doubtfully.
+
+'Will yer come too, Liza? It'll be a regular beeno; there's only goin'
+ter be people in the street. Eh, Liza?'
+
+'Na, I can't.'
+
+'Why not?'
+
+'I ain't got--I ain't got the ooftish.'
+
+'I mean, won't yer come with me?'
+
+'Na, Tom, thank yer; I can't do thet neither.'
+
+'Yer might as well, Liza; it wouldn't 'urt yer.'
+
+'Na, it wouldn't be right like; I can't come aht with yer, and then
+mean nothin'! It would be doin' yer aht of an outing.'
+
+'I don't see why,' he said, very crestfallen.
+
+'I can't go on keepin' company with you--after what I said last night.'
+
+'I shan't enjoy it a bit without you, Liza.'
+
+'You git somebody else, Tom. You'll do withaht me all right.'
+
+She nodded to him, and walked up the street to the house of her friend
+Sally. Having arrived in front of it, she put her hands to her mouth
+in trumpet form, and shouted:
+
+''I! 'I! 'I! Sally!'
+
+A couple of fellows standing by copied her.
+
+''I! 'I! 'I! Sally!'
+
+'Garn!' said Liza, looking round at them.
+
+Sally did not appear and she repeated her call. The men imitated her,
+and half a dozen took it up, so that there was enough noise to wake
+the seven sleepers.
+
+''I! 'I! 'I! Sally!'
+
+A head was put out of a top window, and Liza, taking off her hat,
+waved it, crying:
+
+'Come on dahn, Sally!'
+
+'Arright, old gal!' shouted the other. 'I'm comin'!'
+
+'So's Christmas!' was Liza's repartee.
+
+There was a clatter down the stairs, and Sally, rushing through the
+passage, threw herself on to her friend. They began fooling, in
+reminiscence of a melodrama they had lately seen together.
+
+'Oh, my darlin' duck!' said Liza, kissing her and pressing her, with
+affected rapture, to her bosom.
+
+'My sweetest sweet!' replied Sally, copying her.
+
+'An' 'ow does your lidyship ter-day?'
+
+'Oh!'--with immense languor--'fust class; and is your royal 'ighness
+quite well?'
+
+'I deeply regret,' answered Liza, 'but my royal 'ighness 'as got the
+collywobbles.'
+
+Sally was a small, thin girl, with sandy hair and blue eyes, and a
+very freckled complexion. She had an enormous mouth, with terrible,
+square teeth set wide apart, which looked as if they could masticate
+an iron bar. She was dressed like Liza, in a shortish black skirt and
+an old-fashioned bodice, green and grey and yellow with age; her
+sleeves were tucked up to the elbow, and she wore a singularly dirty
+apron, that had once been white.
+
+'Wot 'ave you got yer 'air in them things for?' asked Liza, pointing
+to the curl-papers. 'Goin' aht with yer young man ter-day?'
+
+'No, I'm going ter stay 'ere all day.'
+
+'Wot for, then?'
+
+'Why, 'Arry's going ter tike me ter Chingford ter-morrer.'
+
+'Oh? In the "Red Lion" brake?'
+
+'Yus. Are you goin'?'
+
+'Na!'
+
+'Not! Well, why don't you get round Tom? 'E'll tike yer, and jolly
+glad 'e'll be, too.'
+
+''E arst me ter go with 'im, but I wouldn't.'
+
+'Swop me bob--why not?'
+
+'I ain't keeping company with 'im.'
+
+'Yer might 'ave gone with 'im all the sime.'
+
+'Na. You're goin' with 'Arry, ain't yer?'
+
+'Yus!'
+
+'An' you're goin' to 'ave 'im?'
+
+'Right again!'
+
+'Well, I couldn't go with Tom, and then throw him over.'
+
+'Well, you are a mug!'
+
+The two girls had strolled down towards the Westminster Bridge Road,
+and Sally, meeting her young man, had gone to him. Liza walked back,
+wishing to get home in time to cook the dinner. But she went slowly,
+for she knew every dweller in the street, and as she passed the groups
+sitting at their doors, as on the previous evening, but this time
+mostly engaged in peeling potatoes or shelling peas, she stopped and
+had a little chat. Everyone liked her, and was glad to have her
+company. 'Good old Liza,' they would say, as she left them, 'she's a
+rare good sort, ain't she?'
+
+She asked after the aches and pains of all the old people, and
+delicately inquired after the babies, past and future; the children
+hung on to her skirts and asked her to play with them, and she would
+hold one end of the rope while tiny little ragged girls skipped,
+invariably entangling themselves after two jumps.
+
+She had nearly reached home, when she heard a voice cry:
+
+'Mornin'!'
+
+She looked round and recognized the man whom Tom had told her was
+called Jim Blakeston. He was sitting on a stool at the door of one of
+the houses, playing with two young children, to whom he was giving
+rides on his knee. She remembered his heavy brown beard from the day
+before, and she had also an impression of great size; she noticed this
+morning that he was, in fact, a big man, tall and broad, and she saw
+besides that he had large, masculine features and pleasant brown eyes.
+She supposed him to be about forty.
+
+'Mornin'!' he said again, as she stopped and looked at him.
+
+'Well, yer needn't look as if I was goin' ter eat yer up, 'cause I
+ain't,' he said.
+
+''Oo are you? I'm not afeard of yer.'
+
+'Wot are yer so bloomin' red abaht?' he asked pointedly.
+
+'Well, I'm 'ot.'
+
+'You ain't shirty 'cause I kissed yer last night?'
+
+'I'm not shirty; but it was pretty cool, considerin' like as I didn't
+know yer.'
+
+'Well, you run into my arms.'
+
+'Thet I didn't; you run aht and caught me.'
+
+'An' kissed yer before you could say "Jack Robinson".' He laughed at
+the thought. 'Well, Liza,' he went on, 'seein' as 'ow I kissed yer
+against yer will, the best thing you can do ter make it up is to kiss
+me not against yer will.'
+
+'Me?' said Liza, looking at him, open-mouthed. 'Well you are a pill!'
+
+The children began to clamour for the riding, which had been
+discontinued on Liza's approach.
+
+'Are them your kids?' she asked.
+
+'Yus; them's two on 'em.'
+
+''Ow many 'ave yer got?'
+
+'Five; the eldest gal's fifteen, and the next one 'oo's a boy's
+twelve, and then there are these two and baby.'
+
+'Well, you've got enough for your money.'
+
+'Too many for me--and more comin'.'
+
+'Ah well,' said Liza, laughing, 'thet's your fault, ain't it?'
+
+Then she bade him good morning, and strolled off.
+
+He watched her as she went, and saw half a dozen little boys surround
+her and beg her to join them in their game of cricket. They caught
+hold of her arms and skirts, and pulled her to their pitch.
+
+'No, I can't,' she said trying to disengage herself. 'I've got the
+dinner ter cook.'
+
+'Dinner ter cook?' shouted one small boy. 'Why, they always cooks the
+cats' meat at the shop.'
+
+'You little so-and-so!' said Liza, somewhat inelegantly, making a dash
+at him.
+
+He dodged her and gave a whoop; then turning he caught her round the
+legs, and another boy catching hold of her round the neck they dragged
+her down, and all three struggled on the ground, rolling over and
+over; the other boys threw themselves on the top, so that there was a
+great heap of legs and arms and heads waving and bobbing up and down.
+
+Liza extricated herself with some difficulty, and taking off her hat
+she began cuffing the boys with it, using all the time the most lively
+expressions. Then, having cleared the field, she retired victorious
+into her own house and began cooking the dinner.
+
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+Bank Holiday was a beautiful day: the cloudless sky threatened a
+stifling heat for noontide, but early in the morning, when Liza got
+out of bed and threw open the window, it was fresh and cool. She
+dressed herself, wondering how she should spend her day; she thought
+of Sally going off to Chingford with her lover, and of herself
+remaining alone in the dull street with half the people away. She
+almost wished it were an ordinary work-day, and that there were no
+such things as bank holidays. And it seemed to be a little like two
+Sundays running, but with the second rather worse than the first. Her
+mother was still sleeping, and she was in no great hurry about getting
+the breakfast, but stood quietly looking out of the window at the
+house opposite.
+
+In a little while she saw Sally coming along. She was arrayed in
+purple and fine linen--a very smart red dress, trimmed with velveteen,
+and a tremendous hat covered with feathers. She had reaped the benefit
+of keeping her hair in curl-papers since Saturday, and her sandy
+fringe stretched from ear to ear. She was in enormous spirits.
+
+''Ulloa, Liza!' she called as soon as she saw her at the window.
+
+Liza looked at her a little enviously.
+
+''Ulloa!' she answered quietly.
+
+'I'm just goin' to the "Red Lion" to meet 'Arry.'
+
+'At what time d'yer start?'
+
+'The brake leaves at 'alf-past eight sharp.'
+
+'Why, it's only eight; it's only just struck at the church. 'Arry
+won't be there yet, will he?'
+
+'Oh, 'e's sure ter be early. I couldn't wite. I've been witin' abaht
+since 'alf-past six. I've been up since five this morning.'
+
+'Since five! What 'ave you been doin'?'
+
+'Dressin' myself and doin' my 'air. I woke up so early. I've been
+dreamin' all the night abaht it. I simply couldn't sleep.'
+
+'Well, you are a caution!' said Liza.
+
+'Bust it, I don't go on the spree every day! Oh, I do 'ope I shall
+enjoy myself.'
+
+'Why, you simply dunno where you are!' said Liza, a little crossly.
+
+'Don't you wish you was comin', Liza?' asked Sally.
+
+'Na! I could if I liked, but I don't want ter.'
+
+'You are a coughdrop--thet's all I can say. Ketch me refusin' when I
+'ave the chanst.'
+
+'Well, it's done now. I ain't got the chanst any more.' Liza said this
+with just a little regret in her voice.
+
+'Come on dahn to the "Red Lion", Liza, and see us off,' said Sally.
+
+'No, I'm damned if I do!' answered Liza, with some warmth.
+
+'You might as well. P'raps 'Arry won't be there, an' you can keep me
+company till 'e comes. An' you can see the 'orses.'
+
+Liza was really very anxious to see the brake and the horses and the
+people going; but she hesitated a little longer. Sally asked her once
+again. Then she said:
+
+'Arright; I'll come with yer, and wite till the bloomin' old thing
+starts.'
+
+She did not trouble to put on a hat, but just walked out as she was,
+and accompanied Sally to the public-house which was getting up the
+expedition.
+
+Although there was still nearly half an hour to wait, the brake was
+drawn up before the main entrance; it was large and long, with seats
+arranged crosswise, so that four people could sit on each; and it was
+drawn by two powerful horses, whose harness the coachman was now
+examining. Sally was not the first on the scene, for already half a
+dozen people had taken their places, but Harry had not yet arrived.
+The two girls stood by the public-door, looking at the preparations.
+Huge baskets full of food were brought out and stowed away; cases of
+beer were hoisted up and put in every possible place--under the seats,
+under the driver's legs, and even beneath the brake. As more people
+came up, Sally began to get excited about Harry's non-appearance.
+
+'I say, I wish 'e'd come!' she said. ''E is lite.'
+
+Then she looked up and down the Westminster Bridge Road to see if he
+was in view.
+
+'Suppose 'e don't turn up! I will give it 'im when 'e comes for
+keepin' me witin' like this.'
+
+'Why, there's a quarter of an hour yet,' said Liza, who saw nothing at
+all to get excited about.
+
+At last Sally saw her lover, and rushed off to meet him. Liza was left
+alone, rather disconsolate at all this bustle and preparation. She was
+not sorry that she had refused Tom's invitation, but she did wish that
+she had conscientiously been able to accept it. Sally and her friend
+came up; attired in his Sunday best, he was a fit match for his
+lady-love--he wore a shirt and collar, unusual luxuries--and be
+carried under his arm a concertina to make things merry on the way.
+
+'Ain't you goin', Liza?' he asked in surprise at seeing her without a
+hat and with her apron on.
+
+'Na,' said Sally, 'ain't she a soft? Tom said 'e'd tike 'er, an' she
+wouldn't.'
+
+'Well, I'm dashed!'
+
+Then they climbed the ladder and took their seats, so that Liza was
+left alone again. More people had come along, and the brake was nearly
+full. Liza knew them all, but they were too busy taking their places
+to talk to her. At last Tom came. He saw her standing there and went
+up to her.
+
+'Won't yer change yer mind, Liza, an' come along with us?'
+
+'Na, Tom, I told yer I wouldn't--it's not right like.' She felt she
+must repeat that to herself often.
+
+'I shan't enjoy it a bit without you,' he said.
+
+'Well, I can't 'elp it!' she answered, somewhat sullenly.
+
+At that moment a man came out of the public-house with a horn in his
+hand; her heart gave a great jump, for if there was anything she
+adored it was to drive along to the tootling of a horn. She really
+felt it was very hard lines that she must stay at home when all these
+people were going to have such a fine time; and they were all so
+merry, and she could picture to herself so well the delights of the
+drive and the picnic. She felt very much inclined to cry. But she
+mustn't go, and she wouldn't go: she repeated that to herself twice as
+the trumpeter gave a preliminary tootle.
+
+Two more people hurried along, and when they came near Liza saw that
+they were Jim Blakeston and a woman whom she supposed to be his wife.
+
+'Are you comin', Liza?' Jim said to her.
+
+'No,' she answered. 'I didn't know you was goin'.'
+
+'I wish you was comin',' he replied, 'we shall 'ave a game.'
+
+She could only just keep back the sobs; she so wished she were going.
+It did seem hard that she must remain behind; and all because she
+wasn't going to marry Tom. After all, she didn't see why that should
+prevent her; there really was no need to refuse for that. She began to
+think she had acted foolishly: it didn't do anyone any good that she
+refused to go out with Tom, and no one thought it anything specially
+fine that she should renounce her pleasure. Sally merely thought her a
+fool.
+
+Tom was standing by her side, silent, and looking disappointed and
+rather unhappy. Jim said to her, in a low voice:
+
+'I am sorry you're not comin'!'
+
+It was too much. She did want to go so badly, and she really couldn't
+resist any longer. If Tom would only ask her once more, and if she
+could only change her mind reasonably and decently, she would accept;
+but he stood silent, and she had to speak herself. It was very
+undignified.
+
+'Yer know, Tom.' she said, 'I don't want ter spoil your day.'
+
+'Well, I don't think I shall go alone; it 'ud be so precious slow.'
+
+Supposing he didn't ask her again! What should she do? She looked up
+at the clock on the front of the pub, and noticed that it only wanted
+five minutes to the half-hour. How terrible it would be if the brake
+started and he didn't ask her! Her heart beat violently against her
+chest, and in her agitation she fumbled with the corner of her apron.
+
+'Well, what can I do, Tom dear?'
+
+'Why, come with me, of course. Oh. Liza, do say yes.'
+
+She had got the offer again, and it only wanted a little seemly
+hesitation, and the thing was done.
+
+'I should like ter, Tom,' she said. 'But d'you think it 'ud be
+arright?'
+
+'Yus, of course it would. Come on, Liza!' In his eagerness he clasped
+her hand.
+
+'Well,' she remarked, looking down, 'if it'd spoil your 'oliday--.'
+
+'I won't go if you don't--swop me bob, I won't!' he answered.
+
+'Well, if I come, it won't mean that I'm keepin' company with you.'
+
+'Na, it won't mean anythin' you don't like.'
+
+'Arright!' she said.
+
+'You'll come?' he could hardly believe her.
+
+'Yus!' she answered, smiling all over her face.
+
+'You're a good sort, Liza! I say, 'Arry, Liza's comin'!' he shouted.
+
+'Liza? 'Oorray!' shouted Harry.
+
+''S'at right, Liza?' called Sally.
+
+And Liza feeling quite joyful and light of heart called back:
+
+'Yus!'
+
+''Oorray!' shouted Sally in answer.
+
+'Thet's right, Liza,' called Jim; and he smiled pleasantly as she
+looked at him.
+
+'There's just room for you two 'ere,' said Harry, pointing to the
+vacant places by his side.
+
+'Arright!' said Tom.
+
+'I must jest go an' get a 'at an' tell mother,' said Liza.
+
+'There's just three minutes. Be quick!' answered Tom, and as she
+scampered off as hard as she could go, he shouted to the coachman:
+''Old 'ard; there' another passenger comin' in a minute.'
+
+'Arright, old cock,' answered the coachman: 'no 'urry!'
+
+Liza rushed into the room, and called to her mother, who was still
+asleep:
+
+'Mother! mother! I'm going to Chingford!'
+
+Then tearing off her old dress she slipped into her gorgeous violet
+one; she kicked off her old ragged shoes and put on her new boots. She
+brushed her hair down and rapidly gave her fringe a twirl and a
+twist--it was luckily still moderately in curl from the previous
+Saturday--and putting on her black hat with all the feathers, she
+rushed along the street, and scrambling up the brake steps fell
+panting on Tom's lap.
+
+The coachman cracked his whip, the trumpeter tootled his horn, and
+with a cry and a cheer from the occupants, the brake clattered down
+the road.
+
+
+
+
+5
+
+
+As soon as Liza had recovered herself she started examining the people
+on the brake; and first of all she took stock of the woman whom Jim
+Blakeston had with him.
+
+'This is my missus!' said Jim, pointing to her with his thumb.
+
+'You ain't been dahn in the street much, 'ave yer?' said Liza, by way
+of making the acquaintance.
+
+'Na,' answered Mrs. Blakeston, 'my youngster's been dahn with the
+measles, an' I've 'ad my work cut out lookin' after 'im.'
+
+'Oh, an' is 'e all right now?'
+
+'Yus, 'e's gettin' on fine, an' Jim wanted ter go ter Chingford
+ter-day, an' 'e says ter me, well, 'e says, "You come along ter
+Chingford, too; it'll do you good." An' 'e says, "You can leave
+Polly"--she's my eldest, yer know--"you can leave Polly," says 'e,
+"ter look after the kids." So I says, "Well, I don't mind if I do,"
+says I.'
+
+Meanwhile Liza was looking at her. First she noticed her dress: she
+wore a black cloak and a funny, old-fashioned black bonnet; then
+examining the woman herself, she saw a middle-sized, stout person
+anywhere between thirty and forty years old. She had a large, fat face
+with a big mouth, and her hair was curiously done, parted in the
+middle and plastered down on each side of the head in little plaits.
+One could see that she was a woman of great strength, notwithstanding
+evident traces of hard work and much child-bearing.
+
+Liza knew all the other passengers, and now that everyone was settled
+down and had got over the excitement of departure, they had time to
+greet one another. They were delighted to have Liza among them, for
+where she was there was no dullness. Her attention was first of all
+taken up by a young coster who had arrayed himself in the traditional
+costume--grey suit, tight trousers, and shiny buttons in profusion.
+
+'Wot cheer, Bill!' she cried to him.
+
+'Wot cheer, Liza!' he answered.
+
+'You are got up dossy, you'll knock 'em.'
+
+'Na then, Liza Kemp,' said his companion, turning round with mock
+indignation, 'you let my Johnny alone. If you come gettin' round 'im
+I'll give you wot for.'
+
+'Arright, Clary Sharp, I don't want 'im,' answered Liza. 'I've got one
+of my own, an' thet's a good 'andful--ain't it, Tom?'
+
+Tom was delighted, and, unable to find a repartee, in his pleasure
+gave Liza a great nudge with his elbow.
+
+''Oo, I say,' said Liza, putting her hand to her side. 'Tike care of
+my ribs; you'll brike 'em.'
+
+'Them's not yer ribs,' shouted a candid friend--'them's yer
+whale-bones yer afraid of breakin'.'
+
+'Garn!'
+
+''Ave yer got whale-bones?' said Tom, with affected simplicity,
+putting his arm round her waist to feel.
+
+'Na, then,' she said, 'keep off the grass!'
+
+'Well, I only wanted ter know if you'd got any.'
+
+'Garn; yer don't git round me like thet.'
+
+He still kept as he was.
+
+'Na then,' she repeated, 'tike yer 'and away. If yer touch me there
+you'll 'ave ter marry me.'
+
+'Thet's just wot I wants ter do, Liza!'
+
+'Shut it!' she answered cruelly, and drew his arm away from her waist.
+
+The horses scampered on, and the man behind blew his horn with vigour.
+
+'Don't bust yerself, guv'nor!' said one of the passengers to him when
+he made a particularly discordant sound. They drove along eastwards,
+and as the hour grew later the streets became more filled and the
+traffic greater. At last they got on the road to Chingford, and caught
+up numbers of other vehicles going in the same direction--donkey-shays,
+pony-carts, tradesmen's carts, dog-carts, drags, brakes, every
+conceivable kind of wheel thing, all filled with people, the
+wretched donkey dragging along four solid rate-payers to the pair
+of stout horses easily managing a couple of score. They exchanged
+cheers and greetings as they passed, the 'Red Lion' brake being
+noticeable above all for its uproariousness. As the day wore on
+the sun became hotter, and the road seemed more dusty and threw up a
+greater heat.
+
+'I am getting 'ot!' was the common cry, and everyone began to puff and
+sweat.
+
+The ladies removed their cloaks and capes, and the men, following
+their example, took off their coats and sat in their shirt-sleeves.
+Whereupon ensued much banter of a not particularly edifying kind
+respecting the garments which each person would like to remove--which
+showed that the innuendo of French farce is not so unknown to the
+upright, honest Englishman as might be supposed.
+
+At last came in sight the half-way house, where the horses were to
+have a rest and a sponge down. They had been talking of it for the
+last quarter of a mile, and when at length it was observed on the top
+of a hill a cheer broke out, and some thirsty wag began to sing 'Rule
+Britannia', whilst others burst forth with a different national ditty,
+'Beer, Glorious Beer!' They drew up before the pub entrance, and all
+climbed down as quickly as they could. The bar was besieged, and
+potmen and barmaids were quickly busy drawing beer and handing it over
+to the eager folk outside.
+
+THE IDYLL OF CORYDON AND PHYLLIS.
+
+Gallantry ordered that the faithful swain and the amorous shepherdess
+should drink out of one and the same pot.
+
+''Urry up an' 'ave your whack,' said Corydon, politely handing the
+foaming bowl for his fair one to drink from.
+
+Phyllis, without replying, raised it to her lips and drank deep. The
+swain watched anxiously.
+
+''Ere, give us a chanst!' he said, as the pot was raised higher and
+higher and its contents appeared to be getting less and less.
+
+At this the amorous shepherdess stopped and handed the pot to her
+lover.
+
+'Well, I'm dashed!' said Corydon, looking into it; and added: 'I guess
+you know a thing or two.' Then with courtly grace putting his own lips
+to the place where had been those of his beloved, finished the pint.
+
+'Go' lumme!' remarked the shepherdess, smacking her lips, 'that was
+somethin' like!' And she put out her tongue and licked her lips, and
+then breathed deeply.
+
+The faithful swain having finished, gave a long sigh, and said:
+
+'Well, I could do with some more!'
+
+'For the matter of thet, I could do with a gargle!'
+
+Thus encouraged, the gallant returned to the bar, and soon brought out
+a second pint.
+
+'You 'ave fust pop,' amorously remarked Phyllis, and he took a long
+drink and handed the pot to her.
+
+She, with maiden modesty, turned it so as to have a different part to
+drink from; but he remarked as he saw her:
+
+'You are bloomin' particular.'
+
+Then, unwilling to grieve him, she turned it back again and applied
+her ruby lips to the place where his had been.
+
+'Now we shan't be long!' she remarked, as she handed him back the pot.
+
+The faithful swain took out of his pocket a short clay pipe, blew
+through it, filled it, and began to smoke, while Phyllis sighed at the
+thought of the cool liquid gliding down her throat, and with the
+pleasing recollection gently stroked her stomach. Then Corydon spat,
+and immediately his love said:
+
+'I can spit farther than thet.'
+
+'I bet yer yer can't.'
+
+She tried, and did. He collected himself and spat again, further than
+before, she followed him, and in this idyllic contest they remained
+till the tootling horn warned them to take their places.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At last they reached Chingford, and here the horses were taken out and
+the drag, on which they were to lunch, drawn up in a sheltered spot.
+They were all rather hungry, but as it was not yet feeding-time, they
+scattered to have drinks meanwhile. Liza and Tom, with Sally and her
+young man, went off together to the nearest public-house, and as they
+drank beer, Harry, who was a great sportsman, gave them a graphic
+account of a prize-fight he had seen on the previous Saturday evening,
+which had been rendered specially memorable by one man being so hurt
+that he had died from the effects. It had evidently been a very fine
+affair, and Harry said that several swells from the West End had been
+present, and he related their ludicrous efforts to get in without
+being seen by anyone, and their terror when someone to frighten them
+called out 'Copper!' Then Tom and he entered into a discussion on the
+subject of boxing, in which Tom, being a shy and undogmatic sort of
+person, was entirely worsted. After this they strolled back to the
+brake, and found things being prepared for luncheon; the hampers were
+brought out and emptied, and the bottles of beer in great profusion
+made many a thirsty mouth thirstier.
+
+'Come along, lidies an' gentlemen--if you are gentlemen,' shouted the
+coachman; 'the animals is now goin' ter be fed!'
+
+'Garn awy,' answered somebody, 'we're not hanimals; we don't drink
+water.'
+
+'You're too clever,' remarked the coachman; 'I can see you've just
+come from the board school.'
+
+As the former speaker was a lady of quite mature appearance, the
+remark was not without its little irony. The other man blew his horn
+by way of grace, at which Liza called out to him:
+
+'Don't do thet, you'll bust, I know you will, an' if you bust you'll
+quite spoil my dinner!'
+
+Then they all set to. Pork-pies, saveloys, sausages, cold potatoes,
+hard-boiled eggs, cold bacon, veal, ham, crabs and shrimps, cheese,
+butter, cold suet-puddings and treacle, gooseberry-tarts,
+cherry-tarts, butter, bread, more sausages, and yet again pork-pies!
+They devoured the provisions like ravening beasts, stolidly, silently,
+earnestly, in large mouthfuls which they shoved down their throats
+unmasticated. The intelligent foreigner seeing them thus dispose of
+their food would have understood why England is a great nation. He
+would have understood why Britons never, never will be slaves. They
+never stopped except to drink, and then at each gulp they emptied
+their glass; no heel-taps! And still they ate, and still they
+drank--but as all things must cease, they stopped at last, and a long
+sigh of content broke from their two-and-thirty throats.
+
+Then the gathering broke up, and the good folk paired themselves and
+separated. Harry and his lady strolled off to secluded byways in the
+forest, so that they might discourse of their loves and digest their
+dinner. Tom had all the morning been waiting for this happy moment; he
+had counted on the expansive effect of a full stomach to thaw his
+Liza's coldness, and he had pictured himself sitting on the grass with
+his back against the trunk of a spreading chestnut-tree, with his arm
+round his Liza's waist, and her head resting affectionately on his
+manly bosom. Liza, too, had foreseen the separation into couples after
+dinner, and had been racking her brains to find a means of getting out
+of it.
+
+'I don't want 'im slobberin' abaht me,' she said; 'it gives me the
+sick, all this kissin' an' cuddlin'!'
+
+She scarcely knew why she objected to his caresses; but they bored her
+and made her cross. But luckily the blessed institution of marriage
+came to her rescue, for Jim and his wife naturally had no particular
+desire to spend the afternoon together, and Liza, seeing a little
+embarrassment on their part, proposed that they should go for a walk
+together in the forest.
+
+Jim agreed at once, and with pleasure, but Tom was dreadfully
+disappointed. He hadn't the courage to say anything, but he glared at
+Blakeston. Jim smiled benignly at him, and Tom began to sulk. Then
+they began a funny walk through the woods. Jim tried to go on with
+Liza, and Liza was not at all disinclined to this, for she had come to
+the conclusion that Jim, notwithstanding his 'cheek', was not ''alf a
+bad sort'. But Tom kept walking alongside of them, and as Jim slightly
+quickened his pace so as to get Liza on in front, Tom quickened his,
+and Mrs. Blakeston, who didn't want to be left behind, had to break
+into a little trot to keep up with them. Jim tried also to get Liza
+all to himself in the conversation, and let Tom see that he was out in
+the cold, but Tom would break in with cross, sulky remarks, just to
+make the others uncomfortable. Liza at last got rather vexed with him.
+
+'Strikes me you got aht of bed the wrong way this mornin',' she said
+to him.
+
+'Yer didn't think thet when yer said you'd come aht with me.' He
+emphasized the 'me'.
+
+Liza shrugged her shoulders.
+
+'You give me the 'ump,' she said. 'If yer wants ter mike a fool of
+yerself, you can go elsewhere an' do it.'
+
+'I suppose yer want me ter go awy now,' he said angrily.
+
+'I didn't say I did.'
+
+'Arright, Liza, I won't stay where I'm not wanted.' And turning on
+his heel he marched off, striking through the underwood into the midst
+of the forest.
+
+He felt extremely unhappy as he wandered on, and there was a choky
+feeling in his throat as he thought of Liza: she was very unkind and
+ungrateful, and he wished he had never come to Chingford. She might so
+easily have come for a walk with him instead of going with that beast
+of a Blakeston; she wouldn't ever do anything for him, and he hated
+her--but all the same, he was a poor foolish thing in love, and he
+began to feel that perhaps he had been a little exacting and a little
+forward to take offence. And then he wished he had never said
+anything, and he wanted so much to see her and make it up. He made his
+way back to Chingford, hoping she would not make him wait too long.
+
+Liza was a little surprised when Tom turned and left them.
+
+'Wot 'as 'e got the needle abaht?' she said.
+
+'Why, 'e's jealous,' answered Jim, with a laugh.
+
+'Tom jealous?'
+
+'Yus; 'e's jealous of me.'
+
+'Well, 'e ain't got no cause ter be jealous of anyone--that 'e ain't!'
+said Liza, and continued by telling him all about Tom: how he had
+wanted to marry her and she wouldn't have him, and how she had only
+agreed to come to Chingford with him on the understanding that she
+should preserve her entire freedom. Jim listened sympathetically, but
+his wife paid no attention; she was doubtless engaged in thought
+respecting her household or her family.
+
+When they got back to Chingford they saw Tom standing in solitude
+looking at them. Liza was struck by the woebegone expression on his
+face; she felt she had been cruel to him, and leaving the Blakestons
+went up to him.
+
+'I say, Tom,' she said, 'don't tike on so; I didn't mean it.'
+
+He was bursting to apologize for his behaviour.
+
+'Yer know, Tom,' she went on, 'I'm rather 'asty, an' I'm sorry I said
+wot I did.'
+
+'Oh, Liza, you are good! You ain't cross with me?'
+
+'Me? Na; it's you thet oughter be cross.'
+
+'You are a good sort, Liza!'
+
+'You ain't vexed with me?'
+
+'Give me Liza every time; that's wot I say,' he answered, as his face
+lit up. 'Come along an' 'ave tea, an' then we'll go for a
+donkey-ride.'
+
+The donkey-ride was a great success. Liza was a little afraid at
+first, so Tom walked by her side to take care of her, she screamed the
+moment the beast began to trot, and clutched hold of Tom to save
+herself from falling, and as he felt her hand on his shoulder, and
+heard her appealing cry: 'Oh, do 'old me! I'm fallin'!' he felt that
+he had never in his life been so deliciously happy. The whole party
+joined in, and it was proposed that they should have races; but in the
+first heat, when the donkeys broke into a canter, Liza fell off into
+Tom's arms and the donkeys scampered on without her.
+
+'I know wot I'll do,' she said, when the runaway had been recovered.
+'I'll ride 'im straddlewyse.'
+
+'Garn!' said Sally, 'yer can't with petticoats.'
+
+'Yus, I can, an' I will too!'
+
+So another donkey was procured, this time with a man's saddle, and
+putting her foot in the stirrup, she cocked her leg over and took her
+seat triumphantly. Neither modesty nor bashfulness was to be reckoned
+among Liza's faults, and in this position she felt quite at ease.
+
+'I'll git along arright now, Tom,' she said; 'you garn and
+git yerself a moke, and come an' jine in.'
+
+The next race was perfectly uproarious. Liza kicked and beat her
+donkey with all her might, shrieking and laughing the white, and
+finally came in winner by a length. After that they felt rather warm
+and dry, and repaired to the public-house to restore themselves and
+talk over the excitements of the racecourse.
+
+When they had drunk several pints of beer Liza and Sally, with their
+respective adorers and the Blakestons, walked round to find other
+means of amusing themselves; they were arrested by a coconut-shy.
+
+'Oh, let's 'ave a shy!' said Liza, excitedly, at which the unlucky men
+had to pull out their coppers, while Sally and Liza made ludicrously
+bad shots at the coconuts.
+
+'It looks so bloomin' easy,' said Liza, brushing up her hair, 'but I
+can't 'it the blasted thing. You 'ave a shot, Tom.'
+
+He and Harry were equally unskilful, but Jim got three coconuts
+running, and the proprietors of the show began to look on him with
+some concern.
+
+'You are a dab at it,' said Liza, in admiration.
+
+They tried to induce Mrs. Blakeston to try her luck, but she stoutly
+refused.
+
+'I don't old with such foolishness. It's wiste of money ter me,' she
+said.
+
+'Na then, don't crack on, old tart,' remarked her husband, 'let's go
+an' eat the coconuts.'
+
+There was one for each couple, and after the ladies had sucked the
+juice they divided them and added their respective shares to their
+dinners and teas. Supper came next. Again they fell to sausage-rolls,
+boiled eggs, and saveloys, and countless bottles of beer were added to
+those already drunk.
+
+'I dunno 'ow many bottles of beer I've drunk--I've lost count,' said
+Liza; whereat there was a general laugh.
+
+They still had an hour before the brake was to start back, and it was
+then the concertinas came in useful. They sat down on the grass, and
+the concert was begun by Harry, who played a solo; then there was a
+call for a song, and Jim stood up and sang that ancient ditty, 'O dem
+Golden Kippers, O'. There was no shyness in the company, and Liza,
+almost without being asked, gave another popular comic song. Then
+there was more concertina playing, and another demand for a song. Liza
+turned to Tom, who was sitting quietly by her side.
+
+'Give us a song, old cock,' she said.
+
+'I can't,' he answered. 'I'm not a singin' sort.' At which Blakeston
+got up and offered to sing again.
+
+'Tom is rather a soft,' said Liza to herself, 'not like that cove
+Blakeston.'
+
+They repaired to the public-house to have a few last drinks before the
+brake started, and when the horn blew to warn them, rather unsteadily,
+they proceeded to take their places.
+
+Liza, as she scrambled up the steps, said: 'Well, I believe I'm
+boozed.'
+
+The coachman had arrived at the melancholy stage of intoxication, and
+was sitting on his box holding his reins, with his head bent on his
+chest. He was thinking sadly of the long-lost days of his youth, and
+wishing he had been a better man.
+
+Liza had no respect for such holy emotions, and she brought down her
+fist on the crown of his hat, and bashed it over his eyes.
+
+'Na then, old jellybelly,' she said, 'wot's the good of 'avin' a fice
+as long as a kite?'
+
+He turned round and smote her.
+
+'Jellybelly yerself!' said he.
+
+'Puddin' fice!' she cried.
+
+'Kite fice!'
+
+'Boss eye!'
+
+She was tremendously excited, laughing and singing, keeping the whole
+company in an uproar. In her jollity she had changed hats with Tom,
+and he in her big feathers made her shriek with laughter. When they
+started they began to sing 'For 'e's a jolly good feller', making the
+night resound with their noisy voices.
+
+Liza and Tom and the Blakestons had got a seat together, Liza being
+between the two men. Tom was perfectly happy, and only wished that
+they might go on so for ever. Gradually as they drove along they
+became quieter, their singing ceased, and they talked in undertones.
+Some of them slept; Sally and her young man were leaning up against
+one another, slumbering quite peacefully. The night was beautiful, the
+sky still blue, very dark, scattered over with countless brilliant
+stars, and Liza, as she looked up at the heavens, felt a certain
+emotion, as if she wished to be taken in someone's arms, or feel some
+strong man's caress; and there was in her heart a strange sensation as
+though it were growing big. She stopped speaking, and all four were
+silent. Then slowly she felt Tom's arm steal round her waist,
+cautiously, as though it were afraid of being there; this time both
+she and Tom were happy. But suddenly there was a movement on the other
+side of her, a hand was advanced along her leg, and her hand was
+grasped and gently pressed. It was Jim Blakeston. She started a little
+and began trembling so that Tom noticed it, and whispered:
+
+'You're cold, Liza.'
+
+'Na, I'm not, Tom; it's only a sort of shiver thet went through me.'
+
+His arm gave her waist a squeeze, and at the same time the big rough
+hand pressed her little one. And so she sat between them till they
+reached the 'Red Lion' in the Westminster Bridge Road, and Tom said to
+himself: 'I believe she does care for me after all.'
+
+When they got down they all said good night, and Sally and Liza, with
+their respective slaves and the Blakestons, marched off homewards. At
+the corner of Vere Street Harry said to Tom and Blakeston:
+
+'I say, you blokes, let's go an' 'ave another drink before closin'
+time.'
+
+'I don't mind,' said Tom, 'after we've took the gals 'ome.'
+
+'Then we shan't 'ave time, it's just on closin' time now.' answered
+Harry.
+
+'Well, we can't leave 'em 'ere.'
+
+'Yus, you can,' said Sally. 'No one'll run awy with us.'
+
+Tom did not want to part from Liza, but she broke in with:
+
+'Yus, go on, Tom. Sally an' me'll git along arright, an' you ain't got
+too much time.'
+
+'Yus, good night, 'Arry,' said Sally to settle the matter.
+
+'Good night, old gal,' he answered, 'give us another slobber.'
+
+And she, not at all unwilling, surrendered herself to him, while he
+imprinted two sounding kisses on her cheeks.
+
+'Good night, Tom,' said Liza, holding out her hand.
+
+'Good night, Liza,' he answered, taking it, but looking very wistfully
+at her.
+
+She understood, and with a kindly smile lifted up her face to him. He
+bent down and, taking her in his arms, kissed her passionately.
+
+'You do kiss nice, Liza,' he said, making the others laugh.
+
+'Thanks for tikin' me aht, old man,' she said as they parted.
+
+'Arright, Liza,' he answered, and added, almost to himself: 'God bless
+yer!'
+
+''Ulloa, Blakeston, ain't you comin'?' said Harry, seeing that Jim was
+walking off with his wife instead of joining him and Tom.
+
+'Na,' he answered, 'I'm goin' 'ome. I've got ter be up at five
+ter-morrer.'
+
+'You are a chap!' said Harry, disgustedly, strolling off with Tom to
+the pub, while the others made their way down the sleeping street.
+
+The house where Sally lived came first, and she left them; then,
+walking a few yards more, they came to the Blakestons', and after a
+little talk at the door Liza bade the couple good night, and was left
+to walk the rest of the way home. The street was perfectly silent, and
+the lamp-posts, far apart, threw a dim light which only served to make
+Lisa realize her solitude. There was such a difference between the
+street at midday, with its swarms of people, and now, when there was
+neither sound nor soul besides herself, that even she was struck by
+it. The regular line of houses on either side, with the even pavements
+and straight, cemented road, seemed to her like some desert place, as
+if everyone were dead, or a fire had raged and left it all desolate.
+Suddenly she heard a footstep, she started and looked back. It was a
+man hurrying behind her, and in a moment she had recognized Jim. He
+beckoned to her, and in a low voice called:
+
+'Liza!'
+
+She stopped till he had come up to her.
+
+'Wot 'ave yer come aht again for?' she said.
+
+'I've come aht ter say good night to you, Liza,' he answered.
+
+'But yer said good night a moment ago.'
+
+'I wanted to say it again--properly.'
+
+'Where's yer missus?'
+
+'Oh, she's gone in. I said I was dry and was goin' ter 'ave a drink
+after all.'
+
+'But she'll know yer didn't go ter the pub.'
+
+'Na, she won't, she's gone straight upstairs to see after the kid. I
+wanted ter see yer alone, Liza.'
+
+'Why?'
+
+He didn't answer, but tried to take hold of her hand. She drew it away
+quickly. They walked in silence till they came to Liza's house.
+
+'Good night,' said Liza.
+
+'Won't you come for a little walk, Liza?'
+
+'Tike care no one 'ears you,' she added, in a whisper, though why she
+whispered she did not know.
+
+'Will yer?' he asked again.
+
+'Na--you've got to get up at five.'
+
+'Oh, I only said thet not ter go inter the pub with them.'
+
+'So as yer might come 'ere with me?' asked Liza.
+
+'Yus!'
+
+'No, I'm not comin'. Good night.'
+
+'Well, say good night nicely.'
+
+'Wot d'yer mean?'
+
+'Tom said you did kiss nice.'
+
+She looked at him without speaking, and in a moment he had clasped his
+arms round her, almost lifting her off her feet, and kissed her. She
+turned her face away.
+
+'Give us yer lips, Liza,' he whispered--'give us yer lips.'
+
+He turned her face without resistance and kissed her on the mouth.
+
+At last she tore herself from him, and opening the door slid away into
+the house.
+
+
+
+
+6
+
+
+Next morning on her way to the factory Liza came up with Sally. They
+were both of them rather stale and bedraggled after the day's outing;
+their fringes were ragged and untidily straying over their foreheads,
+their back hair, carelessly tied in a loose knot, fell over their
+necks and threatened completely to come down. Liza had not had time to
+put her hat on, and was holding it in her hand. Sally's was pinned on
+sideways, and she had to bash it down on her head every now and then
+to prevent its coming off. Cinderella herself was not more transformed
+than they were; but Cinderella even in her rags was virtuously tidy
+and patched up, while Sally had a great tear in her shabby dress, and
+Liza's stockings were falling over her boots.
+
+'Wot cheer, Sal!' said Liza, when she caught her up.
+
+'Oh, I 'ave got sich a 'ead on me this mornin'!' she remarked, turning
+round a pale face: heavily lined under the eyes.
+
+'I don't feel too chirpy neither,' said Liza, sympathetically.
+
+'I wish I 'adn't drunk so much beer,' added Sally, as a pang shot
+through her head.
+
+'Oh, you'll be arright in a bit,' said Liza. Just then they heard the
+clock strike eight, and they began to run so that they might not miss
+getting their tokens and thereby their day's pay; they turned into the
+street at the end of which was the factory, and saw half a hundred
+women running like themselves to get in before it was too late.
+
+All the morning Liza worked in a dead-and-alive sort of fashion, her
+head like a piece of lead with electric shocks going through it when
+she moved, and her tongue and mouth hot and dry. At last lunch-time
+came.
+
+'Come on, Sal,' said Liza, 'I'm goin' to 'ave a glass o' bitter. I
+can't stand this no longer.'
+
+So they entered the public-house opposite, and in one draught finished
+their pots. Liza gave a long sigh of relief.
+
+'That bucks you up, don't it?'
+
+'I was dry! I ain't told yer yet, Liza, 'ave I? 'E got it aht last
+night.'
+
+'Who d'yer mean?'
+
+'Why, 'Arry. 'E spit it aht at last.'
+
+'Arst yer ter nime the day?' said Liza, smiling.
+
+'Thet's it.'
+
+'And did yer?'
+
+'Didn't I jest!' answered Sally, with some emphasis. 'I always told
+yer I'd git off before you.'
+
+'Yus!' said Liza, thinking.
+
+'Yer know, Liza, you'd better tike Tom; 'e ain't a bad sort.' She was
+quite patronizing.
+
+'I'm goin' ter tike 'oo I like; an' it ain't nobody's business but
+mine.'
+
+'Arright, Liza, don't get shirty over it; I don't mean no offence.'
+
+'What d'yer say it for then?'
+
+'Well, I thought as seeing as yer'd gone aht with 'im yesterday thet
+yer meant ter after all.'
+
+''E wanted ter tike me; I didn't arsk 'im.'
+
+'Well, I didn't arsk my 'Arry, either.'
+
+'I never said yer did,' replied Liza.
+
+'Oh, you've got the 'ump, you 'ave!' finished Sally, rather angrily.
+
+The beer had restored Liza: she went back to work without a headache,
+and, except for a slight languor, feeling no worse for the previous
+day's debauch. As she worked on she began going over in her mind the
+events of the preceding day, and she found entwined in all her
+thoughts the burly person of Jim Blakeston. She saw him walking by her
+side in the Forest, presiding over the meals, playing the concertina,
+singing, joking, and finally, on the drive back, she felt the heavy
+form by her side, and the big, rough hand holding hers, while Tom's
+arm was round her waist. Tom! That was the first time he had entered
+her mind, and he sank into a shadow beside the other. Last of all she
+remembered the walk home from the pub, the good nights, and the rapid
+footsteps as Jim caught her up, and the kiss. She blushed and looked
+up quickly to see whether any of the girls were looking at her; she
+could not help thinking of that moment when he took her in his arms;
+she still felt the roughness of his beard pressing on her mouth. Her
+heart seemed to grow larger in her breast, and she caught for breath
+as she threw back her head as if to receive his lips again. A shudder
+ran through her from the vividness of the thought.
+
+'Wot are you shiverin' for, Liza?' asked one of the girls. 'You ain't
+cold.'
+
+'Not much,' answered Liza, blushing awkwardly on her meditations being
+broken into. 'Why, I'm sweatin' so--I'm drippin' wet.'
+
+'I expect yer caught cold in the Faurest yesterday.'
+
+'I see your mash as I was comin' along this mornin'.'
+
+Liza stared a little.
+
+'I ain't got one, 'oo d'yer mean, ay?'
+
+'Yer only Tom, of course. 'E did look washed aht. Wot was yer doin'
+with 'im yesterday?'
+
+''E ain't got nothin' ter do with me, 'e ain't.'
+
+'Garn, don't you tell me!'
+
+The bell rang, and, throwing over their work, the girls trooped off,
+and after chattering in groups outside the factory gates for a while,
+made their way in different directions to their respective homes. Liza
+and Sally went along together.
+
+'I sy, we are comin' aht!' cried Sally, seeing the advertisement of a
+play being acted at the neighbouring theatre.
+
+'I should like ter see thet!' said Liza, as they stood arm-in-arm in
+front of the flaring poster. It represented two rooms and a passage in
+between; in one room a dead man was lying on the floor, while two
+others were standing horror-stricken, listening to a youth who was in
+the passage, knocking at the door.
+
+'You see, they've 'killed im,' said Sally, excitedly.
+
+'Yus, any fool can see thet! an' the one ahtside, wot's 'e doin' of?'
+
+'Ain't 'e beautiful? I'll git my 'Arry ter tike me, I will. I should
+like ter see it. 'E said 'e'd tike me to the ply.'
+
+They strolled on again, and Liza, leaving Sally, made her way to her
+mother's. She knew she must pass Jim's house, and wondered whether she
+would see him. But as she walked along the street she saw Tom coming
+the opposite way; with a sudden impulse she turned back so as not to
+meet him, and began walking the way she had come. Then thinking
+herself a fool for what she had done, she turned again and walked
+towards him. She wondered if she had seen her or noticed her movement,
+but when she looked down the street he was nowhere to be seen; he had
+not caught sight of her, and had evidently gone in to see a mate in
+one or other of the houses. She quickened her step, and passing the
+house where lived Jim, could not help looking up; he was standing at
+the door watching her, with a smile on his lips.
+
+'I didn't see yer, Mr. Blakeston,' she said, as he came up to her.
+
+'Didn't yer? Well, I knew yer would; an' I was witin' for yer ter look
+up. I see yer before ter-day.'
+
+'Na, when?'
+
+'I passed be'ind yer as you an' thet other girl was lookin' at the
+advertisement of thet ply.'
+
+'I never see yer.'
+
+'Na, I know yer didn't. I 'ear yer say, you says: "I should like to
+see thet."'
+
+'Yus, an' I should too.'
+
+'Well, I'll tike yer.'
+
+'You?'
+
+'Yus; why not?'
+
+'I like thet; wot would yer missus sy?'
+
+'She wouldn't know.'
+
+'But the neighbours would!'
+
+'No they wouldn't, no one 'd see us.'
+
+He was speaking in a low voice so that people could not hear.
+
+'You could meet me ahtside the theatre,' he went on.
+
+'Na, I couldn't go with you; you're a married man.'
+
+'Garn! wot's the matter--jest ter go ter the ply? An' besides, my
+missus can't come if she wanted, she's got the kids ter look after.'
+
+'I should like ter see it,' said Liza meditatively.
+
+They had reached her house, and Jim said:
+
+'Well, come aht this evenin' and tell me if yer will--eh, Liza?'
+
+'Na, I'm not comin' aht this evening.'
+
+'Thet won't 'urt yer. I shall wite for yer.'
+
+''Tain't a bit of good your witing', 'cause I shan't come.'
+
+'Well, then, look 'ere, Liza; next Saturday night's the last night,
+an' I shall go to the theatre, any'ow. An' if you'll come, you just
+come to the door at 'alf-past six, an' you'll find me there. See?'
+
+'Na, I don't,' said Liza, firmly.
+
+'Well, I shall expect yer.'
+
+'I shan't come, so you needn't expect.' And with that she walked into
+the house and slammed the door behind her.
+
+Her mother had not come in from her day's charing, and Liza set about
+getting her tea. She thought it would be rather lonely eating it
+alone, so pouring out a cup of tea and putting a little condensed milk
+into it, she cut a huge piece of bread-and-butter, and sat herself
+down outside on the doorstep. Another woman came downstairs, and
+seeing Liza, sat down by her side and began to talk.
+
+'Why, Mrs. Stanley, wot 'ave yer done to your 'ead?' asked Liza,
+noticing a bandage round her forehead.
+
+'I 'ad an accident last night,' answered the woman, blushing uneasily.
+
+'Oh, I am sorry! Wot did yer do to yerself?'
+
+'I fell against the coal-scuttle and cut my 'ead open.'
+
+'Well, I never!'
+
+'To tell yer the truth, I 'ad a few words with my old man. But one
+doesn't like them things to get abaht; yer won't tell anyone, will
+yer?'
+
+'Not me!' answered Liza. 'I didn't know yer husband was like thet.'
+
+'Oh, 'e's as gentle as a lamb when 'e's sober,' said Mrs. Stanley,
+apologetically. 'But, Lor' bless yer, when 'e's 'ad a drop too much
+'e's a demond, an' there's no two ways abaht it.'
+
+'An' you ain't been married long neither?' said Liza.
+
+'Na, not above eighteen months; ain't it disgriceful? Thet's wot the
+doctor at the 'orspital says ter me. I 'ad ter go ter the 'orspital.
+You should have seen 'ow it bled!--it bled all dahn' my fice, and went
+streamin' like a bust waterpipe. Well, it fair frightened my old man,
+an' I says ter 'im, "I'll charge yer," an' although I was bleedin'
+like a bloomin' pig I shook my fist at 'im, an' I says, "I'll charge
+ye--see if I don't!" An' 'e says, "Na," says 'e, "don't do thet, for
+God's sike, Kitie, I'll git three months." "An' serve yer damn well
+right!" says I, an' I went aht an' left 'im. But, Lor' bless yer, I
+wouldn't charge 'im! I know 'e don't mean it; 'e's as gentle as a lamb
+when 'e's sober.' She smiled quite affectionately as she said this.
+
+'Wot did yer do, then?' asked Liza.
+
+'Well, as I wos tellin' yer, I went to the 'orspital, an' the doctor
+'e says to me, "My good woman," says 'e, "you might have been very
+seriously injured." An' me not been married eighteen months! An' as I
+was tellin' the doctor all about it, "Missus," 'e says ter me, lookin'
+at me straight in the eyeball. "Missus," says 'e, "'ave you been
+drinkin'?" "Drinkin'?" says I; "no! I've 'ad a little drop, but as for
+drinkin'! Mind," says I, "I don't say I'm a teetotaller--I'm not, I
+'ave my glass of beer, and I like it. I couldn't do withaht it, wot
+with the work I 'ave, I must 'ave somethin' ter keep me tergether. But
+as for drinkin' 'eavily! Well! I can say this, there ain't a soberer
+woman than myself in all London. Why, my first 'usband never touched a
+drop. Ah, my first 'usband, 'e was a beauty, 'e was."'
+
+She stopped the repetition of her conversation and addressed herself
+to Liza.
+
+''E was thet different ter this one. 'E was a man as 'ad seen better
+days. 'E was a gentleman!' She mouthed the word and emphasized it with
+an expressive nod.
+
+''E was a gentleman and a Christian. 'E'd been in good circumstances
+in 'is time; an' 'e was a man of education and a teetotaller, for
+twenty-two years.'
+
+At that moment Liza's mother appeared on the scene.
+
+'Good evenin', Mrs. Stanley,' she said, politely.
+
+'The sime ter you, Mrs. Kemp.' replied that lady, with equal courtesy.
+
+'An' 'ow is your poor 'ead?' asked Liza's mother, with sympathy.
+
+'Oh, it's been achin' cruel. I've hardly known wot ter do with
+myself.'
+
+'I'm sure 'e ought ter be ashimed of 'imself for treatin' yer like
+thet.'
+
+'Oh, it wasn't 'is blows I minded so much, Mrs. Kemp,' replied Mrs.
+Stanley, 'an' don't you think it. It was wot 'e said ter me. I can
+stand a blow as well as any woman. I don't mind thet, an' when 'e
+don't tike a mean advantage of me I can stand up for myself an' give
+as good as I tike; an' many's the time I give my fust husband a black
+eye. But the language 'e used, an' the things 'e called me! It made me
+blush to the roots of my 'air; I'm not used ter bein' spoken ter like
+thet. I was in good circumstances when my fust 'usband was alive, 'e
+earned between two an' three pound a week, 'e did. As I said to 'im
+this mornin', "'Ow a gentleman can use sich language, I dunno."'
+
+''Usbands is cautions, 'owever good they are,' said Mrs. Kemp,
+aphoristically. 'But I mustn't stay aht 'ere in the night air.'
+
+''As yer rheumatism been troublin' yer litely?' asked Mrs. Stanley.
+
+'Oh, cruel. Liza rubs me with embrocation every night, but it torments
+me cruel.'
+
+Mrs. Kemp then went into the house, and Liza remained talking to Mrs.
+Stanley, she, too, had to go in, and Liza was left alone. Some while
+she spent thinking of nothing, staring vacantly in front of her,
+enjoying the cool and quiet of the evening. But Liza could not be left
+alone long, several boys came along with a bat and a ball, and fixed
+upon the road just in front of her for their pitch. Taking off their
+coats they piled them up at the two ends, and were ready to begin.
+
+'I say, old gal,' said one of them to Liza, 'come an' have a gime of
+cricket, will yer?'
+
+'Na, Bob, I'm tired.'
+
+'Come on!'
+
+'Na, I tell you I won't.'
+
+'She was on the booze yesterday, an' she ain't got over it,' cried
+another boy.
+
+'I'll swipe yer over the snitch!' replied Liza to him, and then on
+being asked again, said:
+
+'Leave me alone, won't yer?'
+
+'Liza's got the needle ter-night, thet's flat,' commented a third
+member of the team.
+
+'I wouldn't drink if I was you, Liza,' added another, with mock
+gravity. 'It's a bad 'abit ter git into,' and he began rolling and
+swaying about like a drunken man.
+
+If Liza had been 'in form' she would have gone straight away and given
+the whole lot of them a sample of her strength; but she was only
+rather bored and vexed that they should disturb her quietness, so she
+let them talk. They saw she was not to be drawn, and leaving her, set
+to their game. She watched them for some time, but her thoughts
+gradually lost themselves, and insensibly her mind was filled with a
+burly form, and she was again thinking of Jim.
+
+''E is a good sort ter want ter tike me ter the ply,' she said to
+herself. 'Tom never arst me!'
+
+Jim had said he would come out in the evening; he ought to be here
+soon, she thought. Of course she wasn't going to the theatre with him,
+but she didn't mind talking to him; she rather enjoyed being asked to
+do a thing and refusing, and she would have liked another opportunity
+of doing so. But he didn't come and he had said he would!
+
+'I say, Bill,' she said at last to one of the boys who was fielding
+close beside her, 'that there Blakeston--d'you know 'im?'
+
+'Yes, rather; why, he works at the sime plice as me.'
+
+'Wot's 'e do with 'isself in the evening; I never see 'im abaht?'
+
+'I dunno. I see 'im this evenin' go into the "Red Lion". I suppose
+'e's there, but I dunno.'
+
+Then he wasn't coming. Of course she had told him she was going to
+stay indoors, but he might have come all the same--just to see.
+
+'I know Tom 'ud 'ave come,' she said to herself, rather sulkily.
+
+'Liza! Liza!' she heard her mother's voice calling her.
+
+'Arright, I'm comin',' said Liza.
+
+'I've been witin' for you this last 'alf-hour ter rub me.'
+
+'Why didn't yer call?' asked Liza.
+
+'I did call. I've been callin' this last I dunno 'ow long; it's give
+me quite a sore throat.'
+
+'I never 'eard yer.'
+
+'Na, yer didn't want ter 'ear me, did yer? Yer don't mind if I dies
+with rheumatics, do yer? I know.'
+
+Liza did not answer, but took the bottle, and, pouring some of the
+liniment on her hand, began to rub it into Mrs. Kemp's rheumatic
+joints, while the invalid kept complaining and grumbling at everything
+Liza did.
+
+'Don't rub so 'ard, Liza, you'll rub all the skin off.'
+
+Then when Liza did it as gently as she could, she grumbled again.
+
+'If yer do it like thet, it won't do no good at all. You want ter sive
+yerself trouble--I know yer. When I was young girls didn't mind a
+little bit of 'ard work--but, law bless yer, you don't care abaht my
+rheumatics, do yer?'
+
+At last she finished, and Liza went to bed by her mother's side.
+
+
+
+
+7
+
+
+Two days passed, and it was Friday morning. Liza had got up early and
+strolled off to her work in good time, but she did not meet her
+faithful Sally on the way, nor find her at the factory when she
+herself arrived. The bell rang and all the girls trooped in, but still
+Sally did not come. Liza could not make it out, and was thinking she
+would be shut out, when just as the man who gave out the tokens for
+the day's work was pulling down the shutter in front of his window,
+Sally arrived, breathless and perspiring.
+
+'Whew! Go' lumme, I am 'ot!' she said, wiping her face with her apron.
+
+'I thought you wasn't comin',' said Liza.
+
+'Well, I only just did it; I overslep' myself. I was aht lite last
+night.'
+
+'Were yer?'
+
+'Me an' 'Arry went ter see the ply. Oh, Liza, it's simply spiffin'!
+I've never see sich a good ply in my life. Lor'! Why, it mikes yer
+blood run cold: they 'ang a man on the stige; oh, it mide me creep all
+over!'
+
+And then she began telling Liza all about it--the blood and thunder,
+the shooting, the railway train, the murder, the bomb, the hero, the
+funny man--jumbling everything up in her excitement, repeating little
+scraps of dialogue--all wrong--gesticulating, getting excited and red
+in the face at the recollection. Liza listened rather crossly, feeling
+bored at the detail into which Sally was going: the piece really
+didn't much interest her.
+
+'One 'ud think yer'd never been to a theatre in your life before,' she
+said.
+
+'I never seen anything so good, I can tell yer. You tike my tip, and
+git Tom ter tike yer.'
+
+'I don't want ter go; an' if I did I'd py for myself an' go alone.'
+
+'Cheese it! That ain't 'alf so good. Me an' 'Arry, we set together,
+'im with 'is arm round my wiste and me oldin' 'is 'and. It was jam, I
+can tell yer!'
+
+'Well, I don't want anyone sprawlin' me abaht, thet ain't my mark!'
+
+'But I do like 'Arry; you dunno the little ways 'e 'as; an' we're
+goin' ter be married in three weeks now. 'Arry said, well, 'e says,
+"I'll git a licence." "Na," says I, "'ave the banns read aht in
+church: it seems more reg'lar like to 'ave banns; so they're goin' ter
+be read aht next Sunday. You'll come with me 'an 'ear them, won't yer,
+Liza?"'
+
+'Yus, I don't mind.'
+
+On the way home Sally insisted on stopping in front of the poster and
+explaining to Liza all about the scene represented.
+
+'Oh, you give me the sick with your "Fital Card", you do! I'm goin'
+'ome.' And she left Sally in the midst of her explanation.
+
+'I dunno wot's up with Liza,' remarked Sally to a mutual friend.
+'She's always got the needle, some'ow.'
+
+'Oh, she's barmy,' answered the friend.
+
+'Well, I do think she's a bit dotty sometimes--I do really,' rejoined
+Sally.
+
+Liza walked homewards, thinking of the play; at length she tossed her
+head impatiently.
+
+'I don't want ter see the blasted thing; an' if I see that there Jim
+I'll tell 'im so; swop me bob, I will.'
+
+She did see him; he was leaning with his back against the wall of his
+house, smoking. Liza knew he had seen her, and as she walked by
+pretended not to have noticed him. To her disgust, he let her pass,
+and she was thinking he hadn't seen her after all, when she heard him
+call her name.
+
+'Liza!'
+
+She turned round and started with surprise very well imitated. 'I
+didn't see you was there!' she said.
+
+'Why did yer pretend not ter notice me, as yer went past--eh, Liza?'
+
+'Why, I didn't see yer.'
+
+'Garn! But you ain't shirty with me?'
+
+'Wot 'ave I got to be shirty abaht?'
+
+He tried to take her hand, but she drew it away quickly. She was
+getting used to the movement. They went on talking, but Jim did not
+mention the theatre; Liza was surprised, and wondered whether he had
+forgotten.
+
+'Er--Sally went to the ply last night,' she said, at last.
+
+'Oh!' he said, and that was all.
+
+She got impatient.
+
+'Well, I'm off!' she said.
+
+'Na, don't go yet; I want ter talk ter yer,' he replied.
+
+'Wot abaht? anythin' in partickler?' She would drag it out of him if
+she possibly could.
+
+'Not thet I knows on,' he said, smiling.
+
+'Good night!' she said, abruptly, turning away from him.
+
+'Well, I'm damned if 'e ain't forgotten!' she said to herself,
+sulkily, as she marched home.
+
+The following evening about six o'clock, it suddenly struck her that
+it was the last night of the 'New and Sensational Drama'.
+
+'I do like thet Jim Blakeston,' she said to herself; 'fancy treatin'
+me like thet! You wouldn't catch Tom doin' sich a thing. Bli'me if I
+speak to 'im again, the ----. Now I shan't see it at all. I've a good
+mind ter go on my own 'ook. Fancy 'is forgettin' all abaht it, like
+thet!'
+
+She was really quite indignant; though, as she had distinctly refused
+Jim's offer, it was rather hard to see why.
+
+''E said 'e'd wite for me ahtside the doors; I wonder if 'e's there.
+I'll go an' see if 'e is, see if I don't--an' then if 'e's there, I'll
+go in on my own 'ook, jist ter spite 'im!'
+
+She dressed herself in her best, and, so that the neighbours shouldn't
+see her, went up a passage between some model lodging-house buildings,
+and in this roundabout way got into the Westminster Bridge Road, and
+soon found herself in front of the theatre.
+
+'I've been witin' for yer this 'alf-hour.'
+
+She turned round and saw Jim standing just behind her.
+
+''Oo are you talkin' to? I'm not goin' to the ply with you. Wot d'yer
+tike me for, eh?'
+
+''Oo are yer goin' with, then?'
+
+'I'm goin' alone.'
+
+'Garn! don't be a bloomin' jackass!'
+
+Liza was feeling very injured.
+
+'Thet's 'ow you treat me! I shall go 'ome. Why didn't you come aht the
+other night?'
+
+'Yer told me not ter.'
+
+She snorted at the ridiculous ineptitude of the reply.
+
+'Why didn't you say nothin' abaht it yesterday?'
+
+'Why, I thought you'd come if I didn't talk on it.'
+
+'Well, I think you're a ---- brute!' She felt very much inclined to
+cry.
+
+'Come on, Liza, don't tike on; I didn't mean no offence.' And he put
+his arm round her waist and led her to take their places at the
+gallery door. Two tears escaped from the corners of her eyes and ran
+down her nose, but she felt very relieved and happy, and let him lead
+her where he would.
+
+There was a long string of people waiting at the door, and Liza was
+delighted to see a couple of niggers who were helping them to while
+away the time of waiting. The niggers sang and danced, and made faces,
+while the people looked on with appreciative gravity, like royalty
+listening to de Reské, and they were very generous of applause and
+halfpence at the end of the performance. Then, when the niggers moved
+to the pit doors, paper boys came along offering _Tit-Bits_ and 'extra
+specials'; after that three little girls came round and sang
+sentimental songs and collected more halfpence. At last a movement ran
+through the serpent-like string of people, sounds were heard behind
+the door, everyone closed up, the men told the women to keep close and
+hold tight; there was a great unbarring and unbolting, the doors were
+thrown open, and, like a bursting river, the people surged in.
+
+Half an hour more and the curtain went up. The play was indeed
+thrilling. Liza quite forgot her companion, and was intent on the
+scene; she watched the incidents breathlessly, trembling with
+excitement, almost beside herself at the celebrated hanging incident.
+When the curtain fell on the first act she sighed and mopped her face.
+
+'See 'ow 'ot I am.' she said to Jim, giving him her hand.
+
+'Yus, you are!' he remarked, taking it.
+
+'Leave go!' she said, trying to withdraw it from him.
+
+'Not much,' he answered, quite boldly.
+
+'Garn! Leave go!' But he didn't, and she really did not struggle very
+violently.
+
+The second act came, and she shrieked over the comic man; and her
+laughter rang higher than anyone else's, so that people turned to look
+at her, and said:
+
+'She is enjoyin' 'erself.'
+
+Then when the murder came she bit her nails and the sweat stood on her
+forehead in great drops; in her excitement she even called out as loud
+as she could to the victim, 'Look aht!' It caused a laugh and
+slackened the tension, for the whole house was holding its breath as
+it looked at the villains listening at the door, creeping silently
+forward, crawling like tigers to their prey.
+
+Liza trembling all over, and in her terror threw herself against Jim,
+who put both his arms round her, and said:
+
+'Don't be afride, Liza; it's all right.'
+
+At last the men sprang, there was a scuffle, and the wretch was
+killed, then came the scene depicted on the posters--the victim's son
+knocking at the door, on the inside of which were the murderers and
+the murdered man. At last the curtain came down, and the house in
+relief burst forth into cheers and cheers; the handsome hero in his
+top hat was greeted thunderously; the murdered man, with his clothes
+still all disarranged, was hailed with sympathy; and the villains--the
+house yelled and hissed and booed, while the poor brutes bowed and
+tried to look as if they liked it.
+
+'I am enjoyin' myself,' said Liza, pressing herself quite close to
+Jim; 'you are a good sort ter tike me--Jim.'
+
+He gave her a little hug, and it struck her that she was sitting just
+as Sally had done, and, like Sally, she found it 'jam'.
+
+The _entr'actes_ were short and the curtain was soon up again, and the
+comic man raised customary laughter by undressing and exposing his
+nether garments to the public view; then more tragedy, and the final
+act with its darkened room, its casting lots, and its explosion.
+
+When it was all over and they had got outside Jim smacked his lips and
+said:
+
+'I could do with a gargle; let's go onto thet pub there.'
+
+'I'm as dry as bone,' said Liza; and so they went.
+
+When they got in they discovered they were hungry, and seeing some
+appetising sausage-rolls, ate of them, and washed them down with a
+couple of pots of beer; then Jim lit his pipe and they strolled off.
+They had got quite near the Westminster Bridge Road when Jim suggested
+that they should go and have one more drink before closing time.
+
+'I shall be tight,' said Liza.
+
+'Thet don't matter,' answered Jim, laughing. 'You ain't got ter go ter
+work in the mornin' an' you can sleep it aht.'
+
+'Arright, I don't mind if I do then, in for a penny, in for a pound.'
+
+At the pub door she drew back.
+
+'I say, guv'ner,' she said, 'there'll be some of the coves from dahn
+our street, and they'll see us.'
+
+'Na, there won't be nobody there, don't yer 'ave no fear.'
+
+'I don't like ter go in for fear of it.'
+
+'Well, we ain't doin' no 'arm if they does see us, an' we can go into
+the private bar, an' you bet your boots there won't be no one there.'
+
+She yielded, and they went in.
+
+'Two pints of bitter, please, miss,' ordered Jim.
+
+'I say, 'old 'ard. I can't drink more than 'alf a pint,' said Liza.
+
+'Cheese it,' answered Jim. 'You can do with all you can get, I know.'
+
+At closing time they left and walked down the broad road which led
+homewards.
+
+'Let's 'ave a little sit dahn,' said Jim, pointing to an empty bench
+between two trees.
+
+'Na, it's gettin' lite; I want ter be 'ome.'
+
+'It's such a fine night, it's a pity ter go in already;' and he drew
+her unresisting towards the seat. He put his arm round her waist.
+
+'Un'and me, villin!' she said, in apt misquotation of the melodrama,
+but Jim only laughed, and she made no effort to disengage herself.
+
+They sat there for a long while in silence; the beer had got to Liza's
+head, and the warm night air filled her with a double intoxication.
+She felt the arm round her waist, and the big, heavy form pressing
+against her side; she experienced again the curious sensation as if
+her heart were about to burst, and it choked her--a feeling so
+oppressive and painful it almost made her feel sick. Her hands began
+to tremble, and her breathing grew rapid, as though she were
+suffocating. Almost fainting, she swayed over towards the man, and a
+cold shiver ran through her from top to toe. Jim bent over her, and,
+taking her in both arms, he pressed his lips to hers in a long,
+passionate kiss. At last, panting for breath, she turned her head away
+and groaned.
+
+Then they again sat for a long while in silence, Liza full of a
+strange happiness, feeling as if she could laugh aloud hysterically,
+but restrained by the calm and silence of the night. Close behind
+struck a church clock--one.
+
+'Bless my soul!' said Liza, starting, 'there's one o'clock. I must get
+'ome.'
+
+'It's so nice out 'ere; do sty, Liza.' He pressed her closer to him.
+'Yer know, Liza, I love yer--fit ter kill.'
+
+'Na, I can't stay; come on.' She got up from the seat, and pulled him
+up too. 'Come on,' she said.
+
+Without speaking they went along, and there was no one to be seen
+either in front or behind them. He had not got his arm round her now,
+and they were walking side by side, slightly separated. It was Liza
+who spoke first.
+
+'You'd better go dahn the Road and by the church an' git into Vere
+Street the other end, an' I'll go through the passage, so thet no one
+shouldn't see us comin' together,' she spoke almost in a whisper.
+
+'Arright, Liza,' he answered, 'I'll do just as you tell me.'
+
+They came to the passage of which Liza spoke; it was a narrow way
+between blank walls, the backs of factories, and it led into the upper
+end of Vere Street. The entrance to it was guarded by two iron posts
+in the middle so that horses or barrows should not be taken through.
+
+They had just got to it when a man came out into the open road. Liza
+quickly turned her head away.
+
+'I wonder if 'e see us,' she said, when he had passed out of earshot.
+''E's lookin' back,' she added.
+
+'Why, 'oo is it?' asked Jim.
+
+'It's a man aht of our street,' she answered. 'I dunno 'im, but I know
+where 'e lodges. D'yer think 'e sees us?'
+
+'Na, 'e wouldn't know 'oo it was in the dark.'
+
+'But he looked round; all the street'll know it if he see us.'
+
+'Well, we ain't doin' no 'arm.'
+
+She stretched out her hand to say good night.
+
+'I'll come a wy with yer along the passage,' said Jim.
+
+'Na, you mustn't; you go straight round.'
+
+'But it's so dark; p'raps summat'll 'appen to yer.'
+
+'Not it! You go on 'ome an' leave me,' she replied, and entering the
+passage, stood facing him with one of the iron pillars between them.
+
+'Good night, old cock,' she said, stretching out her hand. He took it,
+and said:
+
+'I wish yer wasn't goin' ter leave me, Liza.'
+
+'Garn! I must!' She tried to get her hand away from his, but he held
+it firm, resting it on the top of the pillar.
+
+'Leave go my 'and,' she said. He made no movement, but looked into her
+eyes steadily, so that it made her uneasy. She repented having come
+out with him. 'Leave go my 'and.' And she beat down on his with her
+closed fist.
+
+'Liza!' he said, at last.
+
+'Well, wot is it?' she answered, still thumping down on his hand with
+her fist.
+
+'Liza,' he said a whisper, 'will yer?'
+
+'Will I wot?' she said, looking down.
+
+'You know, Liza. Sy, will yer?'
+
+'Na,' she said.
+
+He bent over her and repeated--
+
+'Will yer?'
+
+She did not speak, but kept beating down on his hand.
+
+'Liza,' he said again, his voice growing hoarse and thick--'Liza, will
+yer?'
+
+She still kept silence, looking away and continually bringing down her
+fist. He looked at her a moment, and she, ceasing to thump his hand,
+looked up at him with half-opened mouth. Suddenly he shook himself,
+and closing his fist gave her a violent, swinging blow in the belly.
+
+'Come on.' he said.
+
+And together they slid down into the darkness of the passage.
+
+
+
+
+8
+
+
+Mrs. Kemp was in the habit of slumbering somewhat heavily on Sunday
+mornings, or Liza would not have been allowed to go on sleeping as she
+did. When she woke, she rubbed her eyes to gather her senses together
+and gradually she remembered having gone to the theatre on the
+previous evening; then suddenly everything came back to her. She
+stretched out her legs and gave a long sigh of delight. Her heart was
+full; she thought of Jim, and the delicious sensation of love came
+over her. Closing her eyes, she imagined his warm kisses, and she
+lifted up her arms as if to put them round his neck and draw him down
+to her; she almost felt the rough beard on her face, and the strong
+heavy arms round her body. She smiled to herself and took a long
+breath; then, slipping back the sleeves of her nightdress, she looked
+at her own thin arms, just two pieces of bone with not a muscle on
+them, but very white and showing distinctly the interlacement of blue
+veins: she did not notice that her hands were rough, and red and dirty
+with the nails broken, and bitten to the quick. She got out of bed and
+looked at herself in the glass over the mantelpiece: with one hand she
+brushed back her hair and smiled at herself; her face was very small
+and thin, but the complexion was nice, clear and white, with a
+delicate tint of red on the cheeks, and her eyes were big and dark
+like her hair. She felt very happy.
+
+She did not want to dress yet, but rather to sit down and think, so
+she twisted up her hair into a little knot, slipped a skirt over her
+nightdress, and sat on a chair near the window and began looking
+around. The decorations of the room had been centred on the
+mantelpiece; the chief ornament consisted of a pear and an apple, a
+pineapple, a bunch of grapes, and several fat plums, all very
+beautifully done in wax, as was the fashion about the middle of this
+most glorious reign. They were appropriately coloured--the apple
+blushing red, the grapes an inky black, emerald green leaves were
+scattered here and there to lend finish, and the whole was mounted on
+an ebonised stand covered with black velvet, and protected from dust
+and dirt by a beautiful glass cover bordered with red plush. Liza's
+eyes rested on this with approbation, and the pineapple quite made her
+mouth water. At either end of the mantelpiece were pink jars with blue
+flowers on the front; round the top in Gothic letters of gold was
+inscribed: 'A Present from a Friend'--these were products of a later,
+but not less artistic age. The intervening spaces were taken up with
+little jars and cups and saucers--gold inside, with a view of a town
+outside, and surrounding them, 'A Present from Clacton-on-Sea,' or,
+alliteratively, 'A Memento of Margate.' Of these many were broken, but
+they had been mended with glue, and it is well known that pottery in
+the eyes of the connoisseur loses none of its value by a crack or two.
+Then there were portraits innumerable--little yellow cartes-de-visite
+in velvet frames, some of which were decorated with shells; they
+showed strange people with old-fashioned clothes, the women with
+bodices and sleeves fitting close to the figure, stern-featured
+females with hair carefully parted in the middle and plastered down on
+each side, firm chins and mouths, with small, pig-like eyes and
+wrinkled faces, and the men were uncomfortably clad in Sunday
+garments, very stiff and uneasy in their awkward postures, with large
+whiskers and shaved chins and upper lips and a general air of
+horny-handed toil. Then there were one or two daguerreotypes, little
+full-length figures framed in gold paper. There was one of Mrs. Kemp's
+father and one of her mother, and there were several photographs of
+betrothed or newly-married couples, the lady sitting down and the man
+standing behind her with his hand on the chair, or the man sitting and
+the woman with her hand on his shoulder. And from all sides of the
+room, standing on the mantelpiece, hanging above it, on the wall and
+over the bed, they stared full-face into the room, self-consciously
+fixed for ever in their stiff discomfort.
+
+The walls were covered with dingy, antiquated paper, and ornamented
+with coloured supplements from Christmas Numbers--there was a very
+patriotic picture of a soldier shaking the hand of a fallen comrade
+and waving his arm in defiance of a band of advancing Arabs; there was
+a 'Cherry Ripe,' almost black with age and dirt; there were two
+almanacks several years old, one with a coloured portrait of the
+Marquess of Lorne, very handsome and elegantly dressed, the object of
+Mrs. Kemp's adoration since her husband's demise; the other a Jubilee
+portrait of the Queen, somewhat losing in dignity by a moustache which
+Liza in an irreverent moment had smeared on with charcoal.
+
+The furniture consisted of a wash-hand stand and a little deal chest
+of drawers, which acted as sideboard to such pots and pans and
+crockery as could not find room in the grate; and besides the bed
+there was nothing but two kitchen chairs and a lamp. Liza looked at it
+all and felt perfectly satisfied; she put a pin into one corner of the
+noble Marquess to prevent him from falling, fiddled about with the
+ornaments a little, and then started washing herself. After putting on
+her clothes she ate some bread-and-butter, swallowed a dishful of cold
+tea, and went out into the street.
+
+She saw some boys playing cricket and went up to them.
+
+'Let me ply,' she said.
+
+'Arright, Liza,' cried half a dozen of them in delight; and the
+captain added: 'You go an' scout over by the lamp-post.'
+
+'Go an' scout my eye!' said Liza, indignantly. 'When I ply cricket I
+does the battin'.'
+
+'Na, you're not goin' ter bat all the time. 'Oo are you gettin' at?'
+replied the captain, who had taken advantage of his position to put
+himself in first, and was still at the wicket.
+
+'Well, then I shan't ply,' answered Liza.
+
+'Garn, Ernie, let 'er go in!' shouted two or three members of the
+team.
+
+'Well, I'm busted!' remarked the captain, as she took his bat. 'You
+won't sty in long, I lay,' he said, as he sent the old bowler fielding
+and took the ball himself. He was a young gentleman who did not suffer
+from excessive backwardness.
+
+'Aht!' shouted a dozen voices as the ball went past Liza's bat and
+landed in the pile of coats which formed the wicket. The captain came
+forward to resume his innings, but Liza held the bat away from him.
+
+'Garn!' she said; 'thet was only a trial.'
+
+'You never said trial,' answered the captain indignantly.
+
+'Yus, I did,' said Liza; 'I said it just as the ball was comin'--under
+my breath.'
+
+'Well, I am busted!' repeated the captain.
+
+Just then Liza saw Tom among the lookers-on, and as she felt very
+kindly disposed to the world in general that morning, she called out
+to him:
+
+''Ulloa, Tom!' she said. 'Come an' give us a ball; this chap can't
+bowl.'
+
+'Well, I got yer aht, any'ow,' said that person.
+
+'Ah, yer wouldn't 'ave got me aht plyin' square. But a trial
+ball--well, one don't ever know wot a trial ball's goin' ter do.'
+
+Tom began bowling very slowly and easily, so that Liza could swing her
+bat round and hit mightily; she ran well, too, and pantingly brought
+up her score to twenty. Then the fielders interposed.
+
+'I sy, look 'ere, 'e's only givin' 'er lobs; 'e's not tryin' ter git
+'er aht.'
+
+'You're spoilin' our gime.'
+
+'I don't care; I've got twenty runs--thet's more than you could do.
+I'll go aht now of my own accord, so there! Come on, Tom.'
+
+Tom joined her, and as the captain at last resumed his bat and the
+game went on, they commenced talking, Liza leaning against the wall of
+a house, while Tom stood in front of her, smiling with pleasure.
+
+'Where 'ave you been idin' yerself, Tom? I ain't seen yer for I dunno
+'ow long.'
+
+'I've been abaht as usual; an' I've seen you when you didn't see me.'
+
+'Well, yer might 'ave come up and said good mornin' when you see me.'
+
+'I didn't want ter force myself on, yer, Liza.'
+
+'Garn! You are a bloomin' cuckoo. I'm blowed!'
+
+'I thought yer didn't like me 'angin' round yer; so I kep' awy.'
+
+'Why, yer talks as if I didn't like yer. Yer don't think I'd 'ave come
+aht beanfeastin' with yer if I 'adn't liked yer?'
+
+Liza was really very dishonest, but she felt so happy this morning
+that she loved the whole world, and of course Tom came in with the
+others. She looked very kindly at him, and he was so affected that a
+great lump came in his throat and he could not speak.
+
+Liza's eyes turned to Jim's house, and she saw coming out of the door
+a girl of about her own age; she fancied she saw in her some likeness
+to Jim.
+
+'Say, Tom,' she asked, 'thet ain't Blakeston's daughter, is it?'
+
+'Yus thet's it.'
+
+'I'll go an' speak to 'er,' said Liza, leaving Tom and going over the
+road.
+
+'You're Polly Blakeston, ain't yer?' she said.
+
+'Thet's me!' said the girl.
+
+'I thought you was. Your dad, 'e says ter me, "You dunno my daughter,
+Polly, do yer?" says 'e. "Na," says I, "I don't." "Well," says 'e,
+"You can't miss 'er when you see 'er." An' right enough I didn't.'
+
+'Mother says I'm all father, an' there ain't nothin' of 'er in me. Dad
+says it's lucky it ain't the other wy abaht, or e'd 'ave got a
+divorce.'
+
+They both laughed.
+
+'Where are you goin' now?' asked Liza, looking at the slop-basin she
+was carrying.
+
+'I was just goin' dahn into the road ter get some ice-cream for
+dinner. Father 'ad a bit of luck last night, 'e says, and 'e'd stand
+the lot of us ice-cream for dinner ter-day.'
+
+'I'll come with yer if yer like.'
+
+'Come on!' And, already friends, they walked arm-in-arm to the
+Westminster Bridge Road. Then they went along till they came to a
+stall where an Italian was selling the required commodity, and having
+had a taste apiece to see if they liked it, Polly planked down
+sixpence and had her basin filled with a poisonous-looking mixture of
+red and white ice-cream.
+
+On the way back, looking up the street, Polly cried:
+
+'There's father!'
+
+Liza's heart beat rapidly and she turned red; but suddenly a sense of
+shame came over her, and casting down her head so that she might not
+see him, she said:
+
+'I think I'll be off 'ome an' see 'ow mother's gettin' on.' And before
+Polly could say anything she had slipped away and entered her own
+house.
+
+Mother was not getting on at all well.
+
+'You've come in at last, you ----, you!' snarled Mrs. Kemp, as Liza
+entered the room.
+
+'Wot's the matter, mother?'
+
+'Matter! I like thet--matter indeed! Go an' matter yerself an' be
+mattered! Nice way ter treat an old woman like me--an' yer own mother,
+too!'
+
+'Wot's up now?'
+
+'Don't talk ter me; I don't want ter listen ter you. Leavin' me all
+alone, me with my rheumatics, an' the neuralgy! I've 'ad the neuralgy
+all the mornin', and my 'ead's been simply splittin', so thet I
+thought the bones 'ud come apart and all my brains go streamin' on the
+floor. An' when I wake up there's no one ter git my tea for me, an' I
+lay there witin' an' witin', an' at last I 'ad ter git up and mike it
+myself. And, my 'ead simply cruel! Why, I might 'ave been burnt ter
+death with the fire alight an' me asleep.'
+
+'Well, I am sorry, mother; but I went aht just for a bit, an' didn't
+think you'd wike. An' besides, the fire wasn't alight.'
+
+'Garn with yer! I didn't treat my mother like thet. Oh, you've been a
+bad daughter ter me--an' I 'ad more illness carryin' you than with all
+the other children put togither. You was a cross at yer birth, an'
+you've been a cross ever since. An' now in my old age, when I've
+worked myself ter the bone, yer leaves me to starve and burn to
+death.' Here she began to cry, and the rest of her utterances was lost
+in sobs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The dusk had darkened into night, and Mrs. Kemp had retired to rest
+with the dicky-birds. Liza was thinking of many things; she wondered
+why she had been unwilling to meet Jim in the morning.
+
+'I was a bally fool,' she said to herself.
+
+It really seemed an age since the previous night, and all that had
+happened seemed very long ago. She had not spoken to Jim all day, and
+she had so much to say to him. Then, wondering whether he was about,
+she went to the window and looked out; but there was nobody there. She
+closed the window again and sat just beside it; the time went on, and
+she wondered whether he would come, asking herself whether he had been
+thinking of her as she of him; gradually her thoughts grew vague, and
+a kind of mist came over them. She nodded. Suddenly she roused
+herself with a start, fancying she had heard something; she listened
+again, and in a moment the sound was repeated, three or four gentle
+taps on the window. She opened it quickly and whispered:
+
+'Jim.'
+
+'Thet's me,' he answered, 'come aht.'
+
+Closing the window, she went into the passage and opened the street
+door; it was hardly unlocked before Jim had pushed his way in; partly
+shutting it behind him, he took her in his arms and hugged her to his
+breast. She kissed him passionately.
+
+'I thought yer'd come ter-night, Jim; summat in my 'eart told me so.
+But you 'ave been long.'
+
+'I wouldn't come before, 'cause I thought there'd be people abaht.
+Kiss us!' And again he pressed his lips to hers, and Liza nearly
+fainted with the delight of it.
+
+'Let's go for a walk, shall we?' he said.
+
+'Arright!' They were speaking in whispers. 'You go into the road
+through the passage, an' I'll go by the street.'
+
+'Yus, thet's right,' and kissing her once more, he slid out, and she
+closed the door behind him.
+
+Then going back to get her hat, she came again into the passage,
+waiting behind the door till it might be safe for her to venture. She
+had not made up her mind to risk it, when she heard a key put in the
+lock, and she hardly had time to spring back to prevent herself from
+being hit by the opening door. It was a man, one of the upstairs
+lodgers.
+
+''Ulloa!' he said, ''oo's there?'
+
+'Mr. 'Odges! Strikes me, you did give me a turn; I was just goin' aht.'
+She blushed to her hair, but in the darkness he could see nothing.
+
+'Good night,' she said, and went out.
+
+She walked close along the sides of the houses like a thief, and the
+policeman as she passed him turned round and looked at her, wondering
+whether she was meditating some illegal deed. She breathed freely on
+coming into the open road, and seeing Jim skulking behind a tree, ran
+up to him, and in the shadows they kissed again.
+
+
+
+
+9
+
+
+Thus began a time of love and joy. As soon as her work was over and
+she had finished tea, Liza would slip out and at some appointed spot
+meet Jim. Usually it would be at the church, where the Westminster
+Bridge Road bends down to get to the river, and they would go off,
+arm-in-arm, till they came to some place where they could sit down and
+rest. Sometimes they would walk along the Albert Embankment to
+Battersea Park, and here sit on the benches, watching the children
+play. The female cyclist had almost abandoned Battersea for the parks
+on the other side of the river, but often enough one went by, and
+Liza, with the old-fashioned prejudice of her class, would look after
+the rider and make some remark about her, not seldom more forcible
+than ladylike. Both Jim and she liked children, and, tiny, ragged
+urchins would gather round to have rides on the man's knees or mock
+fights with Liza.
+
+They thought themselves far away from anyone in Vere Street, but
+twice, as they were walking along, they were met by people they knew.
+Once it was two workmen coming home from a job at Vauxhall: Liza did
+not see them till they were quite near; she immediately dropped Jim's
+arm, and they both cast their eyes to the ground as the men passed,
+like ostriches, expecting that if they did not look they would not be
+seen.
+
+'D'you see 'em, Jim?' asked Liza, in a whisper, when they had gone by.
+'I wonder if they see us.' Almost instinctively she turned round, and
+at the same moment one of the men turned too; then there was no doubt
+about it.
+
+'Thet did give me a turn,' she said.
+
+'So it did me,' answered Jim; 'I simply went 'ot all over.'
+
+'We was bally fools,' said Liza; 'we oughter 'ave spoken to 'em! D'you
+think they'll let aht?'
+
+They heard nothing of it, when Jim afterwards met one of the men in a
+public-house he did not mention a meeting, and they thought that
+perhaps they had not been recognized. But the second time was worse.
+
+It was on the Albert Embankment again. They were met by a party of
+four, all of whom lived in the street. Liza's heart sank within her,
+for there was no chance of escape; she thought of turning quickly and
+walking in the opposite direction, but there was not time, for the men
+had already seen them. She whispered to Jim:
+
+'Back us up,' and as they met she said to one of the men:
+
+''Ulloa there! Where are you off to?'
+
+The men stopped, and one of them asked the question back.
+
+'Where are you off to?'
+
+'Me? Oh, I've just been to the 'orspital. One of the gals at our place
+is queer, an' so I says ter myself, "I'll go an' see 'er."' She
+faltered a little as she began, but quickly gathered herself together,
+lying fluently and without hesitation.
+
+'An' when I come aht,' she went on, ''oo should I see just passin' the
+'orspital but this 'ere cove, an' 'e says to me, "Wot cheer," says 'e,
+"I'm goin' ter Vaux'all, come an' walk a bit of the wy with us."
+"Arright," says I, "I don't mind if I do."'
+
+One man winked, and another said: 'Go it, Liza!'
+
+She fired up with the dignity of outraged innocence.
+
+'Wot d'yer mean by thet?' she said; 'd'yer think I'm kiddin'?'
+
+'Kiddin'? No! You've only just come up from the country, ain't yer?'
+
+'Think I'm kidding? What d'yer think I want ter kid for? Liars never
+believe anyone, thet's fact.'
+
+'Na then, Liza, don't be saucy.'
+
+'Saucy! I'll smack yer in the eye if yer sy much ter me. Come on,' she
+said to Jim, who had been standing sheepishly by; and they walked
+away.
+
+The men shouted: 'Now we shan't be long!' and went off laughing.
+
+After that they decided to go where there was no chance at all of
+their being seen. They did not meet till they got over Westminster
+Bridge, and thence they made their way into the park; they would lie
+down on the grass in one another's arms, and thus spend the long
+summer evenings. After the heat of the day there would be a gentle
+breeze in the park, and they would take in long breaths of the air; it
+seemed far away from London, it was so quiet and cool; and Liza, as
+she lay by Jim's side, felt her love for him overflowing to the rest
+of the world and enveloping mankind itself in a kind of grateful
+happiness. If it could only have lasted! They would stay and see the
+stars shine out dimly, one by one, from the blue sky, till it grew
+late and the blue darkened into black, and the stars glittered in
+thousands all above them. But as the nights grew cooler, they found it
+cold on the grass, and the time they had there seemed too short for
+the long journey they had to make; so, crossing the bridge as before,
+they strolled along the Embankment till they came to a vacant bench,
+and there they would sit, with Liza nestling close up to her lover and
+his great arms around her. The rain of September made no difference to
+them; they went as usual to their seat beneath the trees, and Jim
+would take Liza on his knee, and, opening his coat, shelter her with
+it, while she, with her arms round his neck, pressed very close to
+him, and occasionally gave a little laugh of pleasure and delight.
+They hardly spoke at all through these evenings, for what had they to
+say to one another? Often without exchanging a word they would sit for
+an hour with their faces touching, the one feeling on his cheek the
+hot breath from the other's mouth; while at the end of the time the
+only motion was an upraising of Liza's lips, a bending down of Jim's,
+so that they might meet and kiss. Sometimes Liza fell into a light
+doze, and Jim would sit very still for fear of waking her, and when
+she roused herself she would smile, while he bent down again and
+kissed her. They were very happy. But the hours passed by so quickly,
+that Big Ben striking twelve came upon them as a surprise, and
+unwillingly they got up and made their way homewards; their partings
+were never ending--each evening Jim refused to let her go from his
+arms, and tears stood in his eyes at the thought of the separation.
+
+'I'd give somethin',' he would say, 'if we could be togither always.'
+
+'Never mind, old chap!' Liza would answer, herself half crying, 'it
+can't be 'elped, so we must jolly well lump it.'
+
+But notwithstanding all their precautions people in Vere Street
+appeared to know. First of all Liza noticed that the women did not
+seem quite so cordial as before, and she often fancied they were
+talking of her; when she passed by they appeared to look at her, then
+say something or other, and perhaps burst out laughing; but when she
+approached they would immediately stop speaking, and keep silence in a
+rather awkward, constrained manner. For a long time she was unwilling
+to believe that there was any change in them, and Jim who had observed
+nothing, persuaded her that it was all fancy. But gradually it became
+clearer, and Jim had to agree with her that somehow or other people
+had found out. Once when Liza had been talking to Polly, Jim's
+daughter, Mrs. Blakeston had called her, and when the girl had come to
+her mother Liza saw that she spoke angrily, and they both looked
+across at her. When Liza caught Mrs. Blakeston's eye she saw in her
+face a surly scowl, which almost frightened her; she wanted to brave
+it out, and stepped forward a little to go and speak with the woman,
+but Mrs. Blakeston, standing still, looked so angrily at her that she
+was afraid to. When she told Jim his face grew dark, and he said:
+'Blast the woman! I'll give 'er wot for if she says anythin' ter you.'
+
+'Don't strike 'er, wotever 'appens, will yer, Jim?' said Liza.
+
+'She'd better tike care then!' he answered, and he told her that
+lately his wife had been sulking, and not speaking to him. The
+previous night, on coming home after the day's work and bidding her
+'Good evenin',' she had turned her back on him without answering.
+
+'Can't you answer when you're spoke to?' he had said.
+
+'Good evenin',' she had replied sulkily, with her back still turned.
+
+After that Liza noticed that Polly avoided her.
+
+'Wot's up, Polly?' she said to her one day. 'You never speaks now;
+'ave you 'ad yer tongue cut aht?'
+
+'Me? I ain't got nothin' ter speak abaht, thet I knows of,' answered
+Polly, abruptly walking off. Liza grew very red and quickly looked to
+see if anyone had noticed the incident. A couple of youths, sitting on
+the pavement, had seen it, and she saw them nudge one another and
+wink.
+
+Then the fellows about the street began to chaff her.
+
+'You look pale,' said one of a group to her one day.
+
+'You're overworkin' yerself, you are,' said another.
+
+'Married life don't agree with Liza, thet's wot it is,' added a third.
+
+''Oo d'yer think yer gettin' at? I ain't married, an' never like ter
+be,' she answered.
+
+'Liza 'as all the pleasures of a 'usband an' none of the trouble.'
+
+'Bli'me if I know wot yer mean!' said Liza.
+
+'Na, of course not; you don't know nothin', do yer?'
+
+'Innocent as a bibe. Our Father which art in 'eaven!'
+
+''Aven't been in London long, 'ave yer?'
+
+They spoke in chorus, and Liza stood in front of them, bewildered, not
+knowing what to answer.
+
+'Don't you mike no mistake abaht it, Liza knows a thing or two.'
+
+'O me darlin', I love yer fit to kill, but tike care your missus ain't
+round the corner.' This was particularly bold, and they all laughed.
+
+Liza felt very uncomfortable, and fiddled about with her apron,
+wondering how she should get away.
+
+'Tike care yer don't git into trouble, thet's all,' said one of the
+men, with burlesque gravity.
+
+'Yer might give us a chanst, Liza, you come aht with me one evenin'.
+You oughter give us all a turn, just ter show there's no ill-feelin'.'
+
+'Bli'me if I know wot yer all talkin' abaht. You're all barmy on the
+crumpet,' said Liza indignantly, and, turning her back on them, made
+for home.
+
+Among other things that had happened was Sally's marriage. One
+Saturday a little procession had started from Vere Street, consisting
+of Sally, in a state of giggling excitement, her fringe magnificent
+after a whole week of curling-papers, clad in a perfectly new
+velveteen dress of the colour known as electric blue; and Harry,
+rather nervous and ill at ease in the unaccustomed restraint of a
+collar; these two walked arm-in-arm, and were followed by Sally's
+mother and uncle, also arm-in-arm, and the procession was brought up
+by Harry's brother and a friend. They started with a flourish of
+trumpets and an old boot, and walked down the middle of Vere Street,
+accompanied by the neighbours' good wishes; but as they got into the
+Westminster Bridge Road and nearer to the church, the happy couple
+grew silent, and Harry began to perspire freely, so that his collar
+gave him perfect torture. There was a public-house just opposite the
+church, and it was suggested that they should have a drink before
+going in. As it was a solemn occasion they went into the private bar,
+and there Sally's uncle, who was a man of means, ordered six pots of
+beer.
+
+'Feel a bit nervous, 'Arry?' asked his friend.
+
+'Na,' said Harry, as if he had been used to getting married every day
+of his life; 'bit warm, thet's all.'
+
+'Your very good 'ealth, Sally,' said her mother, lifting her mug;
+'this is the last time as I shall ever address you as miss.'
+
+'An' may she be as good a wife as you was,' added Sally's uncle.
+
+'Well, I don't think my old man ever 'ad no complaint ter mike abaht
+me. I did my duty by 'im, although it's me as says it,' answered the
+good lady.
+
+'Well, mates,' said Harry's brother, 'I reckon it's abaht time to go
+in. So 'ere's to the 'ealth of Mr. 'Enry Atkins an' 'is future missus.'
+
+'An' God bless 'em!' said Sally's mother.
+
+Then they went into the church, and as they solemnly walked up the
+aisle a pale-faced young curate came out of the vestry and down to the
+bottom of the chancel. The beer had had a calming effect on their
+troubled minds, and both Harry and Sally began to think it rather a
+good joke. They smiled on each other, and at those parts of the
+service which they thought suggestive violently nudged one another in
+the ribs. When the ring had to be produced, Harry fumbled about in
+different pockets, and his brother whispered:
+
+'Swop me bob, 'e's gone and lorst it!'
+
+However, all went right, and Sally having carefully pocketed the
+certificate, they went out and had another drink to celebrate the
+happy event.
+
+In the evening Liza and several friends came into the couple's room,
+which they had taken in the same house as Sally had lived in before,
+and drank the health of the bride and bridegroom till they thought fit
+to retire.
+
+
+
+
+10
+
+
+It was November. The fine weather had quite gone now, and with it much
+of the sweet pleasure of Jim and Liza's love. When they came out at
+night on the Embankment they found it cold and dreary; sometimes a
+light fog covered the river-banks, and made the lamps glow out dim and
+large; a light rain would be falling, which sent a chill into their
+very souls; foot passengers came along at rare intervals, holding up
+umbrellas, and staring straight in front of them as they hurried along
+in the damp and cold; a cab would pass rapidly by, splashing up the
+mud on each side. The benches were deserted, except, perhaps, for some
+poor homeless wretch who could afford no shelter, and, huddled up in a
+corner, with his head buried in his breast, was sleeping heavily, like
+a dead man. The wet mud made Liza's skirts cling about her feet, and
+the damp would come in and chill her legs and creep up her body, till
+she shivered, and for warmth pressed herself close against Jim.
+Sometimes they would go into the third-class waiting-rooms at Waterloo
+or Charing Cross and sit there, but it was not like the park or the
+Embankment on summer nights; they had warmth, but the heat made their
+wet clothes steam and smell, and the gas flared in their eyes, and
+they hated the people perpetually coming in and out, opening the doors
+and letting in a blast of cold air; they hated the noise of the guards
+and porters shouting out the departure of the trains, the shrill
+whistling of the steam-engine, the hurry and bustle and confusion.
+About eleven o'clock, when the trains grew less frequent, they got
+some quietness; but then their minds were troubled, and they felt
+heavy, sad and miserable.
+
+One evening they had been sitting at Waterloo Station; it was foggy
+outside--a thick, yellow November fog, which filled the waiting-room,
+entering the lungs, and making the mouth taste nasty and the eyes
+smart. It was about half-past eleven, and the station was unusually
+quiet; a few passengers, in wraps and overcoats, were walking to and
+fro, waiting for the last train, and one or two porters were standing
+about yawning. Liza and Jim had remained for an hour in perfect
+silence, filled with a gloomy unhappiness, as of a great weight on
+their brains. Liza was sitting forward, with her elbows on her knees,
+resting her face on her hands.
+
+'I wish I was straight,' she said at last, not looking up.
+
+'Well, why won't yer come along of me altogether, an' you'll be
+arright then?' he answered.
+
+'Na, that's no go; I can't do thet.' He had often asked her to live
+with him entirely, but she had always refused.
+
+'You can come along of me, an' I'll tike a room in a lodgin' 'ouse in
+'Olloway, an' we can live there as if we was married.'
+
+'Wot abaht yer work?'
+
+'I can get work over the other side as well as I can 'ere. I'm abaht
+sick of the wy things is goin' on.'
+
+'So am I; but I can't leave mother.'
+
+'She can come, too.'
+
+'Not when I'm not married. I shouldn't like 'er ter know as I'd--as
+I'd gone wrong.'
+
+'Well, I'll marry yer. Swop me bob, I wants ter badly enough.'
+
+'Yer can't; yer married already.'
+
+'Thet don't matter! If I give the missus so much a week aht of my
+screw, she'll sign a piper ter give up all clime ter me, an' then we
+can get spliced. One of the men as I works with done thet, an' it was
+arright.'
+
+Liza shook her head.
+
+'Na, yer can't do thet now; it's bigamy, an' the cop tikes yer, an'
+yer gits twelve months' 'ard for it.'
+
+'But swop me bob, Liza, I can't go on like this. Yer knows the
+missus--well, there ain't no bloomin' doubt abaht it, she knows as you
+an' me are carryin' on, an' she mikes no bones abaht lettin' me see
+it.'
+
+'She don't do thet?'
+
+'Well, she don't exactly sy it, but she sulks an' won't speak, an'
+then when I says anythin' she rounds on me an' calls me all the nimes
+she can think of. I'd give 'er a good 'idin', but some'ow I don't like
+ter! She mikes the plice a 'ell ter me, an' I'm not goin' ter stand it
+no longer!'
+
+'You'll ave ter sit it, then; yer can't chuck it.'
+
+'Yus I can, an' I would if you'd come along of me. I don't believe you
+like me at all, Liza, or you'd come.'
+
+She turned towards him and put her arms round his neck.
+
+'Yer know I do, old cock,' she said. 'I like yer better than anyone
+else in the world; but I can't go awy an' leave mother.'
+
+'Bli'me me if I see why; she's never been much ter you. She mikes yer
+slave awy ter pay the rent, an' all the money she earns she boozes.'
+
+'Thet's true, she ain't been wot yer might call a good mother ter
+me--but some'ow she's my mother, an' I don't like ter leave 'er on 'er
+own, now she's so old--an' she can't do much with the rheumatics. An'
+besides, Jim dear, it ain't only mother, but there's yer own kids, yer
+can't leave them.'
+
+He thought for a while, and then said:
+
+'You're abaht right there, Liza; I dunno if I could get on without the
+kids. If I could only tike them an' you too, swop me bob, I should be
+'appy.'
+
+Liza smiled sadly.
+
+'So yer see, Jim, we're in a bloomin' 'ole, an' there ain't no way aht
+of it thet I can see.'
+
+He took her on his knees, and pressing her to him, kissed her very
+long and very lovingly.
+
+'Well, we must trust ter luck,' she said again, 'p'raps somethin' 'll
+'appen soon, an' everythin' 'll come right in the end--when we gets
+four balls of worsted for a penny.'
+
+It was past twelve, and separating, they went by different ways along
+the dreary, wet, deserted roads till they came to Vere Street.
+
+The street seemed quite different to Liza from what it had been three
+months before. Tom, the humble adorer, had quite disappeared from her
+life. One day, three or four weeks after the August Bank Holiday, she
+saw him dawdling along the pavement, and it suddenly struck her that
+she had not seen him for a long time; but she had been so full of her
+happiness that she had been unable to think of anyone but Jim. She
+wondered at his absence, since before wherever she had been there was
+he certain to be also. She passed him, but to her astonishment he did
+not speak to her. She thought by some wonder he had not seen her, but
+she felt his gaze resting upon her. She turned back, and suddenly he
+dropped his eyes and looked down, walking on as if he had not seen
+her, but blushing furiously.
+
+'Tom,' she said, 'why don't yer speak ter me.'
+
+He started and blushed more than ever.
+
+'I didn't know yer was there,' he stuttered.
+
+'Don't tell me,' she said, 'wot's up?'
+
+'Nothin' as I knows of,' he answered uneasily.
+
+'I ain't offended yer, 'ave I, Tom?'
+
+'Na, not as I knows of,' he replied, looking very unhappy.
+
+'You don't ever come my way now,' she said.
+
+'I didn't know as yer wanted ter see me.'
+
+'Garn! Yer knows I likes you as well as anybody.'
+
+'Yer likes so many people, Liza,' he said, flushing.
+
+'What d'yer mean?' said Liza indignantly, but very red; she was afraid
+he knew now, and it was from him especially she would have been so
+glad to hide it.
+
+'Nothin',' he answered.
+
+'One doesn't say things like thet without any meanin', unless one's a
+blimed fool.'
+
+'You're right there, Liza,' he answered. 'I am a blimed fool.' He
+looked at her a little reproachfully, she thought, and then he said
+'Good-bye,' and turned away.
+
+At first she was horrified that he should know of her love for Jim,
+but then she did not care. After all, it was nobody's business, and
+what did anything matter as long as she loved Jim and Jim loved her?
+Then she grew angry that Tom should suspect her; he could know nothing
+but that some of the men had seen her with Jim near Vauxhall, and it
+seemed mean that he should condemn her for that. Thenceforward, when
+she ran against Tom, she cut him; he never tried to speak to her, but
+as she passed him, pretending to look in front of her, she could see
+that he always blushed, and she fancied his eyes were very sorrowful.
+Then several weeks went by, and as she began to feel more and more
+lonely in the street she regretted the quarrel; she cried a little as
+she thought that she had lost his faithful gentle love and she would
+have much liked to be friends with him again. If he had only made some
+advance she would have welcomed him so cordially, but she was too
+proud to go to him herself and beg him to forgive her--and then how
+could he forgive her?
+
+She had lost Sally too, for on her marriage Harry had made her give up
+the factory; he was a young man with principles worthy of a Member of
+Parliament, and he had said:
+
+'A woman's plice is 'er 'ome, an' if 'er old man can't afford ter keep
+'er without 'er workin' in a factory--well, all I can say is thet 'e'd
+better go an' git single.'
+
+'Quite right, too,' agreed his mother-in-law; 'an' wot's more, she'll
+'ave a baby ter look after soon, an' thet'll tike 'er all 'er time,
+an' there's no one as knows thet better than me, for I've 'ad twelve,
+ter sy nothin' of two stills an' one miss.'
+
+Liza quite envied Sally her happiness, for the bride was brimming
+over with song and laughter; her happiness overwhelmed her.
+
+'I am 'appy,' she said to Liza one day a few weeks after her marriage.
+'You dunno wot a good sort 'Arry is. 'E's just a darlin', an' there's
+no mistikin' it. I don't care wot other people sy, but wot I says is,
+there's nothin' like marriage. Never a cross word passes his lips, an'
+mother 'as all 'er meals with us an' 'e says all the better. Well I'm
+thet 'appy I simply dunno if I'm standin' on my 'ead or on my 'eels.'
+
+But alas! it did not last too long. Sally was not so full of joy when
+next Liza met her, and one day her eyes looked very much as if she had
+been crying.
+
+'Wot's the matter?' asked Liza, looking at her. 'Wot 'ave yer been
+blubberin' abaht?'
+
+'Me?' said Sally, getting very red. 'Oh, I've got a bit of a
+toothache, an'--well, I'm rather a fool like, an' it 'urt so much that
+I couldn't 'elp cryin'.'
+
+Liza was not satisfied, but could get nothing further out of her. Then
+one day it came out. It was a Saturday night, the time when women in
+Vere Street weep. Liza went up into Sally's room for a few minutes on
+her way to the Westminster Bridge Road, where she was to meet Jim.
+Harry had taken the top back room, and Liza, climbing up the second
+flight of stairs, called out as usual.
+
+'Wot ho, Sally!'
+
+The door remained shut, although Liza could see that there was a light
+in the room; but on getting to the door she stood still, for she heard
+the sound of sobbing. She listened for a minute and then knocked:
+there was a little flurry inside, and someone called out:
+
+''Oo's there?'
+
+'Only me,' said Liza, opening the door. As she did so she saw Sally
+rapidly wipe her eyes and put her handkerchief away. Her mother was
+sitting by her side, evidently comforting her.
+
+'Wot's up, Sal?' asked Liza.
+
+'Nothin',' answered Sally, with a brave little gasp to stop the
+crying, turning her face downwards so that Liza should not see the
+tears in her eyes; but they were too strong for her, and, quickly
+taking out her handkerchief, she hid her face in it and began to sob
+broken-heartedly. Liza looked at the mother in interrogation.
+
+'Oh, it's thet man again!' said the lady, snorting and tossing her
+head.
+
+'Not 'Arry?' asked Liza, in surprise.
+
+'Not 'Arry--'oo is it if it ain't 'Arry? The villin!'
+
+'Wot's 'e been doin', then?' asked Liza again.
+
+'Beatin' 'er, that's wot 'e's been doin'! Oh, the villin, 'e oughter
+be ashimed of 'isself 'e ought!'
+
+'I didn't know 'e was like that!' said Liza.
+
+'Didn't yer? I thought the 'ole street knew it by now,' said Mrs.
+Cooper indignantly. 'Oh, 'e's a wrong 'un, 'e is.'
+
+'It wasn't 'is fault,' put in Sally, amidst her sobs; 'it's only
+because 'e's 'ad a little drop too much. 'E's arright when 'e's
+sober.'
+
+'A little drop too much! I should just think 'e'd 'ad, the beast! I'd
+give it 'im if I was a man. They're all like thet--'usbinds is all
+alike; they're arright when they're sober--sometimes--but when they've
+got the liquor in 'em, they're beasts, an' no mistike. I 'ad a 'usbind
+myself for five-an'-twenty years, an' I know 'em.'
+
+'Well, mother,' sobbed Sally, 'it was all my fault. I should 'ave come
+'ome earlier.'
+
+'Na, it wasn't your fault at all. Just you look 'ere, Liza: this is
+wot 'e done an' call 'isself a man. Just because Sally'd gone aht to
+'ave a chat with Mrs. McLeod in the next 'ouse, when she come in 'e
+start bangin' 'er abaht. An' me, too, wot d'yer think of that!' Mrs.
+Cooper was quite purple with indignation.
+
+'Yus,' she went on, 'thet's a man for yer. Of course, I wasn't goin'
+ter stand there an' see my daughter bein' knocked abaht; it wasn't
+likely--was it? An' 'e rounds on me, an' 'e 'its me with 'is fist.
+Look 'ere.' She pulled up her sleeves and showed two red and brawny
+arms. ''E's bruised my arms; I thought 'e'd broken it at fust. If I
+'adn't put my arm up, 'e'd 'ave got me on the 'ead, an' 'e might 'ave
+killed me. An' I says to 'im, "If you touch me again, I'll go ter the
+police-station, thet I will!" Well, that frightened 'im a bit, an'
+then didn't I let 'im 'ave it! "You call yerself a man," says I, "an'
+you ain't fit ter clean the drains aht." You should 'ave 'eard the
+language 'e used. "You dirty old woman," says 'e, "you go away; you're
+always interferin' with me." Well, I don't like ter repeat wot 'e
+said, and thet's the truth. An' I says ter 'im, "I wish yer'd never
+married my daughter, an' if I'd known you was like this I'd 'ave died
+sooner than let yer."'
+
+'Well, I didn't know 'e was like thet!' said Liza.
+
+''E was arright at fust,' said Sally.
+
+'Yus, they're always arright at fust! But ter think it should 'ave
+come to this now, when they ain't been married three months, an' the
+first child not born yet! I think it's disgraceful.'
+
+Liza stayed a little while longer, helping to comfort Sally, who kept
+pathetically taking to herself all the blame of the dispute; and then,
+bidding her good night and better luck, she slid off to meet Jim.
+
+When she reached the appointed spot he was not to be found. She waited
+for some time, and at last saw him come out of the neighbouring pub.
+
+'Good night, Jim,' she said as she came up to him.
+
+'So you've turned up, 'ave yer?' he answered roughly, turning round.
+
+'Wot's the matter, Jim?' she asked in a frightened way, for he had
+never spoken to her in that manner.
+
+'Nice thing ter keep me witin' all night for yer to come aht.'
+
+She saw that he had been drinking, and answered humbly.
+
+'I'm very sorry, Jim, but I went in to Sally, an' 'er bloke 'ad been
+knockin' 'er abaht, an' so I sat with 'er a bit.'
+
+'Knockin' 'er abaht, 'ad 'e? and serve 'er damn well right too; an'
+there's many more as could do with a good 'idin'!'
+
+Liza did not answer. He looked at her, and then suddenly said:
+
+'Come in an' 'ave a drink.'
+
+'Na, I'm not thirsty; I don't want a drink,' she answered.
+
+'Come on,' he said angrily.
+
+'Na, Jim, you've had quite enough already.'
+
+''Oo are you talkin' ter?' he said. 'Don't come if yer don't want ter;
+I'll go an' 'ave one by myself.'
+
+'Na, Jim, don't.' She caught hold of his arm.
+
+'Yus, I shall,' he said, going towards the pub, while she held him
+back. 'Let me go, can't yer! Let me go!' He roughly pulled his arm
+away from her. As she tried to catch hold of it again, he pushed her
+back, and in the little scuffle caught her a blow over the face.
+
+'Oh!' she cried, 'you did 'urt!'
+
+He was sobered at once.
+
+'Liza,' he said. 'I ain't 'urt yer?' She didn't answer, and he took
+her in his arms. 'Liza, I ain't 'urt you, 'ave I? Say I ain't 'urt
+yer. I'm so sorry, I beg your pardon, Liza.'
+
+'Arright, old chap,' she said, smiling charmingly on him. 'It wasn't
+the blow that 'urt me much; it was the wy you was talkin'.'
+
+'I didn't mean it, Liza.' He was so contrite, he could not humble
+himself enough. 'I 'ad another bloomin' row with the missus ter-night,
+an' then when I didn't find you 'ere, an' I kept witin' an'
+witin'--well, I fair downright lost my 'air. An' I 'ad two or three
+pints of four 'alf, an'--well, I dunno--'
+
+'Never mind, old cock. I can stand more than thet as long as yer loves
+me.'
+
+He kissed her and they were quite friends again. But the little
+quarrel had another effect which was worse for Liza. When she woke up
+next morning she noticed a slight soreness over the ridge of bone
+under the left eye, and on looking in the glass saw that it was black
+and blue and green. She bathed it, but it remained, and seemed to get
+more marked. She was terrified lest people should see it, and kept
+indoors all day; but next morning it was blacker than ever. She went
+to the factory with her hat over her eyes and her head bent down; she
+escaped observation, but on the way home she was not so lucky. The
+sharp eyes of some girls noticed it first.
+
+'Wot's the matter with yer eye?' asked one of them.
+
+'Me?' answered Liza, putting her hand up as if in ignorance. 'Nothin'
+thet I knows of.'
+
+Two or three young men were standing by, and hearing the girl, looked
+up.
+
+'Why, yer've got a black eye, Liza!'
+
+'Me? I ain't got no black eye!'
+
+'Yus you 'ave; 'ow d'yer get it?'
+
+'I dunno,' said Liza. 'I didn't know I 'ad one.'
+
+'Garn! tell us another!' was the answer. 'One doesn't git a black eye
+without knowin' 'ow they got it.'
+
+'Well, I did fall against the chest of drawers yesterday; I suppose I
+must 'ave got it then.'
+
+'Oh yes, we believe thet, don't we?'
+
+'I didn't know 'e was so 'andy with 'is dukes, did you, Ted?' asked
+one man of another.
+
+Liza felt herself grow red to the tips of her toes.
+
+'Who?' she asked.
+
+'Never you mind; nobody you know.'
+
+At that moment Jim's wife passed and looked at her with a scowl. Liza
+wished herself a hundred miles away, and blushed more violently than
+ever.
+
+'Wot are yer blushin' abaht?' ingenuously asked one of the girls.
+
+And they all looked from her to Mrs. Blakeston and back again. Someone
+said: ''Ow abaht our Sunday boots on now?' And a titter went through
+them. Liza's nerve deserted her; she could think of nothing to say,
+and a sob burst from her. To hide the tears which were coming from her
+eyes she turned away and walked homewards. Immediately a great shout
+of laughter broke from the group, and she heard them positively
+screaming till she got into her own house.
+
+
+
+
+11
+
+
+A few days afterwards Liza was talking with Sally, who did not seem
+very much happier than when Liza had last seen her.
+
+''E ain't wot I thought 'e wos,' she said. 'I don't mind sayin' thet;
+but 'e 'as a lot ter put up with; I expect I'm rather tryin'
+sometimes, an' 'e means well. P'raps 'e'll be kinder like when the
+biby's born.'
+
+'Cheer up, old gal,' answered Liza, who had seen something of the
+lives of many married couples; 'it won't seem so bad after yer gets
+used to it; it's a bit disappointin' at fust, but yer gits not ter
+mind it.'
+
+After a little Sally said she must go and see about her husband's tea.
+She said good-bye, and then rather awkwardly:
+
+'Say, Liza, tike care of yerself!'
+
+'Tike care of meself--why?' asked Liza, in surprise.
+
+'Yer know wot I mean.'
+
+'Na, I'm darned if I do.'
+
+'Thet there Mrs. Blakeston, she's lookin' aht for you.'
+
+'Mrs. Blakeston!' Liza was startled.
+
+'Yus; she says she's goin' ter give you somethin' if she can git 'old
+on yer. I should advise yer ter tike care.'
+
+'Me?' said Liza.
+
+Sally looked away, so as not to see the other's face.
+
+'She says as 'ow yer've been messin' abaht with 'er old man.'
+
+Liza didn't say anything, and Sally, repeating her good-bye, slid off.
+
+Liza felt a chill run through her. She had several times noticed a
+scowl and a look of anger on Mrs. Blakeston's face, and she had avoided
+her as much as possible; but she had no idea that the woman meant to
+do anything to her. She was very frightened, a cold sweat broke out
+over her face. If Mrs. Blakeston got hold of her she would be helpless,
+she was so small and weak, while the other was strong and muscular.
+Liza wondered what she would do if she did catch her.
+
+That night she told Jim, and tried to make a joke of it.
+
+'I say, Jim, your missus--she says she's goin' ter give me socks if
+she catches me.'
+
+'My missus! 'Ow d'yer know?'
+
+'She's been tellin' people in the street.'
+
+'Go' lumme,' said Jim, furious, 'if she dares ter touch a 'air of your
+'ead, swop me dicky I'll give 'er sich a 'idin' as she never 'ad
+before! By God, give me the chanst, an' I would let 'er 'ave it; I'm
+bloomin' well sick of 'er sulks!' He clenched his fist as he spoke.
+
+Liza was a coward. She could not help thinking of her enemy's threat;
+it got on her nerves, and she hardly dared go out for fear of meeting
+her; she would look nervously in front of her, quickly turning round
+if she saw in the distance anyone resembling Mrs. Blakeston. She
+dreamed of her at night; she saw the big, powerful form, the heavy,
+frowning face, and the curiously braided brown hair; and she would
+wake up with a cry and find herself bathed in sweat.
+
+It was the Saturday afternoon following this, a chill November day,
+with the roads sloshy, and a grey, comfortless sky that made one's
+spirits sink. It was about three o'clock, and Liza was coming home
+from work; she got into Vere Street, and was walking quickly towards
+her house when she saw Mrs. Blakeston coming towards her. Her heart
+gave a great jump. Turning, she walked rapidly in the direction she
+had come; with a screw round of her eyes she saw that she was being
+followed, and therefore went straight out of Vere Street. She went
+right round, meaning to get into the street from the other end and,
+unobserved, slip into her house, which was then quite close; but she
+dared not risk it immediately for fear Mrs. Blakeston should still be
+there; so she waited about for half an hour. It seemed an age.
+Finally, taking her courage in both hands, she turned the corner and
+entered Vere Street. She nearly ran into the arms of Mrs. Blakeston,
+who was standing close to the public-house door.
+
+Liza gave a little cry, and the woman said, with a sneer:
+
+'Yer didn't expect ter see me, did yer?'
+
+Liza did not answer, but tried to walk past her. Mrs. Blakeston stepped
+forward and blocked her way.
+
+'Yer seem ter be in a mighty fine 'urry,' she said.
+
+'Yus, I've got ter git 'ome,' said Liza, again trying to pass.
+
+'But supposin' I don't let yer?' remarked Mrs. Blakeston, preventing
+her from moving.
+
+'Why don't yer leave me alone?' Liza said. 'I ain't interferin' with
+you!'
+
+'Not interferin' with me, aren't yer? I like thet!'
+
+'Let me go by,' said Liza. 'I don't want ter talk ter you.'
+
+'Na, I know thet,' said the other; 'but I want ter talk ter you, an' I
+shan't let yer go until I've said wot I wants ter sy.'
+
+Liza looked round for help. At the beginning of the altercation the
+loafers about the public-house had looked up with interest, and
+gradually gathered round in a little circle. Passers-by had joined in,
+and a number of other people in the street, seeing the crowd, added
+themselves to it to see what was going on. Liza saw that all eyes were
+fixed on her, the men amused and excited, the women unsympathetic,
+rather virtuously indignant. Liza wanted to ask for help, but there
+were so many people, and they all seemed so much against her, that she
+had not the courage to. So, having surveyed the crowd, she turned her
+eyes to Mrs. Blakeston, and stood in front of her, trembling a little,
+and very white.
+
+'Na, 'e ain't there,' said Mrs. Blakeston, sneeringly, 'so yer needn't
+look for 'im.'
+
+'I dunno wot yer mean,' answered Liza, 'an' I want ter go awy. I ain't
+done nothin' ter you.'
+
+'Not done nothin' ter me?' furiously repeated the woman. 'I'll tell
+yer wot yer've done ter me--you've robbed me of my 'usbind, you 'ave.
+I never 'ad a word with my 'usbind until you took 'im from me. An' now
+it's all you with 'im. 'E's got no time for 'is wife an' family--it's
+all you. An' 'is money, too. I never git a penny of it; if it weren't
+for the little bit I 'ad saved up in the siving-bank, me an' my
+children 'ud be starvin' now! An' all through you!' She shook her fist
+at her.
+
+'I never 'ad any money from anyone.'
+
+'Don' talk ter me; I know yer did. Yer dirty bitch! You oughter be
+ishimed of yourself tikin' a married man from 'is family, an' 'im old
+enough ter be yer father.'
+
+'She's right there!' said one or two of the onlooking women. 'There
+can't be no good in 'er if she tikes somebody else's 'usbind.'
+
+'I'll give it yer!' proceeded Mrs. Blakeston, getting more hot and
+excited, brandishing her fist, and speaking in a loud voice, hoarse
+with rage. 'Oh, I've been tryin' ter git 'old on yer this four weeks.
+Why, you're a prostitute--that's wot you are!'
+
+'I'm not!' answered Liza indignantly.
+
+'Yus, you are,' repeated Mrs. Blakeston, advancing menacingly, so that
+Liza shrank back. 'An' wot's more, 'e treats yer like one. I know 'oo
+give yer thet black eye; thet shows what 'e thinks of yer! An' serve
+yer bloomin' well right if 'e'd give yer one in both eyes!'
+
+Mrs. Blakeston stood close in front of her, her heavy jaw protruded and
+the frown of her eyebrows dark and stern. For a moment she stood
+silent, contemplating Liza, while the surrounders looked on in
+breathless interest.
+
+'Yer dirty little bitch, you!' she said at last. 'Tike that!' and with
+her open hand she gave her a sharp smack on the cheek.
+
+Liza started back with a cry and put her hand up to her face.
+
+'An' tike thet!' added Mrs. Blakeston, repeating the blow. Then,
+gathering up the spittle in her mouth, she spat in Liza's face.
+
+Liza sprang on her, and with her hands spread out like claws buried
+her nails in the woman's face and drew them down her cheeks. Mrs.
+Blakeston caught hold of her hair with both hands and tugged at it as
+hard as she could. But they were immediately separated.
+
+''Ere, 'old 'ard!' said some of the men. 'Fight it aht fair and
+square. Don't go scratchin' and maulin' like thet.'
+
+'I'll fight 'er, I don't mind!' shouted Mrs. Blakeston, tucking up her
+sleeves and savagely glaring at her opponent.
+
+Liza stood in front of her, pale and trembling; as she looked at her
+enemy, and saw the long red marks of her nails, with blood coming from
+one or two of them, she shrank back.
+
+'I don't want ter fight,' she said hoarsely.
+
+'Na, I don't suppose yer do,' hissed the other, 'but yer'll damn well
+'ave ter!'
+
+'She's ever so much bigger than me; I've got no chanst,' added Liza
+tearfully.
+
+'You should 'ave thought of thet before. Come on!' and with these
+words Mrs. Blakeston rushed upon her. She hit her with both fists one
+after the other. Liza did not try to guard herself, but imitating the
+woman's motion, hit out with her own fists; and for a minute or two
+they continued thus, raining blows on one another with the same
+windmill motion of the arms. But Liza could not stand against the
+other woman's weight; the blows came down heavy and rapid all over her
+face and head. She put up her hands to cover her face and turned her
+head away, while Mrs. Blakeston kept on hitting mercilessly.
+
+'Time!' shouted some of the men--'Time!' and Mrs. Blakeston stopped to
+rest herself.
+
+'It don't seem 'ardly fair to set them two on tergether. Liza's got no
+chanst against a big woman like thet,' said a man among the crowd.
+
+'Well, it's er' own fault,' answered a woman; 'she didn't oughter mess
+about with 'er 'usbind.'
+
+'Well, I don't think it's right,' added another man. 'She's gettin' it
+too much.'
+
+'An' serve 'er right too!' said one of the women. 'She deserves all
+she gets an' a damn sight more inter the bargain.'
+
+'Quite right,' put in a third; 'a woman's got no right ter tike
+someone's 'usbind from 'er. An' if she does she's bloomin' lucky if
+she gits off with a 'idin'--thet's wot I think.'
+
+'So do I. But I wouldn't 'ave thought it of Liza. I never thought she
+was a wrong 'un.'
+
+'Pretty specimen she is!' said a little dark woman, who looked like a
+Jewess. 'If she messed abaht with my old man, I'd stick 'er--I swear I
+would!'
+
+'Now she's been carryin' on with one, she'll try an' git others--you
+see if she don't.'
+
+'She'd better not come round my 'ouse; I'll soon give 'er wot for.'
+
+Meanwhile Liza was standing at one corner of the ring, trembling all
+over and crying bitterly. One of her eyes was bunged up, and her hair,
+all dishevelled, was hanging down over her face. Two young fellows,
+who had constituted themselves her seconds, were standing in front of
+her, offering rather ironical comfort. One of them had taken the
+bottom corners of her apron and was fanning her with it, while the
+other was showing her how to stand and hold her arms.
+
+'You stand up to 'er, Liza,' he was saying; 'there ain't no good
+funkin' it, you'll simply get it all the worse. You 'it 'er back. Give
+'er one on the boko, like this--see; yer must show a bit of pluck, yer
+know.'
+
+Liza tried to check her sobs.
+
+'Yus, 'it 'er 'ard, that's wot yer've got ter do,' said the other.
+'An' if yer find she's gettin' the better on yer, you close on 'er and
+catch 'old of 'er 'air and scratch 'er.'
+
+'You've marked 'er with yer nails, Liza. By gosh, you did fly on her
+when she spat at yer! thet's the way ter do the job!'
+
+Then turning to his fellow, he said:
+
+'D'yer remember thet fight as old Mother Cregg 'ad with another woman
+in the street last year?'
+
+'Na,' he answered, 'I never saw thet.'
+
+'It was a cawker; an' the cops come in and took 'em both off ter
+quod.'
+
+Liza wished the policemen would come and take her off; she would
+willingly have gone to prison to escape the fiend in front of her; but
+no help came.
+
+'Time's up!' shouted the referee. 'Fire away!'
+
+'Tike care of the cops!' shouted a man.
+
+'There's no fear abaht them,' answered somebody else. 'They always
+keeps out of the way when there's anythin' goin' on.'
+
+'Fire away!'
+
+Mrs. Blakeston attacked Liza madly; but the girl stood up bravely, and
+as well as she could gave back the blows she received. The spectators
+grew tremendously excited.
+
+'Got 'im again!' they shouted. 'Give it 'er, Liza, thet's a good
+'un!--'it 'er 'ard!'
+
+'Two ter one on the old 'un!' shouted a sporting gentleman; but Liza
+found no backers.
+
+'Ain't she standin' up well now she's roused?' cried someone.
+
+'Oh, she's got some pluck in 'er, she 'as!'
+
+'Thet's a knock-aht!' they shouted as Mrs. Blakeston brought her fist
+down on to Liza's nose; the girl staggered back, and blood began to
+flow. Then, losing all fear, mad with rage, she made a rush on her
+enemy, and rained down blows all over her nose and eyes and mouth. The
+woman recoiled at the sudden violence of the onslaught, and the men
+cried:
+
+'By God, the little 'un's gettin' the best of it!'
+
+But quickly recovering herself the woman closed with Liza, and dug her
+nails into her flesh. Liza caught hold of her hair and pulled with all
+her might, and turning her teeth on Mrs. Blakeston tried to bite her.
+And thus for a minute they swayed about, scratching, tearing, biting,
+sweat and blood pouring down their faces, and their eyes fixed on one
+another, bloodshot and full of rage. The audience shouted and cheered
+and clapped their hands.
+
+'Wot the 'ell's up 'ere?'
+
+'I sy, look there,' said some of the women in a whisper. 'It's the
+'usbind!'
+
+He stood on tiptoe and looked over the crowd.
+
+'My Gawd,' he said, 'it's Liza!'
+
+Then roughly pushing the people aside, he made his way through the
+crowd into the centre, and thrusting himself between the two women,
+tore them apart. He turned furiously on his wife.
+
+'By Gawd, I'll give yer somethin' for this!'
+
+And for a moment they all three stood silently looking at one another.
+
+Another man had been attracted by the crowd, and he, too, pushed his
+way through.
+
+'Come 'ome, Liza,' he said.
+
+'Tom!'
+
+He took hold of her arm, and led her through the people, who gave way
+to let her pass. They walked silently through the street, Tom very
+grave, Liza weeping bitterly.
+
+'Oh, Tom,' she sobbed after a while, 'I couldn't 'elp it!' Then, when
+her tears permitted, 'I did love 'im so!'
+
+When they got to the door she plaintively said: 'Come in,' and he
+followed her to her room. Here she sank on to a chair, and gave
+herself up to her tears.
+
+Tom wetted the end of a towel and began wiping her face, grimy with
+blood and tears. She let him do it, just moaning amid her sobs:
+
+'You are good ter me, Tom.'
+
+'Cheer up, old gal,' he said kindly, 'it's all over now.'
+
+After a while the excess of crying brought its cessation. She drank
+some water, and then taking up a broken handglass she looked at
+herself, saying:
+
+'I am a sight!' and proceeded to wind up her hair. 'You 'ave been good
+ter me, Tom,' she repeated, her voice still broken with sobs; and as
+he sat down beside her she took his hand.
+
+'Na, I ain't,' he answered; 'it's only wot anybody 'ud 'ave done.'
+
+'Yer know, Tom,' she said, after a little silence, 'I'm so sorry I
+spoke cross like when I met yer in the street; you ain't spoke ter me
+since.'
+
+'Oh, thet's all over now, old lidy, we needn't think of thet.'
+
+'Oh, but I 'ave treated yer bad. I'm a regular wrong 'un, I am.'
+
+He pressed her hand without speaking.
+
+'I say, Tom,' she began, after another pause. 'Did yer know
+thet--well, you know--before ter-day?'
+
+He blushed as he answered:
+
+'Yus.'
+
+She spoke very sadly and slowly.
+
+'I thought yer did; yer seemed so cut up like when I used to meet yer.
+Yer did love me then, Tom, didn't yer?'
+
+'I do now, dearie,' he answered.
+
+'Ah, it's too lite now,' she sighed.
+
+'D'yer know, Liza,' he said, 'I just abaht kicked the life aht of a
+feller 'cause 'e said you was messin' abaht with--with 'im.'
+
+'An' yer knew I was?'
+
+'Yus--but I wasn't goin' ter 'ave anyone say it before me.'
+
+'They've all rounded on me except you, Tom. I'd 'ave done better if
+I'd tiken you when you arst me; I shouldn't be where I am now, if I
+'ad.'
+
+'Well, won't yer now? Won't yer 'ave me now?'
+
+'Me? After wot's 'appened?'
+
+'Oh, I don't mind abaht thet. Thet don't matter ter me if you'll marry
+me. I fair can't live without yer, Liza--won't yer?'
+
+She groaned.
+
+'Na, I can't, Tom, it wouldn't be right.'
+
+'Why, not, if I don't mind?'
+
+'Tom,' she said, looking down, almost whispering, 'I'm like that--you
+know!'
+
+'Wot d'yer mean?'
+
+She could scarcely utter the words--
+
+'I think I'm in the family wy.'
+
+He paused a moment; then spoke again.
+
+'Well--I don't mind, if yer'll only marry me.'
+
+'Na, I can't, Tom,' she said, bursting into tears; 'I can't, but you
+are so good ter me; I'd do anythin' ter mike it up ter you.'
+
+She put her arms round his neck and slid on to his knees.
+
+'Yer know, Tom, I couldn't marry yer now; but anythin' else--if yer
+wants me ter do anythin' else, I'll do it if it'll mike you 'appy.'
+
+He did not understand, but only said:
+
+'You're a good gal, Liza,' and bending down he kissed her gravely on
+the forehead.
+
+Then with a sigh he lifted her down, and getting up left her alone.
+For a while she sat where he left her, but as she thought of all she
+had gone through her loneliness and misery overcame her, the tears
+welled forth, and throwing herself on the bed she buried her face in
+the pillows.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jim stood looking at Liza as she went off with Tom, and his wife
+watched him jealously.
+
+'It's 'er you're thinkin' abaht. Of course you'd 'ave liked ter tike
+'er 'ome yerself, I know, an' leave me to shift for myself.'
+
+'Shut up!' said Jim, angrily turning upon her.
+
+'I shan't shut up,' she answered, raising her voice. 'Nice 'usbind you
+are. Go' lumme, as good as they mike 'em! Nice thing ter go an' leave
+yer wife and children for a thing like thet! At your age, too! You
+oughter be ashimed of yerself. Why, it's like messin' abaht with your
+own daughter!'
+
+'By God!'--he ground his teeth with rage--'if yer don't leave me
+alone, I'll kick the life aht of yer!'
+
+'There!' she said, turning to the crowd--'there, see 'ow 'e treats me!
+Listen ter that! I've been 'is wife for twenty years, an' yer couldn't
+'ave 'ad a better wife, an' I've bore 'im nine children, yet say
+nothin' of a miscarriage, an' I've got another comin', an' thet's 'ow
+'e treats me! Nice 'usbind, ain't it?' She looked at him scornfully,
+then again at the surrounders as if for their opinion.
+
+'Well, I ain't goin' ter stay 'ere all night; get aht of the light!'
+He pushed aside the people who barred his way, and the one or two who
+growled a little at his roughness, looking at his angry face, were
+afraid to complain.
+
+'Look at 'im!' said his wife. ''E's afraid, 'e is. See 'im slinkin'
+awy like a bloomin' mongrel with 'is tail between 'is legs. Ugh!' She
+walked just behind him, shouting and brandishing her arms.
+
+'Yer dirty beast, you,' she yelled, 'ter go foolin' abaht with a
+little girl! Ugh! I wish yer wasn't my 'usbind; I wouldn't be seen
+drowned with yer, if I could 'elp it. Yer mike me sick ter look at
+yer.'
+
+The crowd followed them on both sides of the road, keeping at a
+discreet distance, but still eagerly listening.
+
+Jim turned on her once or twice and said:
+
+'Shut up!'
+
+But it only made her more angry. 'I tell yer I shan't shut up. I don't
+care 'oo knows it, you're a ----, you are! I'm ashimed the children
+should 'ave such a father as you. D'yer think I didn't know wot you
+was up ter them nights you was awy--courtin', yus, courtin'? You're a
+nice man, you are!'
+
+Jim did not answer her, but walked on. At last he turned round to the
+people who were following and said:
+
+'Na then, wot d'you want 'ere? You jolly well clear, or I'll give some
+of you somethin'!'
+
+They were mostly boys and women, and at his words they shrank back.
+
+''E's afraid ter sy anythin' ter me,' jeered Mrs. Blakeston. ''E's a
+beauty!'
+
+Jim entered his house, and she followed him till they came up into
+their room. Polly was giving the children their tea. They all started
+up as they saw their mother with her hair and clothes in disorder,
+blotches of dried blood on her face, and the long scratch-marks.
+
+'Oh, mother,' said Polly, 'wot is the matter?'
+
+''E's the matter.' she answered, pointing to her husband. 'It's
+through 'im I've got all this. Look at yer father, children; e's a
+father to be proud of, leavin' yer ter starve an' spendin' 'is week's
+money on a dirty little strumper.'
+
+Jim felt easier now he had not got so many strange eyes on him.
+
+'Now, look 'ere,' he said, 'I'm not goin' ter stand this much longer,
+so just you tike care.'
+
+'I ain't frightened of yer. I know yer'd like ter kill me, but yer'll
+get strung up if you do.'
+
+'Na, I won't kill yer, but if I 'ave any more of your sauce I'll do
+the next thing to it.'
+
+'Touch me if yer dare,' she said, 'I'll 'ave the law on you. An' I
+shouldn't mind 'ow many month's 'ard you got.'
+
+'Be quiet!' he said, and, closing his hand, gave her a heavy blow in
+the chest that made her stagger.
+
+'Oh, you ----!' she screamed.
+
+She seized the poker, and in a fury of rage rushed at him.
+
+'Would yer?' he said, catching hold of it and wrenching it from her
+grasp. He threw it to the end of the room and grappled with her. For a
+moment they swayed about from side to side, then with an effort he
+lifted her off her feet and threw her to the ground; but she caught
+hold of him and he came down on the top of her. She screamed as her
+head thumped down on the floor, and the children, who were standing
+huddled up in a corner, terrified, screamed too.
+
+Jim caught hold of his wife's head and began beating it against the
+floor.
+
+She cried out: 'You're killing me! Help! help!'
+
+Polly in terror ran up to her father and tried to pull him off.
+
+'Father, don't 'it 'er! Anythin' but thet--for God's sike!'
+
+'Leave me alone,' he said, 'or I'll give you somethin' too.'
+
+She caught hold of his arm, but Jim, still kneeling on his wife, gave
+Polly a backhanded blow which sent her staggering back.
+
+'Tike that!'
+
+Polly ran out of the room, downstairs to the first-floor front, where
+two men and two women were sitting at tea.
+
+'Oh, come an' stop father!' she cried. ''E's killin' mother!'
+
+'Why, wot's 'e doin'?'
+
+'Oh, 'e's got 'er on the floor, an' 'e's bangin' 'er 'ead. 'E's payin'
+'er aht for givin' Liza Kemp a 'idin'.'
+
+One of the women started up and said to her husband:
+
+'Come on, John, you go an' stop it.'
+
+'Don't you, John,' said the other man. 'When a man's givin' 'is wife
+socks it's best not ter interfere.'
+
+'But 'e's killin' 'er,' repeated Polly, trembling with fright.
+
+'Garn!' rejoined the man, 'she'll git over it; an' p'raps she deserves
+it, for all you know.'
+
+John sat undecided, looking now at Polly, now at his wife, and now at
+the other man.
+
+'Oh, do be quick--for God's sike!' said Polly.
+
+At that moment a sound as of something smashing was heard upstairs,
+and a woman's shriek. Mrs. Blakeston, in an effort to tear herself away
+from her husband, had knocked up against the wash-hand stand, and the
+whole thing had crashed down.
+
+'Go on, John,' said the wife.
+
+'No, I ain't goin'; I shan't do no good, an' 'e'll only round on me.'
+
+'Well, you are a bloomin' lot of cowards, thet's all I can say,'
+indignantly answered the wife. 'But I ain't goin' ter see a woman
+murdered; I'll go an' stop 'im.'
+
+With that she ran upstairs and threw open the door. Jim was still
+kneeling on his wife, hitting her furiously, while she was trying to
+protect her head and face with her hands.
+
+'Leave off!' shouted the woman.
+
+Jim looked up. ''Oo the devil are you?' he said.
+
+'Leave off, I tell yer. Aren't yer ashimed of yerself, knockin' a
+woman abaht like that?' And she sprang at him, seizing his fist.
+
+'Let go,' he said, 'or I'll give you a bit.'
+
+'Yer'd better not touch me,' she said. 'Yer dirty coward! Why, look at
+'er, she's almost senseless.'
+
+Jim stopped and gazed at his wife. He got up and gave her a kick.
+
+'Git up!' he said; but she remained huddled up on the floor, moaning
+feebly. The woman from downstairs went on her knees and took her head
+in her arms.
+
+'Never mind, Mrs. Blakeston. 'E's not goin' ter touch yer. 'Ere, drink
+this little drop of water.' Then turning to Jim, with infinite
+disdain: 'Yer dirty blackguard, you! If I was a man I'd give you
+something for this.'
+
+Jim put on his hat and went out, slamming the door, while the woman
+shouted after him: 'Good riddance!'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'Lord love yer,' said Mrs. Kemp, 'wot is the matter?'
+
+She had just come in, and opening the door had started back in
+surprise at seeing Liza on the bed, all tears. Liza made no answer,
+but cried as if her heart were breaking. Mrs. Kemp went up to her and
+tried to look at her face.
+
+'Don't cry, dearie; tell us wot it is.'
+
+Liza sat up and dried her eyes.
+
+'I am so un'appy!'
+
+'Wot 'ave yer been doin' ter yer fice? My!'
+
+'Nothin'.'
+
+'Garn! Yer can't 'ave got a fice like thet all by itself.'
+
+'I 'ad a bit of a scrimmage with a woman dahn the street,' sobbed out
+Liza.
+
+'She 'as give yer a doin'; an' yer all upset--an' look at yer eye! I
+brought in a little bit of stike for ter-morrer's dinner; you just cut
+a bit off an' put it over yer optic, that'll soon put it right. I
+always used ter do thet myself when me an' your poor father 'ad
+words.'
+
+'Oh, I'm all over in a tremble, an' my 'ead, oo, my 'ead does feel
+bad!'
+
+'I know wot yer want,' remarked Mrs. Kemp, nodding her head, 'an' it so
+'appens as I've got the very thing with me.' She pulled a medicine
+bottle out of her pocket, and taking out the cork smelt it. 'Thet's
+good stuff, none of your firewater or your methylated spirit. I don't
+often indulge in sich things, but when I do I likes to 'ave the best.'
+
+She handed the bottle to Liza, who took a mouthful and gave it her
+back; she had a drink herself, and smacked her lips.
+
+Thet's good stuff. 'Ave a drop more.'
+
+'Na,' said Liza, 'I ain't used ter drinkin' spirits.'
+
+She felt dull and miserable, and a heavy pain throbbed through her
+head. If she could only forget!
+
+'Na, I know you're not, but, bless your soul, thet won' 'urt yer.
+It'll do you no end of good. Why, often when I've been feelin' thet
+done up thet I didn't know wot ter do with myself, I've just 'ad a
+little drop of whisky or gin--I'm not partic'ler wot spirit it is--an'
+it's pulled me up wonderful.'
+
+Liza took another sip, a slightly longer one; it burnt as it went down
+her throat, and sent through her a feeling of comfortable warmth.
+
+'I really do think it's doin' me good,' she said, wiping her eyes and
+giving a sigh of relief as the crying ceased.
+
+'I knew it would. Tike my word for it, if people took a little drop of
+spirits in time, there'd be much less sickness abaht.'
+
+They sat for a while in silence, then Mrs. Kemp remarked:
+
+'Yer know, Liza, it strikes me as 'ow we could do with a drop more.
+You not bein' in the 'abit of tikin' anythin' I only brought just this
+little drop for me; an' it ain't took us long ter finish thet up. But
+as you're an invalid like we'll git a little more this time; it's sure
+ter turn aht useful.'
+
+'But you ain't got nothin' ter put it in.'
+
+'Yus, I 'ave,' answered Mrs. Kemp; 'there's thet bottle as they gives
+me at the 'orspital. Just empty the medicine aht into the pile, an'
+wash it aht, an' I'll tike it round to the pub myself.'
+
+Liza, when she was left alone, began to turn things over in her mind.
+She did not feel so utterly unhappy as before, for the things she had
+gone through seemed further away.
+
+'After all,' she said, 'it don't so much matter.'
+
+Mrs. Kemp came in.
+
+''Ave a little drop more, Liza.' she said.
+
+'Well, I don't mind if I do. I'll get some tumblers, shall I? There's
+no mistike abaht it,' she added, when she had taken a little, 'it do
+buck yer up.'
+
+'You're right, Liza--you're right. An' you wanted it badly. Fancy you
+'avin' a fight with a woman! Oh, I've 'ad some in my day, but then I
+wasn't a little bit of a thing like you is. I wish I'd been there, I
+wouldn't 'ave stood by an' looked on while my daughter was gettin' the
+worst of it; although I'm turned sixty-five, an' gettin' on for
+sixty-six, I'd 'ave said to 'er: "If you touch my daughter you'll 'ave
+me ter deal with, so just look aht!"'
+
+She brandished her glass, and that reminding her, she refilled it and
+Liza's.
+
+'Ah, Liza,' she remarked, 'you're a chip of the old block. Ter see you
+settin' there an' 'avin' your little drop, it mikes me feel as if I
+was livin' a better life. Yer used ter be rather 'ard on me, Liza,
+'cause I took a little drop on Saturday nights. An', mind, I don't sy
+I didn't tike a little drop too much sometimes--accidents will occur
+even in the best regulated of families, but wot I say is this--it's
+good stuff, I say, an' it don't 'urt yer.'
+
+'Buck up, old gal!' said Liza, filling the glasses, 'no 'eel-taps. I
+feel like a new woman now. I was thet dahn in the dumps--well, I
+shouldn't 'ave cared if I'd been at the bottom of the river, an'
+thet's the truth.'
+
+'You don't sy so,' replied her affectionate mother.
+
+'Yus, I do, an' I mean it too, but I don't feel like thet now. You're
+right, mother, when you're in trouble there's nothin' like a bit of
+spirits.'
+
+'Well, if I don't know, I dunno 'oo does, for the trouble I've 'ad, it
+'ud be enough to kill many women. Well, I've 'ad thirteen children,
+an' you can think wot thet was; everyone I 'ad I used ter sy I
+wouldn't 'ave no more--but one does, yer know. You'll 'ave a family
+some day, Liza, an' I shouldn't wonder if you didn't 'ave as many as
+me. We come from a very prodigal family, we do, we've all gone in ter
+double figures, except your Aunt Mary, who only 'ad three--but then
+she wasn't married, so it didn't count, like.'
+
+They drank each other's health. Everything was getting blurred to
+Liza, she was losing her head.
+
+'Yus,' went on Mrs. Kemp, 'I've 'ad thirteen children an' I'm proud of
+it. As your poor dear father used ter sy, it shows as 'ow one's got
+the blood of a Briton in one. Your poor dear father, 'e was a great
+'and at speakin' 'e was: 'e used ter speak at parliamentary
+meetin's--I really believe 'e'd 'ave been a Member of Parliament if
+'e'd been alive now. Well, as I was sayin', your father 'e used ter
+sy, "None of your small families for me, I don't approve of them,"
+says 'e. 'E was a man of very 'igh principles, an' by politics 'e was
+a Radical. "No," says 'e, when 'e got talkin', "when a man can 'ave a
+family risin' into double figures, it shows 'e's got the backbone of a
+Briton in 'im. That's the stuff as 'as built up England's nime and
+glory! When one thinks of the mighty British Hempire," says 'e, "on
+which the sun never sets from mornin' till night, one 'as ter be proud
+of 'isself, an' one 'as ter do one's duty in thet walk of life in
+which it 'as pleased Providence ter set one--an' every man's fust duty
+is ter get as many children as 'e bloomin' well can." Lord love
+yer--'e could talk, I can tell yer.'
+
+'Drink up, mother,' said Liza. 'You're not 'alf drinkin'.' She
+flourished the bottle. 'I don't care a twopanny 'ang for all them
+blokes; I'm quite 'appy, an' I don't want anythin' else.'
+
+'I can see you're my daughter now,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'When yer used ter
+round on me I used ter think as 'ow if I 'adn't carried yer for nine
+months, it must 'ave been some mistike, an' yer wasn't my daughter at
+all. When you come ter think of it, a man 'e don't know if it's 'is
+child or somebody else's, but yer can't deceive a woman like thet. Yer
+couldn't palm off somebody else's kid on 'er.'
+
+'I am beginnin' ter feel quite lively,' said Liza. 'I dunno wot it is,
+but I feel as if I wanted to laugh till I fairly split my sides.'
+
+And she began to sing: 'For 'e's a jolly good feller--for 'e's a jolly
+good feller!'
+
+Her dress was all disarranged; her face covered with the scars of
+scratches, and clots of blood had fixed under her nose; her eye had
+swollen up so that it was nearly closed, and red; her hair was hanging
+over her face and shoulders, and she laughed stupidly and leered with
+heavy, sodden ugliness.
+
+    'Disy, Disy! I can't afford a kerridge.
+     But you'll look neat, on the seat
+       Of a bicycle mide for two.'
+
+She shouted out the tunes, beating time on the table, and her mother,
+grinning, with her thin, grey hair hanging dishevelled over her head,
+joined in with her weak, cracked voice--
+
+    'Oh, dem golden kippers, oh!'
+
+Then Liza grew more melancholy and broke into 'Auld Lang Syne'.
+
+    'Should old acquaintance be forgot
+       And never brought to mind?
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+       For old lang syne'.
+
+Finally they both grew silent, and in a little while there came a
+snore from Mrs. Kemp; her head fell forward to her chest; Liza tumbled
+from her chair on to the bed, and sprawling across it fell asleep.
+
+    '_Although I am drunk and bad, be you kind,
+    Cast a glance at this heart which is bewildered and distressed.
+    O God, take away from my mind my cry and my complaint.
+    Offer wine, and take sorrow from my remembrance.
+    Offer wine._'
+
+
+
+
+12
+
+
+About the middle of the night Liza woke; her mouth was hot and dry,
+and a sharp, cutting pain passed through her head as she moved. Her
+mother had evidently roused herself, for she was lying in bed by her
+side, partially undressed, with all the bedclothes rolled round her.
+Liza shivered in the cold night, and taking off some of her
+things--her boots, her skirt, and jacket--got right into bed; she
+tried to get some of the blanket from her mother, but as she pulled
+Mrs. Kemp gave a growl in her sleep and drew the clothes more tightly
+round her. So Liza put over herself her skirt and a shawl, which was
+lying over the end of the bed, and tried to go to sleep.
+
+But she could not; her head and hands were broiling hot, and she was
+terribly thirsty; when she lifted herself up to get a drink of water
+such a pang went through her head that she fell back on the bed
+groaning, and lay there with beating heart. And strange pains that she
+did not know went through her. Then a cold shiver seemed to rise in
+the very marrow of her bones and run down every artery and vein,
+freezing the blood; her skin puckered up, and drawing up her legs she
+lay huddled together in a heap, the shawl wrapped tightly round her,
+and her teeth chattering. Shivering, she whispered:
+
+'Oh, I'm so cold, so cold. Mother, give me some clothes; I shall die
+of the cold. Oh, I'm freezing!'
+
+But after awhile the cold seemed to give way, and a sudden heat seized
+her, flushing her face, making her break out into perspiration, so
+that she threw everything off and loosened the things about her neck.
+
+'Give us a drink,' she said. 'Oh, I'd give anythin' for a little drop
+of water!'
+
+There was no one to hear; Mrs. Kemp continued to sleep heavily,
+occasionally breaking out into a little snore.
+
+Liza remained there, now shivering with cold, now panting for breath,
+listening to the regular, heavy breathing by her side, and in her pain
+she sobbed. She pulled at her pillow and said:
+
+'Why can't I go to sleep? Why can't I sleep like 'er?'
+
+And the darkness was awful; it was a heavy, ghastly blackness, that
+seemed palpable, so that it frightened her and she looked for relief
+at the faint light glimmering through the window from a distant
+street-lamp. She thought the night would never end--the minutes seemed
+like hours, and she wondered how she should live through till morning.
+And strange pains that she did not know went through her.
+
+Still the night went on, the darkness continued, cold and horrible,
+and her mother breathed loudly and steadily by her side.
+
+At last with the morning sleep came; but the sleep was almost worse
+than the wakefulness, for it was accompanied by ugly, disturbing
+dreams. Liza thought she was going through the fight with her enemy,
+and Mrs. Blakeston grew enormous in size, and multiplied, so that every
+way she turned the figure confronted her. And she began running away,
+and she ran and ran till she found herself reckoning up an account she
+had puzzled over in the morning, and she did it backwards and
+forwards, upwards and downwards, starting here, starting there, and
+the figures got mixed up with other things, and she had to begin over
+again, and everything jumbled up, and her head whirled, till finally,
+with a start, she woke.
+
+The darkness had given way to a cold, grey dawn, her uncovered legs
+were chilled to the bone, and by her side she heard again the regular,
+nasal breathing of the drunkard.
+
+For a long while she lay where she was, feeling very sick and ill, but
+better than in the night. At last her mother woke.
+
+'Liza!' she called.
+
+'Yus, mother,' she answered feebly.
+
+'Git us a cup of tea, will yer?'
+
+'I can't, mother, I'm ill.'
+
+'Garn!' said Mrs. Kemp, in surprise. Then looking at her: 'Swop me bob,
+wot's up with yer? Why, yer cheeks is flushed, an' yer forehead--it is
+'ot! Wot's the matter with yer, gal?'
+
+'I dunno,' said Liza. 'I've been thet bad all night, I thought I was
+goin' ter die.'
+
+'I know wot it is,' said Mrs. Kemp, shaking her head; 'the fact is, you
+ain't used ter drinkin', an' of course it's upset yer. Now me, why I'm
+as fresh as a disy. Tike my word, there ain't no good in teetotalism;
+it finds yer aht in the end, an' it's found you aht.'
+
+Mrs. Kemp considered it a judgment of Providence. She got up and mixed
+some whisky and water.
+
+''Ere, drink this,' she said. 'When one's 'ad a drop too much at
+night, there's nothin' like havin' a drop more in the mornin' ter put
+one right. It just acts like magic.'
+
+'Tike it awy,' said Liza, turning from it in disgust; 'the smell of it
+gives me the sick. I'll never touch spirits again.'
+
+'Ah, thet's wot we all says sometime in our lives, but we does, an'
+wot's more we can't do withaht it. Why, me, the 'ard life I've 'ad--.'
+It is unnecessary to repeat Mrs. Kemp's repetitions.
+
+Liza did not get up all day. Tom came to inquire after her, and was
+told she was very ill. Liza plaintively asked whether anyone else had
+been, and sighed a little when her mother answered no. But she felt
+too ill to think much or trouble much about anything. The fever came
+again as the day wore on, and the pains in her head grew worse. Her
+mother came to bed, and quickly went off to sleep, leaving Liza to
+bear her agony alone. She began to have frightful pains all over her,
+and she held her breath to prevent herself from crying out and waking
+her mother. She clutched the sheets in her agony, and at last, about
+six o'clock in the morning, she could bear it no longer, and in the
+anguish of labour screamed out, and woke her mother.
+
+Mrs. Kemp was frightened out of her wits. Going upstairs she woke the
+woman who lived on the floor above her. Without hesitating, the good
+lady put on a skirt and came down.
+
+'She's 'ad a miss,' she said, after looking at Liza. 'Is there anyone
+you could send to the 'orspital?'
+
+'Na, I dunno 'oo I could get at this hour?'
+
+'Well, I'll git my old man ter go.'
+
+She called her husband, and sent him off. She was a stout, middle-aged
+woman, rough-visaged and strong-armed. Her name was Mrs. Hodges.
+
+'It's lucky you came ter me,' she said, when she had settled down. 'I
+go aht nursin', yer know, so I know all abaht it.'
+
+'Well, you surprise me,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'I didn't know as Liza was
+thet way. She never told me nothin' abaht it.'
+
+'D'yer know 'oo it is 'as done it?'
+
+'Now you ask me somethin' I don't know,' replied Mrs. Kemp. 'But now I
+come ter think of it, it must be thet there Tom. 'E's been keepin'
+company with Liza. 'E's a single man, so they'll be able ter get
+married--thet's somethin'.'
+
+'It ain't Tom,' feebly said Liza.
+
+'Not 'im; 'oo is it, then?'
+
+Liza did not answer.
+
+'Eh?' repeated the mother, ''oo is it?'
+
+Liza lay still without speaking.
+
+'Never mind, Mrs. Kemp,' said Mrs. Hodges, 'don't worry 'er now; you'll
+be able ter find aht all abaht it when she gits better.'
+
+For a while the two women sat still, waiting the doctor's coming, and
+Liza lay gazing vacantly at the wall, panting for breath. Sometimes
+Jim crossed her mind, and she opened her mouth to call for him, but in
+her despair she restrained herself.
+
+The doctor came.
+
+'D'you think she's bad, doctor?' asked Mrs. Hodges.
+
+'I'm afraid she is rather,' he answered. 'I'll come in again this
+evening.'
+
+'Oh, doctor,' said Mrs. Kemp, as he was going, 'could yer give me
+somethin' for my rheumatics? I'm a martyr to rheumatism, an' these
+cold days I 'ardly knows wot ter do with myself. An', doctor, could
+you let me 'ave some beef-tea? My 'usbind's dead, an' of course I
+can't do no work with my daughter ill like this, an' we're very
+short--.'
+
+The day passed, and in the evening Mrs. Hodges, who had been attending
+to her own domestic duties, came downstairs again. Mrs. Kemp was on the
+bed sleeping.
+
+'I was just 'avin' a little nap,' she said to Mrs. Hodges, on waking.
+
+''Ow is the girl?' asked that lady.
+
+'Oh,' answered Mrs. Kemp, 'my rheumatics 'as been thet bad I really
+'aven't known wot ter do with myself, an' now Liza can't rub me I'm
+worse than ever. It is unfortunate thet she should get ill just now
+when I want so much attendin' ter myself, but there, it's just my
+luck!'
+
+Mrs. Hodges went over and looked at Liza; she was lying just as when
+she left in the morning, her cheeks flushed, her mouth open for
+breath, and tiny beads of sweat stood on her forehead.
+
+''Ow are yer, ducky?' asked Mrs. Hodges; but Liza did not answer.
+
+'It's my belief she's unconscious,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'I've been askin'
+'er 'oo it was as done it, but she don't seem to 'ear wot I say. It's
+been a great shock ter me, Mrs. 'Odges.'
+
+'I believe you,' replied that lady, sympathetically.
+
+'Well, when you come in and said wot it was, yer might 'ave knocked
+me dahn with a feather. I knew no more than the dead wot 'ad
+'appened.'
+
+'I saw at once wot it was,' said Mrs. Hodges, nodding her head.
+
+'Yus, of course, you knew. I expect you've 'ad a great deal of
+practice one way an' another.'
+
+'You're right, Mrs. Kemp, you're right. I've been on the job now for
+nearly twenty years, an' if I don't know somethin' abaht it I ought.'
+
+'D'yer finds it pays well?'
+
+'Well, Mrs. Kemp, tike it all in all, I ain't got no grounds for
+complaint. I'm in the 'abit of askin' five shillings, an' I will say
+this, I don't think it's too much for wot I do.'
+
+The news of Liza's illness had quickly spread, and more than once in
+the course of the day a neighbour had come to ask after her. There was
+a knock at the door now, and Mrs. Hodges opened it. Tom stood on the
+threshold asking to come in.
+
+'Yus, you can come,' said Mrs. Kemp.
+
+He advanced on tiptoe, so as to make no noise, and for a while stood
+silently looking at Liza. Mrs. Hodges was by his side.
+
+'Can I speak to 'er?' he whispered.
+
+'She can't 'ear you.'
+
+He groaned.
+
+'D'yer think she'll get arright?' he asked.
+
+Mrs. Hodges shrugged her shoulders.
+
+'I shouldn't like ter give an opinion,' she said, cautiously.
+
+Tom bent over Liza, and, blushing, kissed her; then, without speaking
+further, went out of the room.
+
+'Thet's the young man as was courtin' 'er,' said Mrs. Kemp, pointing
+over her shoulder with her thumb.
+
+Soon after the Doctor came.
+
+'Wot do yer think of 'er, doctor?' said Mrs. Hodges, bustling forwards
+authoritatively in her position of midwife and sick-nurse.
+
+'I'm afraid she's very bad.'
+
+'D'yer think she's goin' ter die?' she asked, dropping her voice to a
+whisper.
+
+'I'm afraid so!'
+
+As the doctor sat down by Liza's side Mrs. Hodges turned round and
+significantly nodded to Mrs. Kemp, who put her handkerchief to her
+eyes. Then she went outside to the little group waiting at the door.
+
+'Wot does the doctor sy?' they asked, among them Tom.
+
+''E says just wot I've been sayin' all along; I knew she wouldn't
+live.'
+
+And Tom burst out: 'Oh, Liza!'
+
+As she retired a woman remarked:
+
+'Mrs. 'Odges is very clever, I think.'
+
+'Yus,' remarked another, 'she got me through my last confinement
+simply wonderful. If it come to choosin' between 'em I'd back Mrs.
+'Odges against forty doctors.'
+
+'Ter tell yer the truth, so would I. I've never known 'er wrong yet.'
+
+Mrs. Hodges sat down beside Mrs. Kemp and proceeded to comfort her.
+
+'Why don't yer tike a little drop of brandy ter calm yer nerves, Mrs.
+Kemp?' she said, 'you want it.'
+
+'I was just feelin' rather faint, an' I couldn't 'elp thinkin' as 'ow
+twopenneth of whisky 'ud do me good.'
+
+'Na, Mrs. Kemp,' said Mrs. Hodges, earnestly, putting her hand on the
+other's arm. 'You tike my tip--when you're queer there's nothin' like
+brandy for pullin' yer togither. I don't object to whisky myself, but
+as a medicine yer can't beat brandy.'
+
+'Well, I won't set up myself as knowin' better than you Mrs. 'Odges;
+I'll do wot you think right.'
+
+Quite accidentally there was some in the room, and Mrs. Kemp poured it
+out for herself and her friend.
+
+'I'm not in the 'abit of tikin' anythin' when I'm aht on business,'
+she apologized, 'but just ter keep you company I don't mind if I do.'
+
+'Your 'ealth. Mrs. 'Odges.'
+
+'Sime ter you, an' thank yer, Mrs. Kemp.'
+
+Liza lay still, breathing very quietly, her eyes closed. The doctor
+kept his fingers on her pulse.
+
+'I've been very unfortunate of lite,' remarked Mrs. Hodges, as she
+licked her lips, 'this mikes the second death I've 'ad in the last ten
+days--women, I mean, of course I don't count bibies.'
+
+'Yer don't sy so.'
+
+'Of course the other one--well, she was only a prostitute, so it
+didn't so much matter. It ain't like another woman is it?'
+
+'Na, you're right.'
+
+'Still, one don't like 'em ter die, even if they are thet. One mustn't
+be too 'ard on 'em.'
+
+'Strikes me you've got a very kind 'eart, Mrs. 'Odges,' said Mrs. Kemp.
+
+'I 'ave thet; an' I often says it 'ud be better for my peace of mind
+an' my business if I 'adn't. I 'ave ter go through a lot, I do; but I
+can say this for myself, I always gives satisfaction, an' thet's
+somethin' as all lidies in my line can't say.'
+
+They sipped their brandy for a while.
+
+'It's a great trial ter me that this should 'ave 'appened,' said Mrs.
+Kemp, coming to the subject that had been disturbing her for some
+time. 'Mine's always been a very respectable family, an' such a thing
+as this 'as never 'appened before. No, Mrs. 'Odges, I was lawfully
+married in church, an' I've got my marriage lines now ter show I was,
+an' thet one of my daughters should 'ave gone wrong in this way--well,
+I can't understand it. I give 'er a good education, an' she 'ad all
+the comforts of a 'ome. She never wanted for nothin'; I worked myself
+to the bone ter keep 'er in luxury, an' then thet she should go an'
+disgrace me like this!'
+
+'I understand wot yer mean. Mrs. Kemp.'
+
+'I can tell you my family was very respectable; an' my 'usband, 'e
+earned twenty-five shillings a week, an' was in the sime plice
+seventeen years; an' 'is employers sent a beautiful wreath ter put on
+'is coffin; an' they tell me they never 'ad such a good workman an'
+sich an 'onest man before. An' me! Well, I can sy this--I've done my
+duty by the girl, an' she's never learnt anythin' but good from me. Of
+course I ain't always been in wot yer might call flourishing
+circumstances, but I've always set her a good example, as she could
+tell yer so 'erself if she wasn't speechless.'
+
+Mrs. Kemp paused for a moment's reflection.
+
+'As they sy in the Bible,' she finished, 'it's enough ter mike one's
+grey 'airs go dahn into the ground in sorrer. I can show yer my
+marriage certificate. Of course one doesn't like ter say much, because
+of course she's very bad; but if she got well I should 'ave given 'er
+a talkin' ter.'
+
+There was another knock.
+
+'Do go an' see 'oo thet is; I can't, on account of my rheumatics.'
+
+Mrs. Hodges opened the door. It was Jim.
+
+He was very white, and the blackness of his hair and beard,
+contrasting with the deathly pallor of his face, made him look
+ghastly. Mrs. Hodges stepped back.
+
+''Oo's 'e?' she said, turning to Mrs. Kemp.
+
+Jim pushed her aside and went up to the bed.
+
+'Doctor, is she very bad?' he asked.
+
+The doctor looked at him questioningly.
+
+Jim whispered: 'It was me as done it. She ain't goin' ter die, is
+she?'
+
+The doctor nodded.
+
+'O God! wot shall I do? It was my fault! I wish I was dead!'
+
+Jim took the girl's head in his hands, and the tears burst from his
+eyes.
+
+'She ain't dead yet, is she?'
+
+'She's just living,' said the doctor.
+
+Jim bent down.
+
+'Liza, Liza, speak ter me! Liza, say you forgive me! Oh, speak ter
+me!'
+
+His voice was full of agony. The doctor spoke.
+
+'She can't hear you.'
+
+'Oh, she must hear me! Liza! Liza!'
+
+He sank on his knees by the bedside.
+
+They all remained silent: Liza lying stiller than ever, her breast
+unmoved by the feeble respiration, Jim looking at her very mournfully;
+the doctor grave, with his fingers on the pulse. The two women looked
+at Jim.
+
+'Fancy it bein' 'im!' said Mrs. Kemp. 'Strike me lucky, ain't 'e a
+sight!'
+
+'You 'ave got 'er insured, Mrs. Kemp?' asked the midwife. She could
+bear the silence no longer.
+
+'Trust me fur thet!' replied the good lady. 'I've 'ad 'er insured ever
+since she was born. Why, only the other dy I was sayin' ter myself
+thet all thet money 'ad been wisted, but you see it wasn't; yer never
+know yer luck, you see!'
+
+'Quite right, Mrs. Kemp; I'm a rare one for insurin'. It's a great
+thing. I've always insured all my children.'
+
+'The way I look on it is this,' said Mrs. Kemp--'wotever yer do when
+they're alive, an' we all know as children is very tryin' sometimes,
+you should give them a good funeral when they dies. Thet's my motto,
+an' I've always acted up to it.'
+
+'Do you deal with Mr. Stearman?' asked Mrs. Hodges.
+
+'No, Mrs. 'Odges, for undertikin' give me Mr. Footley every time. In the
+black line 'e's fust an' the rest nowhere!'
+
+'Well, thet's very strange now--thet's just wot I think. Mr. Footley
+does 'is work well, an' 'e's very reasonable. I'm a very old customer
+of 'is, an' 'e lets me 'ave things as cheap as anybody.'
+
+'Does 'e indeed! Well Mrs. 'Odges if it ain't askin' too much of yer, I
+should look upon it as very kind if you'd go an' mike the arrangements
+for Liza.'
+
+'Why, certainly, Mrs. Kemp. I'm always willin' ter do a good turn to
+anybody, if I can.'
+
+'I want it done very respectable,' said Mrs. Kemp; 'I'm not goin' ter
+stint for nothin' for my daughter's funeral. I like plumes, you know,
+although they is a bit extra.'
+
+'Never you fear, Mrs. Kemp, it shall be done as well as if it was for
+my own 'usbind, an' I can't say more than thet. Mr. Footley thinks a
+deal of me, 'e does! Why, only the other dy as I was goin' inter 'is
+shop 'e says "Good mornin', Mrs. 'Odges." "Good mornin', Mr. Footley,"
+says I. "You've jest come in the nick of time," says 'e. "This
+gentleman an' myself," pointin' to another gentleman as was standin'
+there, "we was 'avin' a bit of an argument. Now you're a very
+intelligent woman, Mrs. 'Odges, and a good customer too." "I can say
+thet for myself," say I, "I gives yer all the work I can." "I believe
+you," says 'e. "Well," 'e says, "now which do you think? Does hoak
+look better than helm, or does helm look better than hoak? Hoak
+_versus_ helm, thet's the question." "Well, Mr. Footley," says I, "for
+my own private opinion, when you've got a nice brass plite in the
+middle, an' nice brass 'andles each end, there's nothin' like hoak."
+"Quite right," says 'e, "thet's wot I think; for coffins give me hoak
+any day, an' I 'ope," says 'e, "when the Lord sees fit ter call me to
+'Imself, I shall be put in a hoak coffin myself." "Amen," says I.'
+
+'I like hoak,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'My poor 'usband 'e 'ad a hoak coffin.
+We did 'ave a job with 'im, I can tell yer. You know 'e 'ad dropsy,
+an' 'e swell up--oh, 'e did swell; 'is own mother wouldn't 'ave known
+'im. Why, 'is leg swell up till it was as big round as 'is body, swop
+me bob, it did.'
+
+'Did it indeed!' ejaculated Mrs. Hodges.
+
+'Yus, an' when 'e died they sent the coffin up. I didn't 'ave Mr.
+Footley at thet time; we didn't live 'ere then, we lived in Battersea,
+an' all our undertikin' was done by Mr. Brownin'; well, 'e sent the
+coffin up, an' we got my old man in, but we couldn't get the lid down,
+he was so swell up. Well, Mr. Brownin', 'e was a great big man,
+thirteen stone if 'e was a ounce. Well, 'e stood on the coffin, an' a
+young man 'e 'ad with 'im stood on it too, an' the lid simply wouldn't
+go dahn; so Mr. Browning', 'e said, "Jump on, missus," so I was in my
+widow's weeds, yer know, but we 'ad ter git it dahn, so I stood on it,
+an' we all jumped, an' at last we got it to, an' screwed it; but,
+lor', we did 'ave a job; I shall never forget it.'
+
+Then all was silence. And a heaviness seemed to fill the air like a
+grey blight, cold and suffocating; and the heaviness was Death. They
+felt the presence in the room, and they dared not move, they dared not
+draw their breath. The silence was terrifying.
+
+Suddenly a sound was heard--a loud rattle. It was from the bed and
+rang through the room, piercing the stillness.
+
+The doctor opened one of Liza's eyes and touched it, then he laid on
+her breast the hand he had been holding, and drew the sheet over her
+head.
+
+Jim turned away with a look of intense weariness on his face, and the
+two women began weeping silently. The darkness was sinking before the
+day, and a dim, grey light came through the window. The lamp
+spluttered out.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Liza of Lambeth, by W. Somerset Maugham
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Liza of Lambeth, by W. Somerset Maugham
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+Title: Liza of Lambeth
+
+Author: W. Somerset Maugham
+
+Release Date: August 12, 2005 [EBook #16517]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIZA OF LAMBETH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Mark C. Orton, Sankar Viswanathan and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
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+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+<h1>                        <i>Liza of Lambeth</i></h1>
+
+
+
+                           <h2>SOMERSET MAUGHAM</h2>
+                           <p>&nbsp;</p>
+                           <p>&nbsp;</p>
+                           <p>&nbsp;</p>
+                           <p class="center">&nbsp;                              </p>
+
+
+                           <h3>PENGUIN BOOKS</h3>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+                           <p>&nbsp;</p>
+                           <p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+                           <p class="center">Published by the Penguin Group
+</p>
+<p class="center">First published in Great Britain by William Heinemann Ltd 1897</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<table summary="Contents">
+  <tr>
+    <td><a href="#chapter_1">Chapter 1 </a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><a href="#chapter_2">Chapter 2 </a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><a href="#chapter_3">Chapter 3 </a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><a href="#chapter_4">Chapter 4 </a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><a href="#chapter_5">Chapter 5 </a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><a href="#chapter_6">Chapter 6 </a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><a href="#chapter_7">Chapter 7 </a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><a href="#chapter_8">Chapter 8 </a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><a href="#chapter_9">Chapter 9 </a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><a href="#chapter_10">Chapter 10 </a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><a href="#chapter_11">Chapter 11</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><a href="#chapter_12">Chapter 12</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span> </p>
+<h2><a name="chapter_1" id="chapter_1"></a>1</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was the first Saturday afternoon in August; it had been broiling
+hot all day, with a cloudless sky, and the sun had been beating down
+on the houses, so that the top rooms were like ovens; but now with the
+approach of evening it was cooler, and everyone in Vere Street was out
+of doors.</p>
+
+<p>Vere street, Lambeth, is a short, straight street leading out of the
+Westminster Bridge Road; it has forty houses on one side and forty
+houses on the other, and these eighty houses are very much more like
+one another than ever peas are like peas, or young ladies like young
+ladies. They are newish, three-storied buildings of dingy grey brick
+with slate roofs, and they are perfectly flat, without a bow-window or
+even a projecting cornice or window-sill to break the straightness of
+the line from one end of the street to the other.</p>
+
+<p>This Saturday afternoon the street was full of life; no traffic came
+down Vere Street, and the cemented space between the pavements was
+given up to children. Several games of cricket were being played by
+wildly excited boys, using coats for wickets, an old tennis-ball or a
+bundle of rags tied together for a ball, and, generally, an old
+broomstick for bat. The wicket was so large and the bat so small that
+the man in was always getting bowled, when heated quarrels would
+arise, the batter absolutely refusing to go out and the bowler
+absolutely insisting on going in. The girls were more peaceable; they
+were chiefly employed in skipping, and only abused one another mildly
+when the rope was not properly turned or the skipper did not jump
+sufficiently high. Worst off of all were the very young children, for
+there had been no rain for weeks, and the street was as dry and clean
+as a covered court, and, in the lack of mud to wallow in, they sat <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span>
+about the road, disconsolate as poets. The number of babies was
+prodigious; they sprawled about everywhere, on the pavement, round the
+doors, and about their mothers' skirts. The grown-ups were gathered
+round the open doors; there were usually two women squatting on the
+doorstep, and two or three more seated on either side on chairs; they
+were invariably nursing babies, and most of them showed clear signs
+that the present object of the maternal care would be soon ousted by a
+new arrival. Men were less numerous but such as there were leant
+against the walls, smoking, or sat on the sills of the ground-floor
+windows. It was the dead season in Vere Street as much as in
+Belgravia, and really if it had not been for babies just come or just
+about to come, and an opportune murder in a neighbouring doss-house,
+there would have been nothing whatever to talk about. As it was, the
+little groups talked quietly, discussing the atrocity or the merits of
+the local midwives, comparing the circumstances of their various
+confinements.</p>
+
+<p>'You'll be 'avin' your little trouble soon, eh, Polly?' asked one good
+lady of another.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I reckon I've got another two months ter go yet,' answered Polly.</p>
+
+<p>'Well,' said a third. 'I wouldn't 'ave thought you'd go so long by the
+look of yer!'</p>
+
+<p>'I 'ope you'll have it easier this time, my dear,' said a very stout
+old person, a woman of great importance.</p>
+
+<p>'She said she wasn't goin' to 'ave no more, when the last one come.'
+This remark came from Polly's husband.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah,' said the stout old lady, who was in the business, and boasted
+vast experience. 'That's wot they all says; but, Lor' bless yer, they
+don't mean it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I've got three, and I'm not goin' to 'ave no more bli'me if I
+will; 'tain't good enough&mdash;that's wot I says.'</p>
+
+<p>'You're abaht right there, ole gal,' said Polly, 'My word,  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span> 'Arry, if
+you 'ave any more I'll git a divorce, that I will.'</p>
+
+<p>At that moment an organ-grinder turned the corner and came down the
+street.</p>
+
+<p>'Good biz; 'ere's an organ!' cried half a dozen people at once.</p>
+
+<p>The organ-man was an Italian, with a shock of black hair and a
+ferocious moustache. Drawing his organ to a favourable spot, he
+stopped, released his shoulder from the leather straps by which he
+dragged it, and cocking his large soft hat on the side of his head,
+began turning the handle. It was a lively tune, and in less than no
+time a little crowd had gathered round to listen, chiefly the young
+men and the maidens, for the married ladies were never in a fit state
+to dance, and therefore disinclined to trouble themselves to stand
+round the organ. There was a moment's hesitation at opening the ball;
+then one girl said to another:</p>
+
+<p>'Come on, Florrie, you and me ain't shy; we'll begin, and bust it!'</p>
+
+<p>The two girls took hold of one another, one acting gentleman, the
+other lady; three or four more pairs of girls immediately joined them,
+and they began a waltz. They held themselves very upright; and with an
+air of grave dignity which was quite impressive, glided slowly about,
+making their steps with the utmost precision, bearing themselves with
+sufficient decorum for a court ball. After a while the men began to
+itch for a turn, and two of them, taking hold of one another in the
+most approved fashion, waltzed round the circle with the gravity of
+judges.</p>
+
+<p>All at once there was a cry: 'There's Liza!' And several members of
+the group turned and called out: 'Oo, look at Liza!'</p>
+
+<p>The dancers stopped to see the sight, and the organ-grinder, having
+come to the end of his tune, ceased turning the handle and looked to
+see what was the excitement.</p>
+
+<p>'Oo, Liza!' they called out. 'Look at Liza; oo, I sy!'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span> </p>
+
+<p>It was a young girl of about eighteen, with dark eyes, and an enormous
+fringe, puffed-out and curled and frizzed, covering her whole forehead
+from side to side, and coming down to meet her eyebrows. She was
+dressed in brilliant violet, with great lappets of velvet, and she had
+on her head an enormous black hat covered with feathers.</p>
+
+<p>'I sy, ain't she got up dossy?' called out the groups at the doors, as
+she passed.</p>
+
+<p>'Dressed ter death, and kill the fashion; that's wot I calls it.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza saw what a sensation she was creating; she arched her back and
+lifted her head, and walked down the street, swaying her body from
+side to side, and swaggering along as though the whole place belonged
+to her.</p>
+
+<p>''Ave yer bought the street, Bill?' shouted one youth; and then half a
+dozen burst forth at once, as if by inspiration:</p>
+
+<p>'Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!'</p>
+
+<p>It was immediately taken up by a dozen more, and they all yelled it
+out:</p>
+
+<p>'Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road. Yah, ah, knocked 'em in the Old
+Kent Road!'</p>
+
+<p>'Oo, Liza!' they shouted; the whole street joined in, and they gave
+long, shrill, ear-piercing shrieks and strange calls, that rung down
+the street and echoed back again.</p>
+
+<p>'Hextra special!' called out a wag.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Liza! Oo! Ooo!' yells and whistles, and then it thundered forth
+again:</p>
+
+<p>'Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!'</p>
+
+<p>Liza put on the air of a conquering hero, and sauntered on, enchanted
+at the uproar. She stuck out her elbows and jerked her head on one
+side, and said to herself as she passed through the bellowing crowd:</p>
+
+<p>'This is jam!'</p>
+
+<p>'Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span> </p>
+
+<p>When she came to the group round the barrel-organ, one of the girls
+cried out to her:</p>
+
+<p>'Is that yer new dress, Liza?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, it don't look like my old one, do it?' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Where did yer git it?' asked another friend, rather enviously.</p>
+
+<p>'Picked it up in the street, of course,' scornfully answered Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'I believe it's the same one as I saw in the pawnbroker's dahn the
+road,' said one of the men, to tease her.</p>
+
+<p>'Thet's it; but wot was you doin' in there? Pledgin' yer shirt, or was
+it yer trousers?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yah, I wouldn't git a second-'and dress at a pawnbroker's!'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn!' said Liza indignantly. 'I'll swipe yer over the snitch if yer
+talk ter me. I got the mayterials in the West Hend, didn't I? And I
+'ad it mide up by my Court Dressmiker, so you jolly well dry up, old
+jellybelly.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn!' was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>Liza had been so intent on her new dress and the comment it was
+exciting that she had not noticed the organ.</p>
+
+<p>'Oo, I say, let's 'ave some dancin',' she said as soon as she saw it.
+'Come on, Sally,' she added, to one of the girls, 'you an' me'll dance
+togither. Grind away, old cock!'</p>
+
+<p>The man turned on a new tune, and the organ began to play the
+Intermezzo from the 'Cavalleria'; other couples quickly followed
+Liza's example, and they began to waltz round with the same solemnity
+as before; but Liza outdid them all; if the others were as stately as
+queens, she was as stately as an empress; the gravity and dignity with
+which she waltzed were something appalling, you felt that the minuet
+was a frolic in comparison; it would have been a fitting measure to
+tread round the grave of a <i>premi&egrave;re danseuse</i>, or at the funeral of a
+professional humorist. And the graces she put on, the languor of the
+eyes, the contemptuous  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> curl of the lips, the exquisite turn of the
+hand, the dainty arching of the foot! You felt there could be no
+questioning her right to the tyranny of Vere Street.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she stopped short, and disengaged herself from her companion.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I sy,' she said, 'this is too bloomin' slow; it gives me the
+sick.'</p>
+
+<p>That is not precisely what she said, but it is impossible always to
+give the exact unexpurgated words of Liza and the other personages of
+the story, the reader is therefore entreated with his thoughts to
+piece out the necessary imperfections of the dialogue.</p>
+
+<p>'It's too bloomin' slow,' she said again; 'it gives me the sick. Let's
+'ave somethin' a bit more lively than this 'ere waltz. You stand over
+there, Sally, an' we'll show 'em 'ow ter skirt dance.'</p>
+
+<p>They all stopped waltzing.</p>
+
+<p>'Talk of the ballet at the Canterbury and South London. You just wite
+till you see the ballet at Vere Street, Lambeth&mdash;we'll knock 'em!'</p>
+
+<p>She went up to the organ-grinder.</p>
+
+<p>'Na then, Italiano,' she said to him, 'you buck up; give us a tune
+that's got some guts in it! See?'</p>
+
+<p>She caught hold of his big hat and squashed it down over his eyes. The
+man grinned from ear to ear, and, touching the little catch at the
+side, began to play a lively tune such as Liza had asked for.</p>
+
+<p>The men had fallen out, but several girls had put themselves in
+position, in couples, standing face to face; and immediately the music
+struck up, they began. They held up their skirts on each side, so as
+to show their feet, and proceeded to go through the difficult steps
+and motions of the dance. Liza was right; they could not have done it
+better in a trained ballet. But the best dancer of them all was Liza;
+she threw her whole soul into it; forgetting the stiff bearing which
+ <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span> she had thought proper to the waltz, and casting off its elaborate
+graces, she gave herself up entirely to the present pleasure.
+Gradually the other couples stood aside, so that Liza and Sally were
+left alone. They paced it carefully, watching each other's steps, and
+as if by instinct performing corresponding movements, so as to make
+the whole a thing of symmetry.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm abaht done,' said Sally, blowing and puffing. 'I've 'ad enough of
+it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Go on, Liza!' cried out a dozen voices when Sally stopped.</p>
+
+<p>She gave no sign of having heard them other than calmly to continue
+her dance. She glided through the steps, and swayed about, and
+manipulated her skirt, all with the most charming grace imaginable,
+then, the music altering, she changed the style of her dancing, her
+feet moved more quickly, and did not keep so strictly to the ground.
+She was getting excited at the admiration of the onlookers, and her
+dance grew wilder and more daring. She lifted her skirts higher,
+brought in new and more difficult movements into her improvisation,
+kicking up her legs she did the wonderful twist, backwards and
+forwards, of which the dancer is proud.</p>
+
+<p>'Look at 'er legs!' cried one of the men.</p>
+
+<p>'Look at 'er stockin's!' shouted another; and indeed they were
+remarkable, for Liza had chosen them of the same brilliant hue as her
+dress, and was herself most proud of the harmony.</p>
+
+<p>Her dance became gayer: her feet scarcely touched the ground, she
+whirled round madly.</p>
+
+<p>'Take care yer don't split!' cried out one of the wags, at a very
+audacious kick.</p>
+
+<p>The words were hardly out of his mouth when Liza, with a gigantic
+effort, raised her foot and kicked off his hat. The feat was greeted
+with applause, and she went on, making turns and twists, flourishing
+her skirts, kicking higher and  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> higher, and finally, among a volley of
+shouts, fell on her hands and turned head over heels in a magnificent
+catharine-wheel; then scrambling to her feet again, she tumbled into
+the arms of a young man standing in the front of the ring.</p>
+
+<p>'That's right, Liza,' he said. 'Give us a kiss, now,' and promptly
+tried to take one.</p>
+
+<p>'Git aht!' said Liza, pushing him away, not too gently.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, give us a kiss,' cried another, running up to her.</p>
+
+<p>'I'll smack yer in the fice!' said Liza, elegantly, as she dodged him.</p>
+
+<p>'Ketch 'old on 'er, Bill,' cried out a third, 'an' we'll all kiss
+her.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, you won't!' shrieked Liza, beginning to run.</p>
+
+<p>'Come on,' they cried, 'we'll ketch 'er.'</p>
+
+<p>She dodged in and out, between their legs, under their arms, and then,
+getting clear of the little crowd, caught up her skirts so that they
+might not hinder her, and took to her heels along the street. A score
+of men set in chase, whistling, shouting, yelling; the people at the
+doors looked up to see the fun, and cried out to her as she dashed
+past; she ran like the wind. Suddenly a man from the side darted into
+the middle of the road, stood straight in her way, and before she knew
+where she was, she had jumped shrieking into his arms, and he, lifting
+her up to him, had imprinted two sounding kisses on her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, you &mdash;&mdash;!' she said. Her expression was quite unprintable; nor can
+it be euphemized.</p>
+
+<p>There was a shout of laughter from the bystanders, and the young men
+in chase of her, and Liza, looking up, saw a big, bearded man whom she
+had never seen before. She blushed to the very roots of her hair,
+quickly extricated herself from his arms, and, amid the jeers and
+laughter of everyone, slid into the door of the nearest house and was
+lost to view.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> </p>
+<h2><a name="chapter_2" id="chapter_2"></a>2</h2>
+
+
+<p>Liza and her mother were having supper. Mrs. Kemp was an elderly woman,
+short, and rather stout, with a red face, and grey hair brushed tight
+back over her forehead. She had been a widow for many years, and since
+her husband's death had lived with Liza in the ground-floor front room
+in which they were now sitting. Her husband had been a soldier, and
+from a grateful country she received a pension large enough to keep
+her from starvation, and by charring and doing such odd jobs as she
+could get she earned a little extra to supply herself with liquor.
+Liza was able to make her own living by working at a factory.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kemp was rather sulky this evening.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot was yer doin' this afternoon, Liza?' she asked.</p>
+
+<p>'I was in the street.'</p>
+
+<p>'You're always in the street when I want yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't know as 'ow yer wanted me, mother,' answered Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, yer might 'ave come ter see! I might 'ave been dead, for all
+you knew.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>'My rheumatics was thet bad to-dy, thet I didn't know wot ter do with
+myself. The doctor said I was to be rubbed with that stuff 'e give me,
+but yer won't never do nothin' for me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, mother,' said Liza, 'your rheumatics was all right yesterday.'</p>
+
+<p>'I know wot you was doin'; you was showin' off thet new dress of
+yours. Pretty waste of money thet is, instead of givin' it me ter sive
+up. An' for the matter of thet, I wanted a new dress far worse than
+you did. But, of course, I don't matter.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span> </p>
+
+<p>Liza did not answer, and Mrs. Kemp, having nothing more to say,
+continued her supper in silence.</p>
+
+<p>It was Liza who spoke next.</p>
+
+<p>'There's some new people moved in the street. 'Ave you seen 'em?' she
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>'No, wot are they?'</p>
+
+<p>'I dunno; I've seen a chap, a big chap with a beard. I think 'e lives
+up at the other end.'</p>
+
+<p>She felt herself blushing a little.</p>
+
+<p>'No one any good you be sure,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'I can't swaller these
+new people as are comin' in; the street ain't wot it was when I fust
+come.'</p>
+
+<p>When they had done, Mrs. Kemp got up, and having finished her half-pint
+of beer, said to her daughter:</p>
+
+<p>'Put the things awy, Liza. I'm just goin' round to see Mrs. Clayton;
+she's just 'ad twins, and she 'ad nine before these come. It's a pity
+the Lord don't see fit ter tike some on 'em&mdash;thet's wot I say.'</p>
+
+<p>After which pious remark Mrs. Kemp went out of the house and turned
+into another a few doors up.</p>
+
+<p>Liza did not clear the supper things away as she was told, but opened
+the window and drew her chair to it. She leant on the sill, looking
+out into the street. The sun had set, and it was twilight, the sky was
+growing dark, bringing to view the twinkling stars; there was no
+breeze, but it was pleasantly and restfully cool. The good folk still
+sat at their doorsteps, talking as before on the same inexhaustible
+subjects, but a little subdued with the approach of night. The boys
+were still playing cricket, but they were mostly at the other end of
+the street, and their shouts were muffled before they reached Liza's
+ears.</p>
+
+<p>She sat, leaning her head on her hands, breathing in the fresh air and
+feeling a certain exquisite sense of peacefulness which she was not
+used to. It was Saturday evening, and she thankfully remembered that
+there would be no factory on  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> the morrow; she was glad to rest.
+Somehow she felt a little tired, perhaps it was through the excitement
+of the afternoon, and she enjoyed the quietness of the evening. It
+seemed so tranquil and still; the silence filled her with a strange
+delight, she felt as if she could sit there all through the night
+looking out into the cool, dark street, and up heavenwards at the
+stars. She was very happy, but yet at the same time experienced a
+strange new sensation of melancholy, and she almost wished to cry.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a dark form stepped in front of the open window. She gave a
+little shriek.</p>
+
+<p>''Oo's thet?' she asked, for it was quite dark, and she did not
+recognize the man standing in front of her.</p>
+
+<p>'Me, Liza,' was the answer.</p>
+
+<p>'Tom?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus!'</p>
+
+<p>It was a young man with light yellow hair and a little fair moustache,
+which made him appear almost boyish; he was light-complexioned and
+blue-eyed, and had a frank and pleasant look mingled with a curious
+bashfulness that made him blush when people spoke to him.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot's up?' asked Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Come aht for a walk, Liza, will yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'No!' she answered decisively.</p>
+
+<p>'You promised ter yesterday, Liza.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yesterday an' ter-day's two different things,' was her wise reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, come on, Liza.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I tell yer, I won't.'</p>
+
+<p>'I want ter talk ter yer, Liza.' Her hand was resting on the
+window-sill, and he put his upon it. She quickly drew it back.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I don't want yer ter talk ter me.'</p>
+
+<p>But she did, for it was she who broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p>'Say, Tom, 'oo are them new folk as 'as come into the street? It's a
+big chap with a brown beard.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'D'you mean the bloke as kissed yer this afternoon?'</p>
+
+<p>Liza blushed again.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, why shouldn't 'e kiss me?' she said, with some inconsequence.</p>
+
+<p>'I never said as 'ow 'e shouldn't; I only arst yer if it was the
+sime.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yea, thet's 'oo I mean.'</p>
+
+<p>''Is nime is Blakeston&mdash;Jim Blakeston. I've only spoke to 'im once;
+he's took the two top rooms at No. 19 'ouse.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wot's 'e want two top rooms for?'</p>
+
+<p>''Im? Oh, 'e's got a big family&mdash;five kids. Ain't yer seen 'is wife
+abaht the street? She's a big, fat woman, as does 'er 'air funny.'</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't know 'e 'ad a wife.'</p>
+
+<p>There was another silence; Liza sat thinking, and Tom stood at the
+window, looking at her.</p>
+
+<p>'Won't yer come aht with me, Liza?' he asked, at last.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, Tom,' she said, a little more gently, 'it's too lite.'</p>
+
+<p>'Liza,' he said, blushing to the roots of his hair.</p>
+
+<p>'Well?'</p>
+
+<p>'Liza'&mdash;he couldn't go on, and stuttered in his shyness&mdash;'Liza,
+I&mdash;I&mdash;I loves yer, Liza.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn awy!'</p>
+
+<p>He was quite brave now, and took hold of her hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Yer know, Liza, I'm earnin' twenty-three shillin's at the works now,
+an' I've got some furniture as mother left me when she was took.'</p>
+
+<p>The girl said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>'Liza, will you 'ave me? I'll make yer a good 'usband, Liza, swop me
+bob, I will; an' yer know I'm not a drinkin' sort. Liza, will yer
+marry me?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, Tom,' she answered quietly.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Liza, won't you 'ave me?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, Tom, I can't.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Why not? You've come aht walkin' with me ever since Whitsun.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, things is different now.'</p>
+
+<p>'You're not walkin' aht with anybody else, are you, Liza?' he asked
+quickly.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, not that.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, why won't yer, Liza? Oh Liza, I do love yer, I've never loved
+anybody as I love you!'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I can't, Tom!'</p>
+
+<p>'There ain't no one else?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then why not?'</p>
+
+<p>'I'm very sorry, Tom, but I don't love yer so as ter marry yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Liza!'</p>
+
+<p>She could not see the look upon his face, but she heard the agony in
+his voice; and, moved with sudden pity, she bent out, threw her arms
+round his neck, and kissed him on both cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind old chap!' she said. 'I'm not worth troublin' abaht.'</p>
+
+<p>And quickly drawing back, she slammed the window to, and moved into
+the further part of the room.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span> </p>
+<h2><a name="chapter_3" id="chapter_3"></a>3</h2>
+
+
+<p>The following day was Sunday. Liza when she was dressing herself in
+the morning, felt the hardness of fate in the impossibility of eating
+one's cake and having it; she wished she had reserved her new dress,
+and had still before her the sensation of a first appearance in it.
+With a sigh she put on her ordinary everyday working dress, and
+proceeded to get the breakfast ready, for her mother had been out late
+the previous night, celebrating the new arrivals in the street, and
+had the 'rheumatics' this morning.</p>
+
+<p>'Oo, my 'ead!' she was saying, as she pressed her hands on each side
+of her forehead. 'I've got the neuralgy again, wot shall I do? I dunno
+'ow it is, but it always comes on Sunday mornings. Oo, an' my
+rheumatics, they give me sich a doin' in the night!'</p>
+
+<p>'You'd better go to the 'orspital mother.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not I!' answered the worthy lady, with great decision. 'You 'as a
+dozen young chaps messin' you abaht, and lookin' at yer, and then they
+tells yer ter leave off beer and spirrits. Well, wot I says, I says I
+can't do withaht my glass of beer.' She thumped her pillow to
+emphasize the statement.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot with the work I 'ave ter do, lookin' after you and the cookin'
+and gettin' everythin' ready and doin' all the 'ouse-work, and goin'
+aht charring besides&mdash;well, I says, if I don't 'ave a drop of beer, I
+says, ter pull me together, I should be under the turf in no time.'</p>
+
+<p>She munched her bread-and-butter and drank her tea.</p>
+
+<p>'When you've done breakfast, Liza,' she said, 'you can give the grate
+a cleanin', an' my boots'd do with a bit of polishin'. Mrs. Tike, in
+the next 'ouse, 'll give yer some blackin'.'</p>
+
+<p>She remained silent for a bit, then said:</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'I don't think I shall get up ter-day. Liza. My rheumatics is bad. You
+can put the room straight and cook the dinner.'</p>
+
+<p>'Arright, mother, you stay where you are, an' I'll do everythin' for
+yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, it's only wot yer ought to do, considerin' all the trouble
+you've been ter me when you was young, and considerin' thet when you
+was born the doctor thought I never should get through it. Wot 'ave
+you done with your week's money, Liza?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I've put it awy,' answered Liza quietly.</p>
+
+<p>'Where?' asked her mother.</p>
+
+<p>'Where it'll be safe.'</p>
+
+<p>'Where's that?'</p>
+
+<p>Liza was driven into a corner.</p>
+
+<p>'Why d'you want ter know?' she asked.</p>
+
+<p>'Why shouldn't I know; d'you think I want ter steal it from yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, not thet.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, why won't you tell me?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, a thing's sifer when only one person knows where it is.'</p>
+
+<p>This was a very discreet remark, but it set Mrs. Kemp in a whirlwind of
+passion. She raised herself and sat up in the bed, flourishing her
+clenched fist at her daughter.</p>
+
+<p>'I know wot yer mean, you &mdash;&mdash; you!' Her language was emphatic, her
+epithets picturesque, but too forcible for reproduction. 'You think
+I'd steal it,' she went on. 'I know yer! D'yer think I'd go an' tike
+yer dirty money?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, mother,' said Liza, 'when I've told yer before, the money's
+perspired like.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wot d'yer mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'It got less.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I can't 'elp thet, can I? Anyone can come in 'ere and tike the
+money.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'If it's 'idden awy, they can't, can they, mother?' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kemp shook her fist.</p>
+
+<p>'You dirty slut, you,' she said, 'yer think I tike yer money! Why, you
+ought ter give it me every week instead of savin' it up and spendin'
+it on all sorts of muck, while I 'ave ter grind my very bones down to
+keep yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yer know, mother, if I didn't 'ave a little bit saved up, we should
+be rather short when you're dahn in yer luck.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kemp's money always ran out on Tuesday, and Liza had to keep
+things going till the following Saturday.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, don't talk ter me!' proceeded Mrs. Kemp. 'When I was a girl I give
+all my money ter my mother. She never 'ad ter ask me for nothin'. On
+Saturday when I come 'ome with my wiges, I give it 'er every farthin'.
+That's wot a daughter ought ter do. I can say this for myself, I
+be'aved by my mother like a gal should. None of your prodigal sons for
+me! She didn't 'ave ter ask me for three 'apence ter get a drop of
+beer.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza was wise in her generation; she held her tongue, and put on her
+hat.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, you're goin' aht, and leavin' me; I dunno wot you get up to in
+the street with all those men. No good, I'll be bound. An' 'ere am I
+left alone, an' I might die for all you care.'</p>
+
+<p>In her sorrow at herself the old lady began to cry, and Liza slipped
+out of the room and into the street.</p>
+
+<p>Leaning against the wall of the opposite house was Tom; he came
+towards her.</p>
+
+<p>''Ulloa!' she said, as she saw him. 'Wot are you doin' 'ere?'</p>
+
+<p>'I was waitin' for you ter come aht, Liza,' he answered.</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him quickly.</p>
+
+<p>'I ain't comin' aht with yer ter-day, if thet's wot yer mean,' she
+said.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'I never thought of arskin' yer, Liza&mdash;after wot you said ter me last
+night.'</p>
+
+<p>His voice was a little sad, and she felt so sorry for him.</p>
+
+<p>'But yer did want ter speak ter me, didn't yer, Tom?' she said, more
+gently.</p>
+
+<p>'You've got a day off ter-morrow, ain't yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Bank 'Oliday. Yus! Why?'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, 'cause they've got a drag startin' from the "Red Lion" that's
+goin' down ter Chingford for the day&mdash;an' I'm goin'.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus!' she said.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>'Will yer come too, Liza? It'll be a regular beeno; there's only goin'
+ter be people in the street. Eh, Liza?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I can't'</p>
+
+<p>'Why not?'</p>
+
+<p>'I ain't got&mdash;I ain't got the ooftish.'</p>
+
+<p>'I mean, won't yer come with me?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, Tom, thank yer; I can't do thet neither.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yer might as well, Liza; it wouldn't 'urt yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, it wouldn't be right like; I can't come aht with yer, and then
+mean nothin'! It would be doin' yer aht of an outing.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't see why,' he said, very crestfallen.</p>
+
+<p>'I can't go on keepin' company with you&mdash;after what I said last night.'</p>
+
+<p>'I shan't enjoy it a bit without you, Liza.'</p>
+
+<p>'You git somebody else, Tom. You'll do withaht me all right.'</p>
+
+<p>She nodded to him, and walked up the street to the house of her friend
+Sally. Having arrived in front of it, she put her hands to her mouth
+in trumpet form, and shouted:</p>
+
+<p>''I! 'I! 'I! Sally!'</p>
+
+<p>A couple of fellows standing by copied her.</p>
+
+<p>''I! 'I! 'I! Sally!'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Garn!' said Liza, looking round at them.</p>
+
+<p>Sally did not appear and she repeated her call. The men imitated her,
+and half a dozen took it up, so that there was enough noise to wake
+the seven sleepers.</p>
+
+<p>''I! 'I! 'I! Sally!'</p>
+
+<p>A head was put out of a top window, and Liza, taking off her hat,
+waved it, crying:</p>
+
+<p>'Come on dahn, Sally!'</p>
+
+<p>'Arright, old gal!' shouted the other. 'I'm comin'!'</p>
+
+<p>'So's Christmas!' was Liza's repartee.</p>
+
+<p>There was a clatter down the stairs, and Sally, rushing through the
+passage, threw herself on to her friend. They began fooling, in
+reminiscence of a melodrama they had lately seen together.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, my darlin' duck!' said Liza, kissing her and pressing her, with
+affected rapture, to her bosom.</p>
+
+<p>'My sweetest sweet!' replied Sally, copying her.</p>
+
+<p>'An' 'ow does your lidyship ter-day?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!'&mdash;with immense languor&mdash;'fust class; and is your royal 'ighness
+quite well?'</p>
+
+<p>'I deeply regret,' answered Liza, 'but my royal 'ighness 'as got the
+collywobbles.'</p>
+
+<p>Sally was a small, thin girl, with sandy hair and blue eyes, and a
+very freckled complexion. She had an enormous mouth, with terrible,
+square teeth set wide apart, which looked as if they could masticate
+an iron bar. She was dressed like Liza, in a shortish black skirt and
+an old-fashioned bodice, green and grey and yellow with age; her
+sleeves were tucked up to the elbow, and she wore a singularly dirty
+apron, that had once been white.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot 'ave you got yer 'air in them things for?' asked Liza, pointing
+to the curl-papers. 'Goin' aht with yer young man ter-day?'</p>
+
+<p>'No, I'm going ter stay 'ere all day.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wot for, then?'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Why, 'Arry's going ter tike me ter Chingford ter-morrer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh? In the "Red Lion" brake?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus. Are you goin'?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na!'</p>
+
+<p>'Not! Well, why don't you get round Tom? 'E'll tike yer, and jolly
+glad 'e'll be, too.'</p>
+
+<p>''E arst me ter go with 'im, but I wouldn't.'</p>
+
+<p>'Swop me bob&mdash;why not?'</p>
+
+<p>'I ain't keeping company with 'im.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yer might 'ave gone with 'im all the sime.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na. You're goin' with 'Arry, ain't yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus!'</p>
+
+<p>'An' you're goin' to 'ave 'im?'</p>
+
+<p>'Right again!'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I couldn't go with Tom, and then throw him over.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, you are a mug!'</p>
+
+<p>The two girls had strolled down towards the Westminster Bridge Road,
+and Sally, meeting her young man, had gone to him. Liza walked back,
+wishing to get home in time to cook the dinner. But she went slowly,
+for she knew every dweller in the street, and as she passed the groups
+sitting at their doors, as on the previous evening, but this time
+mostly engaged in peeling potatoes or shelling peas, she stopped and
+had a little chat. Everyone liked her, and was glad to have her
+company. 'Good old Liza,' they would say, as she left them, 'she's a
+rare good sort, ain't she?'</p>
+
+<p>She asked after the aches and pains of all the old people, and
+delicately inquired after the babies, past and future; the children
+hung on to her skirts and asked her to play with them, and she would
+hold one end of the rope while tiny little ragged girls skipped,
+invariably entangling themselves after two jumps.</p>
+
+<p>She had nearly reached home, when she heard a voice cry:</p>
+
+<p>'Mornin'!'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> </p>
+
+<p>She looked round and recognized the man whom Tom had told her was
+called Jim Blakeston. He was sitting on a stool at the door of one of
+the houses, playing with two young children, to whom he was giving
+rides on his knee. She remembered his heavy brown beard from the day
+before, and she had also an impression of great size; she noticed this
+morning that he was, in fact, a big man, tall and broad, and she saw
+besides that he had large, masculine features and pleasant brown eyes.
+She supposed him to be about forty.</p>
+
+<p>'Mornin'!' he said again, as she stopped and looked at him.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, yer needn't look as if I was goin' ter eat yer up, 'cause I
+ain't,' he said.</p>
+
+<p>''Oo are you? I'm not afeard of yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wot are yer so bloomin' red abaht?' he asked pointedly.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I'm 'ot.'</p>
+
+<p>'You ain't shirty 'cause I kissed yer last night?'</p>
+
+<p>'I'm not shirty; but it was pretty cool, considerin' like as I didn't
+know yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, you run into my arms.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thet I didn't; you run aht and caught me.'</p>
+
+<p>'An' kissed yer before you could say "Jack Robinson".' He laughed at
+the thought. 'Well, Liza,' he went on, 'seein' as 'ow I kissed yer
+against yer will, the best thing you can do ter make it up is to kiss
+me not against yer will.'</p>
+
+<p>'Me?' said Liza, looking at him, open-mouthed. 'Well you are a pill!'</p>
+
+<p>The children began to clamour for the riding, which had been
+discontinued on Liza's approach.</p>
+
+<p>'Are them your kids?' she asked.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus; them's two on 'em.'</p>
+
+<p>''Ow many 'ave yer got?'</p>
+
+<p>'Five; the eldest gal's fifteen, and the next one 'oo's a boy's
+twelve, and then there are these two and baby.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, you've got enough for your money.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Too many for me&mdash;and more comin'.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah well,' said Liza, laughing, 'thet's your fault, ain't it?'</p>
+
+<p>Then she bade him good morning, and strolled off.</p>
+
+<p>He watched her as she went, and saw half a dozen little boys surround
+her and beg her to join them in their game of cricket. They caught
+hold of her arms and skirts, and pulled her to their pitch.</p>
+
+<p>'No, I can't,' she said trying to disengage herself. 'I've got the
+dinner ter cook.'</p>
+
+<p>'Dinner ter cook?' shouted one small boy. 'Why, they always cooks the
+cats' meat at the shop.'</p>
+
+<p>'You little so-and-so!' said Liza, somewhat inelegantly, making a dash
+at him.</p>
+
+<p>He dodged her and gave a whoop; then turning he caught her round the
+legs, and another boy catching hold of her round the neck they dragged
+her down, and all three struggled on the ground, rolling over and
+over; the other boys threw themselves on the top, so that there was a
+great heap of legs and arms and heads waving and bobbing up and down.</p>
+
+<p>Liza extricated herself with some difficulty, and taking off her hat
+she began cuffing the boys with it, using all the time the most lively
+expressions. Then, having cleared the field, she retired victorious
+into her own house and began cooking the dinner.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span> </p>
+<h2><a name="chapter_4" id="chapter_4"></a>4</h2>
+
+
+<p>Bank Holiday was a beautiful day: the cloudless sky threatened a
+stifling heat for noontide, but early in the morning, when Liza got
+out of bed and threw open the window, it was fresh and cool. She
+dressed herself, wondering how she should spend her day; she thought
+of Sally going off to Chingford with her lover, and of herself
+remaining alone in the dull street with half the people away. She
+almost wished it were an ordinary work-day, and that there were no
+such things as bank holidays. And it seemed to be a little like two
+Sundays running, but with the second rather worse than the first. Her
+mother was still sleeping, and she was in no great hurry about getting
+the breakfast, but stood quietly looking out of the window at the
+house opposite.</p>
+
+<p>In a little while she saw Sally coming along. She was arrayed in
+purple and fine linen&mdash;a very smart red dress, trimmed with velveteen,
+and a tremendous hat covered with feathers. She had reaped the benefit
+of keeping her hair in curl-papers since Saturday, and her sandy
+fringe stretched from ear to ear. She was in enormous spirits.</p>
+
+<p>''Ulloa, Liza!' she called as soon as she saw her at the window.</p>
+
+<p>Liza looked at her a little enviously.</p>
+
+<p>''Ulloa!' she answered quietly.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm just goin' to the "Red Lion" to meet 'Arry.'</p>
+
+<p>'At what time d'yer start?'</p>
+
+<p>'The brake leaves at 'alf-past eight sharp.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, it's only eight; it's only just struck at the church. 'Arry
+won't be there yet, will he?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, 'e's sure ter be early. I couldn't wite. I've been witin' abaht
+since 'alf-past six. I've been up since five this morning.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Since five! What 'ave you been doin'?'</p>
+
+<p>'Dressin' myself and doin' my 'air. I woke up so early. I've been
+dreamin' all the night abaht it. I simply couldn't sleep.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, you are a caution!' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Bust it, I don't go on the spree every day! Oh, I do 'ope I shall
+enjoy myself.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, you simply dunno where you are!' said Liza, a little crossly.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't you wish you was comin', Liza?' asked Sally.</p>
+
+<p>'Na! I could if I liked, but I don't want ter.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are a coughdrop&mdash;thet's all I can say. Ketch me refusin' when I
+'ave the chanst.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, it's done now. I ain't got the chanst any more.' Liza said this
+with just a little regret in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>'Come on dahn to the "Red Lion", Liza, and see us off,' said Sally.</p>
+
+<p>'No, I'm damned if I do!' answered Liza, with some warmth.</p>
+
+<p>'You might as well. P'raps 'Arry won't be there, an' you can keep me
+company till 'e comes. An' you can see the 'orses.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza was really very anxious to see the brake and the horses and the
+people going; but she hesitated a little longer. Sally asked her once
+again. Then she said:</p>
+
+<p>'Arright; I'll come with yer, and wite till the bloomin' old thing
+starts.'</p>
+
+<p>She did not trouble to put on a hat, but just walked out as she was,
+and accompanied Sally to the public-house which was getting up the
+expedition.</p>
+
+<p>Although there was still nearly half an hour to wait, the brake was
+drawn up before the main entrance; it was large and long, with seats
+arranged crosswise, so that four people could sit on each; and it was
+drawn by two powerful horses, whose harness the coachman was now
+examining. Sally was  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> not the first on the scene, for already half a
+dozen people had taken their places, but Harry had not yet arrived.
+The two girls stood by the public-door, looking at the preparations.
+Huge baskets full of food were brought out and stowed away; cases of
+beer were hoisted up and put in every possible place&mdash;under the seats,
+under the driver's legs, and even beneath the brake. As more people
+came up, Sally began to get excited about Harry's non-appearance.</p>
+
+<p>'I say, I wish 'e'd come!' she said. ''E is lite.'</p>
+
+<p>Then she looked up and down the Westminster Bridge Road to see if he
+was in view.</p>
+
+<p>'Suppose 'e don't turn up! I will give it 'im when 'e comes for
+keepin' me witin' like this.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, there's a quarter of an hour yet,' said Liza, who saw nothing at
+all to get excited about.</p>
+
+<p>At last Sally saw her lover, and rushed off to meet him. Liza was left
+alone, rather disconsolate at all this bustle and preparation. She was
+not sorry that she had refused Tom's invitation, but she did wish that
+she had conscientiously been able to accept it. Sally and her friend
+came up; attired in his Sunday best, he was a fit match for his
+lady-love&mdash;he wore a shirt and collar, unusual luxuries&mdash;and be
+carried under his arm a concertina to make things merry on the way.</p>
+
+<p>'Ain't you goin', Liza?' he asked in surprise at seeing her without a
+hat and with her apron on.</p>
+
+<p>'Na,' said Sally, 'ain't she a soft? Tom said 'e'd tike 'er, an' she
+wouldn't.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I'm dashed!'</p>
+
+<p>Then they climbed the ladder and took their seats, so that Liza was
+left alone again. More people had come along, and the brake was nearly
+full. Liza knew them all, but they were too busy taking their places
+to talk to her. At last Tom came. He saw her standing there and went
+up to her.</p>
+
+<p>'Won't yer change yer mind, Liza, an' come along with us?'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Na, Tom, I told yer I wouldn't&mdash;it's not right like.' She felt she
+must repeat that to herself often.</p>
+
+<p>'I shan't enjoy it a bit without you,' he said.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I can't 'elp it!' she answered, somewhat sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment a man came out of the public-house with a horn in his
+hand; her heart gave a great jump, for if there was anything she
+adored it was to drive along to the tootling of a horn. She really
+felt it was very hard lines that she must stay at home when all these
+people were going to have such a fine time; and they were all so
+merry, and she could picture to herself so well the delights of the
+drive and the picnic. She felt very much inclined to cry. But she
+mustn't go, and she wouldn't go: she repeated that to herself twice as
+the trumpeter gave a preliminary tootle.</p>
+
+<p>Two more people hurried along, and when they came near Liza saw that
+they were Jim Blakeston and a woman whom she supposed to be his wife.</p>
+
+<p>'Are you comin', Liza?' Jim said to her.</p>
+
+<p>'No,' she answered. 'I didn't know you was goin'.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wish you was comin',' he replied, 'we shall 'ave a game.'</p>
+
+<p>She could only just keep back the sobs; she so wished she were going.
+It did seem hard that she must remain behind; and all because she
+wasn't going to marry Tom. After all, she didn't see why that should
+prevent her; there really was no need to refuse for that. She began to
+think she had acted foolishly: it didn't do anyone any good that she
+refused to go out with Tom, and no one thought it anything specially
+fine that she should renounce her pleasure. Sally merely thought her a
+fool.</p>
+
+<p>Tom was standing by her side, silent, and looking disappointed and
+rather unhappy. Jim said to her, in a low voice:</p>
+
+<p>'I am sorry you're not comin'!'</p>
+
+<p>It was too much. She did want to go so badly, and she really couldn't
+resist any longer. If Tom would only ask her  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> once more, and if she
+could only change her mind reasonably and decently, she would accept;
+but he stood silent, and she had to speak herself. It was very
+undignified.</p>
+
+<p>'Yer know, Tom.' she said, 'I don't want ter spoil your day.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I don't think I shall go alone; it 'ud be so precious slow.'</p>
+
+<p>Supposing he didn't ask her again! What should she do? She looked up
+at the clock on the front of the pub, and noticed that it only wanted
+five minutes to the half-hour. How terrible it would be if the brake
+started and he didn't ask her! Her heart beat violently against her
+chest, and in her agitation she fumbled with the corner of her apron.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, what can I do, Tom dear?'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, come with me, of course. Oh. Liza, do say yes.'</p>
+
+<p>She had got the offer again, and it only wanted a little seemly
+hesitation, and the thing was done.</p>
+
+<p>'I should like ter, Tom,' she said. 'But d'you think it 'ud be
+arright?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, of course it would. Come on, Liza!' In his eagerness he clasped
+her hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Well,' she remarked, looking down, 'if it'd spoil your 'oliday&mdash;.'</p>
+
+<p>'I won't go if you don't&mdash;swop me bob, I won't!' he answered.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, if I come, it won't mean that I'm keepin' company with you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, it won't mean anythin' you don't like.'</p>
+
+<p>'Arright!' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'You'll come?' he could hardly believe her.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus!' she answered, smiling all over her face.</p>
+
+<p>'You're a good sort, Liza! I say, 'Arry, Liza's comin'!' he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>'Liza? 'Oorray!' shouted Harry.</p>
+
+<p>''S'at right, Liza?' called Sally.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> </p>
+
+<p>And Liza feeling quite joyful and light of heart called back:</p>
+
+<p>'Yus!'</p>
+
+<p>''Oorray!' shouted Sally in answer.</p>
+
+<p>'Thet's right, Liza,' called Jim; and he smiled pleasantly as she
+looked at him.</p>
+
+<p>'There's just room for you two 'ere,' said Harry, pointing to the
+vacant places by his side.</p>
+
+<p>'Arright!' said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>'I must jest go an' get a 'at an' tell mother,' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'There's just three minutes. Be quick!' answered Tom, and as she
+scampered off as hard as she could go, he shouted to the coachman:
+''Old 'ard; there' another passenger comin' in a minute.'</p>
+
+<p>'Arright, old cock,' answered the coachman: 'no 'urry!'</p>
+
+<p>Liza rushed into the room, and called to her mother, who was still
+asleep:</p>
+
+<p>'Mother! mother! I'm going to Chingford!'</p>
+
+<p>Then tearing off her old dress she slipped into her gorgeous violet
+one; she kicked off her old ragged shoes and put on her new boots. She
+brushed her hair down and rapidly gave her fringe a twirl and a
+twist&mdash;it was luckily still moderately in curl from the previous
+Saturday&mdash;and putting on her black hat with all the feathers, she
+rushed along the street, and scrambling up the brake steps fell
+panting on Tom's lap.</p>
+
+<p>The coachman cracked his whip, the trumpeter tootled his horn, and
+with a cry and a cheer from the occupants, the brake clattered down
+the road.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> </p>
+<h2><a name="chapter_5" id="chapter_5"></a>5</h2>
+
+
+
+<p>As soon as Liza had recovered herself she started examining the people
+on the brake; and first of all she took stock of the woman whom Jim
+Blakeston had with him.</p>
+
+<p>'This is my missus!' said Jim, pointing to her with his thumb.</p>
+
+<p>'You ain't been dahn in the street much, 'ave yer?' said Liza, by way
+of making the acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>'Na,' answered Mrs. Blakeston, 'my youngster's been dahn with the
+measles, an' I've 'ad my work cut out lookin' after 'im.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, an' is 'e all right now?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, 'e's gettin' on fine, an' Jim wanted ter go ter Chingford
+ter-day, an' 'e says ter me, well, 'e says, "You come along ter
+Chingford, too; it'll do you good." An' 'e says, "You can leave
+Polly"&mdash;she's my eldest, yer know&mdash;"you can leave Polly," says 'e,
+"ter look after the kids." So I says, "Well, I don't mind if I do,"
+says I.'</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Liza was looking at her. First she noticed her dress: she
+wore a black cloak and a funny, old-fashioned black bonnet; then
+examining the woman herself, she saw a middle-sized, stout person
+anywhere between thirty and forty years old. She had a large, fat face
+with a big mouth, and her hair was curiously done, parted in the
+middle and plastered down on each side of the head in little plaits.
+One could see that she was a woman of great strength, notwithstanding
+evident traces of hard work and much child-bearing.</p>
+
+<p>Liza knew all the other passengers, and now that everyone was settled
+down and had got over the excitement of departure, they had time to
+greet one another. They were delighted to have Liza among them, for
+where she was there  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> was no dullness. Her attention was first of all
+taken up by a young coster who had arrayed himself in the traditional
+costume&mdash;grey suit, tight trousers, and shiny buttons in profusion.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot cheer, Bill!' she cried to him.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot cheer, Liza!' he answered.</p>
+
+<p>'You are got up dossy, you'll knock 'em.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na then, Liza Kemp,' said his companion, turning round with mock
+indignation, 'you let my Johnny alone. If you come gettin' round 'im
+I'll give you wot for.'</p>
+
+<p>'Arright, Clary Sharp, I don't want 'im,' answered Liza. 'I've got one
+of my own, an' thet's a good 'andful&mdash;ain't it, Tom?'</p>
+
+<p>Tom was delighted, and, unable to find a repartee, in his pleasure
+gave Liza a great nudge with his elbow.</p>
+
+<p>''Oo, I say,' said Liza, putting her hand to her side. 'Tike care of
+my ribs; you'll brike 'em.'</p>
+
+<p>'Them's not yer ribs,' shouted a candid friend&mdash;'them's yer
+whale-bones yer afraid of breakin'.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn!'</p>
+
+<p>''Ave yer got whale-bones?' said Tom, with affected simplicity,
+putting his arm round her waist to feel.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, then,' she said, 'keep off the grass!'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I only wanted ter know if you'd got any.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn; yer don't git round me like thet.'</p>
+
+<p>He still kept as he was.</p>
+
+<p>'Na then,' she repeated, 'tike yer 'and away. If yer touch me there
+you'll 'ave ter marry me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thet's just wot I wants ter do, Liza!'</p>
+
+<p>'Shut it!' she answered cruelly, and drew his arm away from her waist.</p>
+
+<p>The horses scampered on, and the man behind blew his horn with vigour.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't bust yerself, guv'nor!' said one of the passengers to him when
+he made a particularly discordant sound. They  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span> drove along eastwards,
+and as the hour grew later the streets became more filled and the
+traffic greater. At last they got on the road to Chingford, and caught
+up numbers of other vehicles going in the same direction&mdash;donkey-shays,
+pony-carts, tradesmen's carts, dog-carts, drags, brakes, every
+conceivable kind of wheel thing, all filled with people, the
+wretched donkey dragging along four solid rate-payers to the pair
+of stout horses easily managing a couple of score. They exchanged
+cheers and greetings as they passed, the 'Red Lion' brake being
+noticeable above all for its uproariousness. As the day wore on
+the sun became hotter, and the road seemed more dusty and threw up a
+greater heat.</p>
+
+<p>'I am getting 'ot!' was the common cry, and everyone began to puff and
+sweat.</p>
+
+<p>The ladies removed their cloaks and capes, and the men, following
+their example, took off their coats and sat in their shirt-sleeves.
+Whereupon ensued much banter of a not particularly edifying kind
+respecting the garments which each person would like to remove&mdash;which
+showed that the innuendo of French farce is not so unknown to the
+upright, honest Englishman as might be supposed.</p>
+
+<p>At last came in sight the half-way house, where the horses were to
+have a rest and a sponge down. They had been talking of it for the
+last quarter of a mile, and when at length it was observed on the top
+of a hill a cheer broke out, and some thirsty wag began to sing 'Rule
+Britannia', whilst others burst forth with a different national ditty,
+'Beer, Glorious Beer!' They drew up before the pub entrance, and all
+climbed down as quickly as they could. The bar was besieged, and
+potmen and barmaids were quickly busy drawing beer and handing it over
+to the eager folk outside.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>THE IDYLL OF CORYDON AND PHYLLIS.</p></div>
+
+<p>Gallantry ordered that the faithful swain and the amorous shepherdess
+should drink out of one and the same pot.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> </p>
+
+<p>''Urry up an' 'ave your whack,' said Corydon, politely handing the
+foaming bowl for his fair one to drink from.</p>
+
+<p>Phyllis, without replying, raised it to her lips and drank deep. The
+swain watched anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>''Ere, give us a chanst!' he said, as the pot was raised higher and
+higher and its contents appeared to be getting less and less.</p>
+
+<p>At this the amorous shepherdess stopped and handed the pot to her
+lover.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I'm dashed!' said Corydon, looking into it; and added: 'I guess
+you know a thing or two.' Then with courtly grace putting his own lips
+to the place where had been those of his beloved, finished the pint.</p>
+
+<p>'Go' lumme!' remarked the shepherdess, smacking her lips, 'that was
+somethin' like!' And she put out her tongue and licked her lips, and
+then breathed deeply.</p>
+
+<p>The faithful swain having finished, gave a long sigh, and said:</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I could do with some more!'</p>
+
+<p>'For the matter of thet, I could do with a gargle!'</p>
+
+<p>Thus encouraged, the gallant returned to the bar, and soon brought out
+a second pint.</p>
+
+<p>'You 'ave fust pop,' amorously remarked Phyllis, and he took a long
+drink and handed the pot to her.</p>
+
+<p>She, with maiden modesty, turned it so as to have a different part to
+drink from; but he remarked as he saw her:</p>
+
+<p>'You are bloomin' particular.'</p>
+
+<p>Then, unwilling to grieve him, she turned it back again and applied
+her ruby lips to the place where his had been.</p>
+
+<p>'Now we shan't be long!' she remarked, as she handed him back the pot.</p>
+
+<p>The faithful swain took out of his pocket a short clay pipe, blew
+through it, filled it, and began to smoke, while Phyllis sighed at the
+thought of the cool liquid gliding down her throat, and with the
+pleasing recollection gently stroked  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span> her stomach. Then Corydon spat,
+and immediately his love said:</p>
+
+<p>'I can spit farther than thet.'</p>
+
+<p>'I bet yer yer can't.'</p>
+
+<p>She tried, and did. He collected himself and spat again, further than
+before, she followed him, and in this idyllic contest they remained
+till the tootling horn warned them to take their places.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>At last they reached Chingford, and here the horses were taken out and
+the drag, on which they were to lunch, drawn up in a sheltered spot.
+They were all rather hungry, but as it was not yet feeding-time, they
+scattered to have drinks meanwhile. Liza and Tom, with Sally and her
+young man, went off together to the nearest public-house, and as they
+drank beer, Harry, who was a great sportsman, gave them a graphic
+account of a prize-fight he had seen on the previous Saturday evening,
+which had been rendered specially memorable by one man being so hurt
+that he had died from the effects. It had evidently been a very fine
+affair, and Harry said that several swells from the West End had been
+present, and he related their ludicrous efforts to get in without
+being seen by anyone, and their terror when someone to frighten them
+called out 'Copper!' Then Tom and he entered into a discussion on the
+subject of boxing, in which Tom, being a shy and undogmatic sort of
+person, was entirely worsted. After this they strolled back to the
+brake, and found things being prepared for luncheon; the hampers were
+brought out and emptied, and the bottles of beer in great profusion
+made many a thirsty mouth thirstier.</p>
+
+<p>'Come along, lidies an' gentlemen&mdash;if you are gentlemen,' shouted the
+coachman; 'the animals is now goin' ter be fed!'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn awy,' answered somebody, 'we're not hanimals; we don't drink
+water.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'You're too clever,' remarked the coachman; 'I can see you've just
+come from the board school.'</p>
+
+<p>As the former speaker was a lady of quite mature appearance, the
+remark was not without its little irony. The other man blew his horn
+by way of grace, at which Liza called out to him:</p>
+
+<p>'Don't do thet, you'll bust, I know you will, an' if you bust you'll
+quite spoil my dinner!'</p>
+
+<p>Then they all set to. Pork-pies, saveloys, sausages, cold potatoes,
+hard-boiled eggs, cold bacon, veal, ham, crabs and shrimps, cheese,
+butter, cold suet-puddings and treacle, gooseberry-tarts,
+cherry-tarts, butter, bread, more sausages, and yet again pork-pies!
+They devoured the provisions like ravening beasts, stolidly, silently,
+earnestly, in large mouthfuls which they shoved down their throats
+unmasticated. The intelligent foreigner seeing them thus dispose of
+their food would have understood why England is a great nation. He
+would have understood why Britons never, never will be slaves. They
+never stopped except to drink, and then at each gulp they emptied
+their glass; no heel-taps! And still they ate, and still they
+drank&mdash;but as all things must cease, they stopped at last, and a long
+sigh of content broke from their two-and-thirty throats.</p>
+
+<p>Then the gathering broke up, and the good folk paired themselves and
+separated. Harry and his lady strolled off to secluded byways in the
+forest, so that they might discourse of their loves and digest their
+dinner. Tom had all the morning been waiting for this happy moment; he
+had counted on the expansive effect of a full stomach to thaw his
+Liza's coldness, and he had pictured himself sitting on the grass with
+his back against the trunk of a spreading chestnut-tree, with his arm
+round his Liza's waist, and her head resting affectionately on his
+manly bosom. Liza, too, had foreseen the separation into couples after
+dinner, and had been racking her brains to find a means of getting out
+of it.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'I don't want 'im slobberin' abaht me,' she said; 'it gives me the
+sick, all this kissin' an' cuddlin'!'</p>
+
+<p>She scarcely knew why she objected to his caresses; but they bored her
+and made her cross. But luckily the blessed institution of marriage
+came to her rescue, for Jim and his wife naturally had no particular
+desire to spend the afternoon together, and Liza, seeing a little
+embarrassment on their part, proposed that they should go for a walk
+together in the forest.</p>
+
+<p>Jim agreed at once, and with pleasure, but Tom was dreadfully
+disappointed. He hadn't the courage to say anything, but he glared at
+Blakeston. Jim smiled benignly at him, and Tom began to sulk. Then
+they began a funny walk through the woods. Jim tried to go on with
+Liza, and Liza was not at all disinclined to this, for she had come to
+the conclusion that Jim, notwithstanding his 'cheek', was not ''alf a
+bad sort'. But Tom kept walking alongside of them, and as Jim slightly
+quickened his pace so as to get Liza on in front, Tom quickened his,
+and Mrs. Blakeston, who didn't want to be left behind, had to break
+into a little trot to keep up with them. Jim tried also to get Liza
+all to himself in the conversation, and let Tom see that he was out in
+the cold, but Tom would break in with cross, sulky remarks, just to
+make the others uncomfortable. Liza at last got rather vexed with him.</p>
+
+<p>'Strikes me you got aht of bed the wrong way this mornin',' she said
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>'Yer didn't think thet when yer said you'd come aht with me.' He
+emphasized the 'me'.</p>
+
+<p>Liza shrugged her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>'You give me the 'ump,' she said. 'If yer wants ter mike a fool of
+yerself, you can go elsewhere an' do it.'</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose yer want me ter go awy now,' he said angrily.</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't say I did.'</p>
+
+<p>'Arright, Liza, I won't stay where I'm not wanted.' And  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span> turning on
+his heel he marched off, striking through the underwood into the midst
+of the forest.</p>
+
+<p>He felt extremely unhappy as he wandered on, and there was a choky
+feeling in his throat as he thought of Liza: she was very unkind and
+ungrateful, and he wished he had never come to Chingford. She might so
+easily have come for a walk with him instead of going with that beast
+of a Blakeston; she wouldn't ever do anything for him, and he hated
+her&mdash;but all the same, he was a poor foolish thing in love, and he
+began to feel that perhaps he had been a little exacting and a little
+forward to take offence. And then he wished he had never said
+anything, and he wanted so much to see her and make it up. He made his
+way back to Chingford, hoping she would not make him wait too long.</p>
+
+<p>Liza was a little surprised when Tom turned and left them.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot 'as 'e got the needle abaht?' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'Why, 'e's jealous,' answered Jim, with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>'Tom jealous?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus; 'e's jealous of me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, 'e ain't got no cause ter be jealous of anyone&mdash;that 'e ain't!'
+said Liza, and continued by telling him all about Tom: how he had
+wanted to marry her and she wouldn't have him, and how she had only
+agreed to come to Chingford with him on the understanding that she
+should preserve her entire freedom. Jim listened sympathetically, but
+his wife paid no attention; she was doubtless engaged in thought
+respecting her household or her family.</p>
+
+<p>When they got back to Chingford they saw Tom standing in solitude
+looking at them. Liza was struck by the woebegone expression on his
+face; she felt she had been cruel to him, and leaving the Blakestons
+went up to him.</p>
+
+<p>'I say, Tom,' she said, 'don't tike on so; I didn't mean it.'</p>
+
+<p>He was bursting to apologize for his behaviour.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Yer know, Tom,' she went on, 'I'm rather 'asty, an' I'm sorry I said
+wot I did.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Liza, you are good! You ain't cross with me?'</p>
+
+<p>'Me? Na; it's you thet oughter be cross.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are a good sort, Liza!'</p>
+
+<p>'You ain't vexed with me?'</p>
+
+<p>'Give me Liza every time; that's wot I say,' he answered, as his face
+lit up. 'Come along an' 'ave tea, an' then we'll go for a
+donkey-ride.'</p>
+
+<p>The donkey-ride was a great success. Liza was a little afraid at
+first, so Tom walked by her side to take care of her, she screamed the
+moment the beast began to trot, and clutched hold of Tom to save
+herself from falling, and as he felt her hand on his shoulder, and
+heard her appealing cry: 'Oh, do 'old me! I'm fallin'!' he felt that
+he had never in his life been so deliciously happy. The whole party
+joined in, and it was proposed that they should have races; but in the
+first heat, when the donkeys broke into a canter, Liza fell off into
+Tom's arms and the donkeys scampered on without her.</p>
+
+<p>'I know wot I'll do,' she said, when the runaway had been recovered.
+'I'll ride 'im straddlewyse.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn!' said Sally, 'yer can't with petticoats.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, I can, an' I will too!'</p>
+
+<p>So another donkey was procured, this time with a man's saddle, and
+putting her foot in the stirrup, she cocked her leg over and took her
+seat triumphantly. Neither modesty nor bashfulness was to be reckoned
+among Liza's faults, and in this position she felt quite at ease.</p>
+
+<p>'I'll git along arright now, Tom,' she said; 'you garn and
+git yerself a moke, and come an' jine in.'</p>
+
+<p>The next race was perfectly uproarious. Liza kicked and beat her
+donkey with all her might, shrieking and laughing the white, and
+finally came in winner by a length. After that they felt rather warm
+and dry, and repaired to the public-house  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span> to restore themselves and
+talk over the excitements of the racecourse.</p>
+
+<p>When they had drunk several pints of beer Liza and Sally, with their
+respective adorers and the Blakestons, walked round to find other
+means of amusing themselves; they were arrested by a coconut-shy.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, let's 'ave a shy!' said Liza, excitedly, at which the unlucky men
+had to pull out their coppers, while Sally and Liza made ludicrously
+bad shots at the coconuts.</p>
+
+<p>'It looks so bloomin' easy,' said Liza, brushing up her hair, 'but I
+can't 'it the blasted thing. You 'ave a shot, Tom.'</p>
+
+<p>He and Harry were equally unskilful, but Jim got three coconuts
+running, and the proprietors of the show began to look on him with
+some concern.</p>
+
+<p>'You are a dab at it,' said Liza, in admiration.</p>
+
+<p>They tried to induce Mrs. Blakeston to try her luck, but she stoutly
+refused.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't old with such foolishness. It's wiste of money ter me,' she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>'Na then, don't crack on, old tart,' remarked her husband, 'let's go
+an' eat the coconuts.'</p>
+
+<p>There was one for each couple, and after the ladies had sucked the
+juice they divided them and added their respective shares to their
+dinners and teas. Supper came next. Again they fell to sausage-rolls,
+boiled eggs, and saveloys, and countless bottles of beer were added to
+those already drunk.</p>
+
+<p>'I dunno 'ow many bottles of beer I've drunk&mdash;I've lost count,' said
+Liza; whereat there was a general laugh.</p>
+
+<p>They still had an hour before the brake was to start back, and it was
+then the concertinas came in useful. They sat down on the grass, and
+the concert was begun by Harry, who played a solo; then there was a
+call for a song, and Jim stood up and sang that ancient ditty, 'O dem
+Golden Kippers, O'. There was no shyness in the company, and Liza,
+ <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> almost without being asked, gave another popular comic song. Then
+there was more concertina playing, and another demand for a song. Liza
+turned to Tom, who was sitting quietly by her side.</p>
+
+<p>'Give us a song, old cock,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'I can't,' he answered. 'I'm not a singin' sort.' At which Blakeston
+got up and offered to sing again.</p>
+
+<p>'Tom is rather a soft,' said Liza to herself, 'not like that cove
+Blakeston.'</p>
+
+<p>They repaired to the public-house to have a few last drinks before the
+brake started, and when the horn blew to warn them, rather unsteadily,
+they proceeded to take their places.</p>
+
+<p>Liza, as she scrambled up the steps, said: 'Well, I believe I'm
+boozed.'</p>
+
+<p>The coachman had arrived at the melancholy stage of intoxication, and
+was sitting on his box holding his reins, with his head bent on his
+chest. He was thinking sadly of the long-lost days of his youth, and
+wishing he had been a better man.</p>
+
+<p>Liza had no respect for such holy emotions, and she brought down her
+fist on the crown of his hat, and bashed it over his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'Na then, old jellybelly,' she said, 'wot's the good of 'avin' a fice
+as long as a kite?'</p>
+
+<p>He turned round and smote her.</p>
+
+<p>'Jellybelly yerself!' said he.</p>
+
+<p>'Puddin' fice!' she cried.</p>
+
+<p>'Kite fice!'</p>
+
+<p>'Boss eye!'</p>
+
+<p>She was tremendously excited, laughing and singing, keeping the whole
+company in an uproar. In her jollity she had changed hats with Tom,
+and he in her big feathers made her shriek with laughter. When they
+started they began to sing 'For 'e's a jolly good feller', making the
+night resound with their noisy voices.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> </p>
+
+<p>Liza and Tom and the Blakestons had got a seat together, Liza being
+between the two men. Tom was perfectly happy, and only wished that
+they might go on so for ever. Gradually as they drove along they
+became quieter, their singing ceased, and they talked in undertones.
+Some of them slept; Sally and her young man were leaning up against
+one another, slumbering quite peacefully. The night was beautiful, the
+sky still blue, very dark, scattered over with countless brilliant
+stars, and Liza, as she looked up at the heavens, felt a certain
+emotion, as if she wished to be taken in someone's arms, or feel some
+strong man's caress; and there was in her heart a strange sensation as
+though it were growing big. She stopped speaking, and all four were
+silent. Then slowly she felt Tom's arm steal round her waist,
+cautiously, as though it were afraid of being there; this time both
+she and Tom were happy. But suddenly there was a movement on the other
+side of her, a hand was advanced along her leg, and her hand was
+grasped and gently pressed. It was Jim Blakeston. She started a little
+and began trembling so that Tom noticed it, and whispered:</p>
+
+<p>'You're cold, Liza.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I'm not, Tom; it's only a sort of shiver thet went through me.'</p>
+
+<p>His arm gave her waist a squeeze, and at the same time the big rough
+hand pressed her little one. And so she sat between them till they
+reached the 'Red Lion' in the Westminster Bridge Road, and Tom said to
+himself: 'I believe she does care for me after all.'</p>
+
+<p>When they got down they all said good night, and Sally and Liza, with
+their respective slaves and the Blakestons, marched off homewards. At
+the corner of Vere Street Harry said to Tom and Blakeston:</p>
+
+<p>'I say, you blokes, let's go an' 'ave another drink before closin'
+time.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't mind,' said Tom, 'after we've took the gals 'ome.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Then we shan't 'ave time, it's just on closin' time now.' answered
+Harry.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, we can't leave 'em 'ere.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, you can,' said Sally. 'No one'll run awy with us.'</p>
+
+<p>Tom did not want to part from Liza, but she broke in with:</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, go on, Tom. Sally an' me'll git along arright, an' you ain't got
+too much time.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, good night, 'Arry,' said Sally to settle the matter.</p>
+
+<p>'Good night, old gal,' he answered, 'give us another slobber.'</p>
+
+<p>And she, not at all unwilling, surrendered herself to him, while he
+imprinted two sounding kisses on her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>'Good night, Tom,' said Liza, holding out her hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Good night, Liza,' he answered, taking it, but looking very wistfully
+at her.</p>
+
+<p>She understood, and with a kindly smile lifted up her face to him. He
+bent down and, taking her in his arms, kissed her passionately.</p>
+
+<p>'You do kiss nice, Liza,' he said, making the others laugh.</p>
+
+<p>'Thanks for tikin' me aht, old man,' she said as they parted.</p>
+
+<p>'Arright, Liza,' he answered, and added, almost to himself: 'God bless
+yer!'</p>
+
+<p>''Ulloa, Blakeston, ain't you comin'?' said Harry, seeing that Jim was
+walking off with his wife instead of joining him and Tom.</p>
+
+<p>'Na,' he answered, 'I'm goin' 'ome. I've got ter be up at five
+ter-morrer.'</p>
+
+<p>'You are a chap!' said Harry, disgustedly, strolling off with Tom to
+the pub, while the others made their way down the sleeping street.</p>
+
+<p>The house where Sally lived came first, and she left them; then,
+walking a few yards more, they came to the Blakestons', and after a
+little talk at the door Liza bade the couple  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> good night, and was left
+to walk the rest of the way home. The street was perfectly silent, and
+the lamp-posts, far apart, threw a dim light which only served to make
+Lisa realize her solitude. There was such a difference between the
+street at midday, with its swarms of people, and now, when there was
+neither sound nor soul besides herself, that even she was struck by
+it. The regular line of houses on either side, with the even pavements
+and straight, cemented road, seemed to her like some desert place, as
+if everyone were dead, or a fire had raged and left it all desolate.
+Suddenly she heard a footstep, she started and looked back. It was a
+man hurrying behind her, and in a moment she had recognized Jim. He
+beckoned to her, and in a low voice called:</p>
+
+<p>'Liza!'</p>
+
+<p>She stopped till he had come up to her.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot 'ave yer come aht again for?' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'I've come aht ter say good night to you, Liza,' he answered.</p>
+
+<p>'But yer said good night a moment ago.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wanted to say it again&mdash;properly.'</p>
+
+<p>'Where's yer missus?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, she's gone in. I said I was dry and was goin' ter 'ave a drink
+after all.'</p>
+
+<p>'But she'll know yer didn't go ter the pub.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, she won't, she's gone straight upstairs to see after the kid. I
+wanted ter see yer alone, Liza.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why?'</p>
+
+<p>He didn't answer, but tried to take hold of her hand. She drew it away
+quickly. They walked in silence till they came to Liza's house.</p>
+
+<p>'Good night,' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Won't you come for a little walk, Liza?'</p>
+
+<p>'Tike care no one 'ears you,' she added, in a whisper, though why she
+whispered she did not know.</p>
+
+<p>'Will yer?' he asked again.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Na&mdash;you've got to get up at five.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I only said thet not ter go inter the pub with them.'</p>
+
+<p>'So as yer might come 'ere with me?' asked Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus!'</p>
+
+<p>'No, I'm not comin'. Good night.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, say good night nicely.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wot d'yer mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'Tom said you did kiss nice.'</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him without speaking, and in a moment he had clasped his
+arms round her, almost lifting her off her feet, and kissed her. She
+turned her face away.</p>
+
+<p>'Give us yer lips, Liza,' he whispered&mdash;'give us yer lips.'</p>
+
+<p>He turned her face without resistance and kissed her on the mouth.</p>
+
+<p>At last she tore herself from him, and opening the door slid away into
+the house.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span> </p>
+<h2><a name="chapter_6" id="chapter_6"></a>6</h2>
+
+
+<p>Next morning on her way to the factory Liza came up with Sally. They
+were both of them rather stale and bedraggled after the day's outing;
+their fringes were ragged and untidily straying over their foreheads,
+their back hair, carelessly tied in a loose knot, fell over their
+necks and threatened completely to come down. Liza had not had time to
+put her hat on, and was holding it in her hand. Sally's was pinned on
+sideways, and she had to bash it down on her head every now and then
+to prevent its coming off. Cinderella herself was not more transformed
+than they were; but Cinderella even in her rags was virtuously tidy
+and patched up, while Sally had a great tear in her shabby dress, and
+Liza's stockings were falling over her boots.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot cheer, Sal!' said Liza, when she caught her up.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I 'ave got sich a 'ead on me this mornin'!' she remarked, turning
+round a pale face: heavily lined under the eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't feel too chirpy neither,' said Liza, sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>'I wish I 'adn't drunk so much beer,' added Sally, as a pang shot
+through her head.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, you'll be arright in a bit,' said Liza. Just then they heard the
+clock strike eight, and they began to run so that they might not miss
+getting their tokens and thereby their day's pay; they turned into the
+street at the end of which was the factory, and saw half a hundred
+women running like themselves to get in before it was too late.</p>
+
+<p>All the morning Liza worked in a dead-and-alive sort of fashion, her
+head like a piece of lead with electric shocks going through it when
+she moved, and her tongue and mouth hot and dry. At last lunch-time
+came.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Come on, Sal,' said Liza, 'I'm goin' to 'ave a glass o' bitter. I
+can't stand this no longer.'</p>
+
+<p>So they entered the public-house opposite, and in one draught finished
+their pots. Liza gave a long sigh of relief.</p>
+
+<p>'That bucks you up, don't it?'</p>
+
+<p>'I was dry! I ain't told yer yet, Liza, 'ave I? 'E got it aht last
+night.'</p>
+
+<p>'Who d'yer mean?'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, 'Arry. 'E spit it aht at last.'</p>
+
+<p>'Arst yer ter nime the day?' said Liza, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>'Thet's it.'</p>
+
+<p>'And did yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Didn't I jest!' answered Sally, with some emphasis. 'I always told
+yer I'd git off before you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus!' said Liza, thinking.</p>
+
+<p>'Yer know, Liza, you'd better tike Tom; 'e ain't a bad sort.' She was
+quite patronizing.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm goin' ter tike 'oo I like; an' it ain't nobody's business but
+mine.'</p>
+
+<p>'Arright, Liza, don't get shirty over it; I don't mean no offence.'</p>
+
+<p>'What d'yer say it for then?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I thought as seeing as yer'd gone aht with 'im yesterday thet
+yer meant ter after all.'</p>
+
+<p>''E wanted ter tike me; I didn't arsk 'im.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I didn't arsk my 'Arry, either.'</p>
+
+<p>'I never said yer did,' replied Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, you've got the 'ump, you 'ave!' finished Sally, rather angrily.</p>
+
+<p>The beer had restored Liza: she went back to work without a headache,
+and, except for a slight languor, feeling no worse for the previous
+day's debauch. As she worked on she began going over in her mind the
+events of the preceding day, and she found entwined in all her
+thoughts the burly person of Jim Blakeston. She saw him walking by her
+side in the  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span> Forest, presiding over the meals, playing the concertina,
+singing, joking, and finally, on the drive back, she felt the heavy
+form by her side, and the big, rough hand holding hers, while Tom's
+arm was round her waist. Tom! That was the first time he had entered
+her mind, and he sank into a shadow beside the other. Last of all she
+remembered the walk home from the pub, the good nights, and the rapid
+footsteps as Jim caught her up, and the kiss. She blushed and looked
+up quickly to see whether any of the girls were looking at her; she
+could not help thinking of that moment when he took her in his arms;
+she still felt the roughness of his beard pressing on her mouth. Her
+heart seemed to grow larger in her breast, and she caught for breath
+as she threw back her head as if to receive his lips again. A shudder
+ran through her from the vividness of the thought.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot are you shiverin' for, Liza?' asked one of the girls. 'You ain't
+cold.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not much,' answered Liza, blushing awkwardly on her meditations being
+broken into. 'Why, I'm sweatin' so&mdash;I'm drippin' wet.'</p>
+
+<p>'I expect yer caught cold in the Faurest yesterday.'</p>
+
+<p>'I see your mash as I was comin' along this mornin'.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza stared a little.</p>
+
+<p>'I ain't got one, 'oo d'yer mean, ay?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yer only Tom, of course. 'E did look washed aht. Wot was yer doin'
+with 'im yesterday?'</p>
+
+<p>''E ain't got nothin' ter do with me, 'e ain't.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn, don't you tell me!'</p>
+
+<p>The bell rang, and, throwing over their work, the girls trooped off,
+and after chattering in groups outside the factory gates for a while,
+made their way in different directions to their respective homes. Liza
+and Sally went along together.</p>
+
+<p>'I sy, we are comin' aht!' cried Sally, seeing the advertisement of a
+play being acted at the neighbouring theatre.</p>
+
+<p>'I should like ter see thet!' said Liza, as they stood arm-in-arm  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span> in
+front of the flaring poster. It represented two rooms and a passage in
+between; in one room a dead man was lying on the floor, while two
+others were standing horror-stricken, listening to a youth who was in
+the passage, knocking at the door.</p>
+
+<p>'You see, they've 'killed im,' said Sally, excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, any fool can see thet! an' the one ahtside, wot's 'e doin' of?'</p>
+
+<p>'Ain't 'e beautiful? I'll git my 'Arry ter tike me, I will. I should
+like ter see it. 'E said 'e'd tike me to the ply.'</p>
+
+<p>They strolled on again, and Liza, leaving Sally, made her way to her
+mother's. She knew she must pass Jim's house, and wondered whether she
+would see him. But as she walked along the street she saw Tom coming
+the opposite way; with a sudden impulse she turned back so as not to
+meet him, and began walking the way she had come. Then thinking
+herself a fool for what she had done, she turned again and walked
+towards him. She wondered if she had seen her or noticed her movement,
+but when she looked down the street he was nowhere to be seen; he had
+not caught sight of her, and had evidently gone in to see a mate in
+one or other of the houses. She quickened her step, and passing the
+house where lived Jim, could not help looking up; he was standing at
+the door watching her, with a smile on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't see yer, Mr. Blakeston,' she said, as he came up to her.</p>
+
+<p>'Didn't yer? Well, I knew yer would; an' I was witin' for yer ter look
+up. I see yer before ter-day.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, when?'</p>
+
+<p>'I passed be'ind yer as you an' thet other girl was lookin' at the
+advertisement of thet ply.'</p>
+
+<p>'I never see yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I know yer didn't. I 'ear yer say, you says: "I should like to
+see thet."'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, an' I should too.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Well, I'll tike yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'You?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus; why not?'</p>
+
+<p>'I like thet; wot would yer missus sy?'</p>
+
+<p>'She wouldn't know.'</p>
+
+<p>'But the neighbours would!'</p>
+
+<p>'No they wouldn't, no one 'd see us.'</p>
+
+<p>He was speaking in a low voice so that people could not hear.</p>
+
+<p>'You could meet me ahtside the theatre,' he went on.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I couldn't go with you; you're a married man.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn! wot's the matter&mdash;jest ter go ter the ply? An' besides, my
+missus can't come if she wanted, she's got the kids ter look after.'</p>
+
+<p>'I should like ter see it,' said Liza meditatively.</p>
+
+<p>They had reached her house, and Jim said:</p>
+
+<p>'Well, come aht this evenin' and tell me if yer will&mdash;eh, Liza?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I'm not comin' aht this evening.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thet won't 'urt yer. I shall wite for yer.'</p>
+
+<p>''Tain't a bit of good your witing', 'cause I shan't come.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, then, look 'ere, Liza; next Saturday night's the last night,
+an' I shall go to the theatre, any'ow. An' if you'll come, you just
+come to the door at 'alf-past six, an' you'll find me there. See?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I don't,' said Liza, firmly.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I shall expect yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'I shan't come, so you needn't expect.' And with that she walked into
+the house and slammed the door behind her.</p>
+
+<p>Her mother had not come in from her day's charing, and Liza set about
+getting her tea. She thought it would be rather lonely eating it
+alone, so pouring out a cup of tea and putting a little condensed milk
+into it, she cut a huge piece of bread-and-butter, and sat herself
+down outside on the doorstep.  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span> Another woman came downstairs, and
+seeing Liza, sat down by her side and began to talk.</p>
+
+<p>'Why, Mrs. Stanley, wot 'ave yer done to your 'ead?' asked Liza,
+noticing a bandage round her forehead.</p>
+
+<p>'I 'ad an accident last night,' answered the woman, blushing uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I am sorry! Wot did yer do to yerself?'</p>
+
+<p>'I fell against the coal-scuttle and cut my 'ead open.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I never!'</p>
+
+<p>'To tell yer the truth, I 'ad a few words with my old man. But one
+doesn't like them things to get abaht; yer won't tell anyone, will
+yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Not me!' answered Liza. 'I didn't know yer husband was like thet.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, 'e's as gentle as a lamb when 'e's sober,' said Mrs. Stanley,
+apologetically. 'But, Lor' bless yer, when 'e's 'ad a drop too much
+'e's a demond, an' there's no two ways abaht it.'</p>
+
+<p>'An' you ain't been married long neither?' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, not above eighteen months; ain't it disgriceful? Thet's wot the
+doctor at the 'orspital says ter me. I 'ad ter go ter the 'orspital.
+You should have seen 'ow it bled!&mdash;it bled all dahn' my fice, and went
+streamin' like a bust waterpipe. Well, it fair frightened my old man,
+an' I says ter 'im, "I'll charge yer," an' although I was bleedin'
+like a bloomin' pig I shook my fist at 'im, an' I says, "I'll charge
+ye&mdash;see if I don't!" An' 'e says, "Na," says 'e, "don't do thet, for
+God's sike, Kitie, I'll git three months." "An' serve yer damn well
+right!" says I, an' I went aht an' left 'im. But, Lor' bless yer, I
+wouldn't charge 'im! I know 'e don't mean it; 'e's as gentle as a lamb
+when 'e's sober.' She smiled quite affectionately as she said this.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot did yer do, then?' asked Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, as I wos tellin' yer, I went to the 'orspital, an' the doctor
+'e says to me, "My good woman," says 'e, "you  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span> might have been very
+seriously injured." An' me not been married eighteen months! An' as I
+was tellin' the doctor all about it, "Missus," 'e says ter me, lookin'
+at me straight in the eyeball. "Missus," says 'e, "'ave you been
+drinkin'?" "Drinkin'?" says I; "no! I've 'ad a little drop, but as for
+drinkin'! Mind," says I, "I don't say I'm a teetotaller&mdash;I'm not, I
+'ave my glass of beer, and I like it. I couldn't do withaht it, wot
+with the work I 'ave, I must 'ave somethin' ter keep me tergether. But
+as for drinkin' 'eavily! Well! I can say this, there ain't a soberer
+woman than myself in all London. Why, my first 'usband never touched a
+drop. Ah, my first 'usband, 'e was a beauty, 'e was."'</p>
+
+<p>She stopped the repetition of her conversation and addressed herself
+to Liza.</p>
+
+<p>''E was thet different ter this one. 'E was a man as 'ad seen better
+days. 'E was a gentleman!' She mouthed the word and emphasized it with
+an expressive nod.</p>
+
+<p>''E was a gentleman and a Christian. 'E'd been in good circumstances
+in 'is time; an' 'e was a man of education and a teetotaller, for
+twenty-two years.'</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Liza's mother appeared on the scene.</p>
+
+<p>'Good evenin', Mrs. Stanley,' she said, politely.</p>
+
+<p>'The sime ter you, Mrs. Kemp.' replied that lady, with equal courtesy.</p>
+
+<p>'An' 'ow is your poor 'ead?' asked Liza's mother, with sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, it's been achin' cruel. I've hardly known wot ter do with
+myself.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'm sure 'e ought ter be ashimed of 'imself for treatin' yer like
+thet.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, it wasn't 'is blows I minded so much, Mrs. Kemp,' replied Mrs.
+Stanley, 'an' don't you think it. It was wot 'e said ter me. I can
+stand a blow as well as any woman. I don't mind thet, an' when 'e
+don't tike a mean advantage of me I can stand up for myself an' give
+as good as I tike; an' many's  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> the time I give my fust husband a black
+eye. But the language 'e used, an' the things 'e called me! It made me
+blush to the roots of my 'air; I'm not used ter bein' spoken ter like
+thet. I was in good circumstances when my fust 'usband was alive, 'e
+earned between two an' three pound a week, 'e did. As I said to 'im
+this mornin', "'Ow a gentleman can use sich language, I dunno."'</p>
+
+<p>''Usbands is cautions, 'owever good they are,' said Mrs. Kemp,
+aphoristically. 'But I mustn't stay aht 'ere in the night air.'</p>
+
+<p>''As yer rheumatism been troublin' yer litely?' asked Mrs. Stanley.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, cruel. Liza rubs me with embrocation every night, but it torments
+me cruel.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kemp then went into the house, and Liza remained talking to Mrs.
+Stanley, she, too, had to go in, and Liza was left alone. Some while
+she spent thinking of nothing, staring vacantly in front of her,
+enjoying the cool and quiet of the evening. But Liza could not be left
+alone long, several boys came along with a bat and a ball, and fixed
+upon the road just in front of her for their pitch. Taking off their
+coats they piled them up at the two ends, and were ready to begin.</p>
+
+<p>'I say, old gal,' said one of them to Liza, 'come an' have a gime of
+cricket, will yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, Bob, I'm tired.'</p>
+
+<p>'Come on!'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I tell you I won't.'</p>
+
+<p>'She was on the booze yesterday, an' she ain't got over it,' cried
+another boy.</p>
+
+<p>'I'll swipe yer over the snitch!' replied Liza to him, and then on
+being asked again, said:</p>
+
+<p>'Leave me alone, won't yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Liza's got the needle ter-night, thet's flat,' commented a third
+member of the team.</p>
+
+<p>'I wouldn't drink if I was you, Liza,' added another, with  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> mock
+gravity. 'It's a bad 'abit ter git into,' and he began rolling and
+swaying about like a drunken man.</p>
+
+<p>If Liza had been 'in form' she would have gone straight away and given
+the whole lot of them a sample of her strength; but she was only
+rather bored and vexed that they should disturb her quietness, so she
+let them talk. They saw she was not to be drawn, and leaving her, set
+to their game. She watched them for some time, but her thoughts
+gradually lost themselves, and insensibly her mind was filled with a
+burly form, and she was again thinking of Jim.</p>
+
+<p>''E is a good sort ter want ter tike me ter the ply,' she said to
+herself. 'Tom never arst me!'</p>
+
+<p>Jim had said he would come out in the evening; he ought to be here
+soon, she thought. Of course she wasn't going to the theatre with him,
+but she didn't mind talking to him; she rather enjoyed being asked to
+do a thing and refusing, and she would have liked another opportunity
+of doing so. But he didn't come and he had said he would!</p>
+
+<p>'I say, Bill,' she said at last to one of the boys who was fielding
+close beside her, 'that there Blakeston&mdash;d'you know 'im?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yes, rather; why, he works at the sime plice as me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wot's 'e do with 'isself in the evening; I never see 'im abaht?'</p>
+
+<p>'I dunno. I see 'im this evenin' go into the "Red Lion". I suppose
+'e's there, but I dunno.'</p>
+
+<p>Then he wasn't coming. Of course she had told him she was going to
+stay indoors, but he might have come all the same&mdash;just to see.</p>
+
+<p>'I know Tom 'ud 'ave come,' she said to herself, rather sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>'Liza! Liza!' she heard her mother's voice calling her.</p>
+
+<p>'Arright, I'm comin',' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'I've been witin' for you this last 'alf-hour ter rub me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why didn't yer call?' asked Liza.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'I did call. I've been callin' this last I dunno 'ow long; it's give
+me quite a sore throat.'</p>
+
+<p>'I never 'eard yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, yer didn't want ter 'ear me, did yer? Yer don't mind if I dies
+with rheumatics, do yer? I know.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza did not answer, but took the bottle, and, pouring some of the
+liniment on her hand, began to rub it into Mrs. Kemp's rheumatic
+joints, while the invalid kept complaining and grumbling at everything
+Liza did.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't rub so 'ard, Liza, you'll rub all the skin off.'</p>
+
+<p>Then when Liza did it as gently as she could, she grumbled again.</p>
+
+<p>'If yer do it like thet, it won't do no good at all. You want ter sive
+yerself trouble&mdash;I know yer. When I was young girls didn't mind a
+little bit of 'ard work&mdash;but, law bless yer, you don't care abaht my
+rheumatics, do yer?'</p>
+
+<p>At last she finished, and Liza went to bed by her mother's side.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> </p>
+<h2><a name="chapter_7" id="chapter_7"></a>7</h2>
+
+
+<p>Two days passed, and it was Friday morning. Liza had got up early and
+strolled off to her work in good time, but she did not meet her
+faithful Sally on the way, nor find her at the factory when she
+herself arrived. The bell rang and all the girls trooped in, but still
+Sally did not come. Liza could not make it out, and was thinking she
+would be shut out, when just as the man who gave out the tokens for
+the day's work was pulling down the shutter in front of his window,
+Sally arrived, breathless and perspiring.</p>
+
+<p>'Whew! Go' lumme, I am 'ot!' she said, wiping her face with her apron.</p>
+
+<p>'I thought you wasn't comin',' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I only just did it; I overslep' myself. I was aht lite last
+night.'</p>
+
+<p>'Were yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Me an' 'Arry went ter see the ply. Oh, Liza, it's simply spiffin'!
+I've never see sich a good ply in my life. Lor'! Why, it mikes yer
+blood run cold: they 'ang a man on the stige; oh, it mide me creep all
+over!'</p>
+
+<p>And then she began telling Liza all about it&mdash;the blood and thunder,
+the shooting, the railway train, the murder, the bomb, the hero, the
+funny man&mdash;jumbling everything up in her excitement, repeating little
+scraps of dialogue&mdash;all wrong&mdash;gesticulating, getting excited and red
+in the face at the recollection. Liza listened rather crossly, feeling
+bored at the detail into which Sally was going: the piece really
+didn't much interest her.</p>
+
+<p>'One 'ud think yer'd never been to a theatre in your life before,' she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>'I never seen anything so good, I can tell yer. You tike my tip, and
+git Tom ter tike yer.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'I don't want ter go; an' if I did I'd py for myself an' go alone.'</p>
+
+<p>'Cheese it! That ain't 'alf so good. Me an' 'Arry, we set together,
+'im with 'is arm round my wiste and me oldin' 'is 'and. It was jam, I
+can tell yer!'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I don't want anyone sprawlin' me abaht, thet ain't my mark!'</p>
+
+<p>'But I do like 'Arry; you dunno the little ways 'e 'as; an' we're
+goin' ter be married in three weeks now. 'Arry said, well, 'e says,
+"I'll git a licence." "Na," says I, "'ave the banns read aht in
+church: it seems more reg'lar like to 'ave banns; so they're goin' ter
+be read aht next Sunday. You'll come with me 'an 'ear them, won't yer,
+Liza?"'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, I don't mind.'</p>
+
+<p>On the way home Sally insisted on stopping in front of the poster and
+explaining to Liza all about the scene represented.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, you give me the sick with your "Fital Card", you do! I'm goin'
+'ome.' And she left Sally in the midst of her explanation.</p>
+
+<p>'I dunno wot's up with Liza,' remarked Sally to a mutual friend.
+'She's always got the needle, some'ow.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, she's barmy,' answered the friend.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I do think she's a bit dotty sometimes&mdash;I do really,' rejoined
+Sally.</p>
+
+<p>Liza walked homewards, thinking of the play; at length she tossed her
+head impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't want ter see the blasted thing; an' if I see that there Jim
+I'll tell 'im so; swop me bob, I will.'</p>
+
+<p>She did see him; he was leaning with his back against the wall of his
+house, smoking. Liza knew he had seen her, and as she walked by
+pretended not to have noticed him. To her disgust, he let her pass,
+and she was thinking he hadn't seen her after all, when she heard him
+call her name.</p>
+
+<p>'Liza!'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span> </p>
+
+<p>She turned round and started with surprise very well imitated. 'I
+didn't see you was there!' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'Why did yer pretend not ter notice me, as yer went past&mdash;eh, Liza?'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, I didn't see yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn! But you ain't shirty with me?'</p>
+
+<p>'Wot 'ave I got to be shirty abaht?'</p>
+
+<p>He tried to take her hand, but she drew it away quickly. She was
+getting used to the movement. They went on talking, but Jim did not
+mention the theatre; Liza was surprised, and wondered whether he had
+forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>'Er&mdash;Sally went to the ply last night,' she said, at last.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' he said, and that was all.</p>
+
+<p>She got impatient.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I'm off!' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, don't go yet; I want ter talk ter yer,' he replied.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot abaht? anythin' in partickler?' She would drag it out of him if
+she possibly could.</p>
+
+<p>'Not thet I knows on,' he said, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>'Good night!' she said, abruptly, turning away from him.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I'm damned if 'e ain't forgotten!' she said to herself,
+sulkily, as she marched home.</p>
+
+<p>The following evening about six o'clock, it suddenly struck her that
+it was the last night of the 'New and Sensational Drama'.</p>
+
+<p>'I do like thet Jim Blakeston,' she said to herself; 'fancy treatin'
+me like thet! You wouldn't catch Tom doin' sich a thing. Bli'me if I
+speak to 'im again, the &mdash;&mdash;. Now I shan't see it at all. I've a good
+mind ter go on my own 'ook. Fancy 'is forgettin' all abaht it, like
+thet!'</p>
+
+<p>She was really quite indignant; though, as she had distinctly refused
+Jim's offer, it was rather hard to see why.</p>
+
+<p>''E said 'e'd wite for me ahtside the doors; I wonder if 'e's there.
+I'll go an' see if 'e is, see if I don't&mdash;an' then if 'e's there, I'll
+go in on my own 'ook, jist ter spite 'im!'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span> </p>
+
+<p>She dressed herself in her best, and, so that the neighbours shouldn't
+see her, went up a passage between some model lodging-house buildings,
+and in this roundabout way got into the Westminster Bridge Road, and
+soon found herself in front of the theatre.</p>
+
+<p>'I've been witin' for yer this 'alf-hour.'</p>
+
+<p>She turned round and saw Jim standing just behind her.</p>
+
+<p>''Oo are you talkin' to? I'm not goin' to the ply with you. Wot d'yer
+tike me for, eh?'</p>
+
+<p>''Oo are yer goin' with, then?'</p>
+
+<p>'I'm goin' alone.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn! don't be a bloomin' jackass!'</p>
+
+<p>Liza was feeling very injured.</p>
+
+<p>'Thet's 'ow you treat me! I shall go 'ome. Why didn't you come aht the
+other night?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yer told me not ter.'</p>
+
+<p>She snorted at the ridiculous ineptitude of the reply.</p>
+
+<p>'Why didn't you say nothin' abaht it yesterday?'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, I thought you'd come if I didn't talk on it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I think you're a &mdash;&mdash; brute!' She felt very much inclined to cry.</p>
+
+<p>'Come on, Liza, don't tike on; I didn't mean no offence.' And be put
+his arm round her waist and led her to take their places at the
+gallery door. Two tears escaped from the corners of her eyes and ran
+down her nose, but she felt very relieved and happy, and let him lead
+her where he would.</p>
+
+<p>There was a long string of people waiting at the door, and Liza was
+delighted to see a couple of niggers who were helping them to while
+away the time of waiting. The niggers sang and danced, and made faces,
+while the people looked on with appreciative gravity, like royalty
+listening to de Resk&eacute;, and they were very generous of applause and
+halfpence at the end of the performance. Then, when the niggers moved
+to the pit doors, paper boys came along offering <i>Tit-Bits</i> and 'extra
+ <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span> specials'; after that three little girls came round and sang
+sentimental songs and collected more halfpence. At last a movement ran
+through the serpent-like string of people, sounds were heard behind
+the door, everyone closed up, the men told the women to keep close and
+hold tight; there was a great unbarring and unbolting, the doors were
+thrown open, and, like a bursting river, the people surged in.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour more and the curtain went up. The play was indeed
+thrilling. Liza quite forgot her companion, and was intent on the
+scene; she watched the incidents breathlessly, trembling with
+excitement, almost beside herself at the celebrated hanging incident.
+When the curtain fell on the first act she sighed and mopped her face.</p>
+
+<p>'See 'ow 'ot I am.' she said to Jim, giving him her hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, you are!' he remarked, taking it.</p>
+
+<p>'Leave go!' she said, trying to withdraw it from him.</p>
+
+<p>'Not much,' he answered, quite boldly.</p>
+
+<p>'Garn! Leave go!' But he didn't, and she really did not struggle very
+violently.</p>
+
+<p>The second act came, and she shrieked over the comic man; and her
+laughter rang higher than anyone else's, so that people turned to look
+at her, and said:</p>
+
+<p>'She is enjoyin' 'erself.'</p>
+
+<p>Then when the murder came she bit her nails and the sweat stood on her
+forehead in great drops; in her excitement she even called out as loud
+as she could to the victim, 'Look aht!' It caused a laugh and
+slackened the tension, for the whole house was holding its breath as
+it looked at the villains listening at the door, creeping silently
+forward, crawling like tigers to their prey.</p>
+
+<p>Liza trembling all over, and in her terror threw herself against Jim,
+who put both his arms round her, and said:</p>
+
+<p>'Don't be afride, Liza; it's all right.'</p>
+
+<p>At last the men sprang, there was a scuffle, and the wretch was
+killed, then came the scene depicted on the posters&mdash;the  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> victim's son
+knocking at the door, on the inside of which were the murderers and
+the murdered man. At last the curtain came down, and the house in
+relief burst forth into cheers and cheers; the handsome hero in his
+top hat was greeted thunderously; the murdered man, with his clothes
+still all disarranged, was hailed with sympathy; and the villains&mdash;the
+house yelled and hissed and booed, while the poor brutes bowed and
+tried to look as if they liked it.</p>
+
+<p>'I am enjoyin' myself,' said Liza, pressing herself quite close to
+Jim; 'you are a good sort ter tike me&mdash;Jim.'</p>
+
+<p>He gave her a little hug, and it struck her that she was sitting just
+as Sally had done, and, like Sally, she found it 'jam'.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>entr'actes</i> were short and the curtain was soon up again, and the
+comic man raised customary laughter by undressing and exposing his
+nether garments to the public view; then more tragedy, and the final
+act with its darkened room, its casting lots, and its explosion.</p>
+
+<p>When it was all over and they had got outside Jim smacked his lips and
+said:</p>
+
+<p>'I could do with a gargle; let's go onto thet pub there.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'm as dry as bone,' said Liza; and so they went.</p>
+
+<p>When they got in they discovered they were hungry, and seeing some
+appetising sausage-rolls, ate of them, and washed them down with a
+couple of pots of beer; then Jim lit his pipe and they strolled off.
+They had got quite near the Westminster Bridge Road when Jim suggested
+that they should go and have one more drink before closing time.</p>
+
+<p>'I shall be tight,' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Thet don't matter,' answered Jim, laughing. 'You ain't got ter go ter
+work in the mornin' an' you can sleep it aht.'</p>
+
+<p>'Arright, I don't mind if I do then, in for a penny, in for a pound.'</p>
+
+<p>At the pub door she drew back.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'I say, guv'ner,' she said, 'there'll be some of the coves from dahn
+our street, and they'll see us.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, there won't be nobody there, don't yer 'ave no fear.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't like ter go in for fear of it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, we ain't doin' no 'arm if they does see us, an' we can go into
+the private bar, an' you bet your boots there won't be no one there.'</p>
+
+<p>She yielded, and they went in.</p>
+
+<p>'Two pints of bitter, please, miss,' ordered Jim.</p>
+
+<p>'I say, 'old 'ard. I can't drink more than 'alf a pint,' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Cheese it,' answered Jim. 'You can do with all you can get, I know.'</p>
+
+<p>At closing time they left and walked down the broad road which led
+homewards.</p>
+
+<p>'Let's 'ave a little sit dahn,' said Jim, pointing to an empty bench
+between two trees.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, it's gettin' lite; I want ter be 'ome.'</p>
+
+<p>'It's such a fine night, it's a pity ter go in already;' and he drew
+her unresisting towards the seat. He put his arm round her waist.</p>
+
+<p>'Un'and me, villin!' she said, in apt misquotation of the melodrama,
+but Jim only laughed, and she made no effort to disengage herself.</p>
+
+<p>They sat there for a long while in silence; the beer had got to Liza's
+head, and the warm night air filled her with a double intoxication.
+She felt the arm round her waist, and the big, heavy form pressing
+against her side; she experienced again the curious sensation as if
+her heart were about to burst, and it choked her&mdash;a feeling so
+oppressive and painful it almost made her feel sick. Her hands began
+to tremble, and her breathing grew rapid, as though she were
+suffocating. Almost fainting, she swayed over towards the man, and a
+cold shiver ran through her from top to toe. Jim bent over her, and,
+taking her in both arms, he pressed his  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span> lips to hers in a long,
+passionate kiss. At last, panting for breath, she turned her head away
+and groaned.</p>
+
+<p>Then they again sat for a long while in silence, Liza full of a
+strange happiness, feeling as if she could laugh aloud hysterically,
+but restrained by the calm and silence of the night. Close behind
+struck a church clock&mdash;one.</p>
+
+<p>'Bless my soul!' said Liza, starting, 'there's one o'clock. I must get
+'ome.'</p>
+
+<p>'It's so nice out 'ere; do sty, Liza.' He pressed her closer to him.
+'Yer know, Liza, I love yer&mdash;fit ter kill.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I can't stay; come on.' She got up from the seat, and pulled him
+up too. 'Come on,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>Without speaking they went along, and there was no one to be seen
+either in front or behind them. He had not got his arm round her now,
+and they were walking side by side, slightly separated. It was Liza
+who spoke first.</p>
+
+<p>'You'd better go dahn the Road and by the church an' git into Vere
+Street the other end, an' I'll go through the passage, so thet no one
+shouldn't see us comin' together,' she spoke almost in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>'Arright, Liza,' he answered, 'I'll do just as you tell me.'</p>
+
+<p>They came to the passage of which Liza spoke; it was a narrow way
+between blank walls, the backs of factories, and it led into the upper
+end of Vere Street. The entrance to it was guarded by two iron posts
+in the middle so that horses or barrows should not be taken through.</p>
+
+<p>They had just got to it when a man came out into the open road. Liza
+quickly turned her head away.</p>
+
+<p>'I wonder if 'e see us,' she said, when he had passed out of earshot.
+''E's lookin' back,' she added.</p>
+
+<p>'Why, 'oo is it?' asked Jim.</p>
+
+<p>'It's a man aht of our street,' she answered. 'I dunno 'im, but I know
+where 'e lodges. D'yer think 'e sees us?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, 'e wouldn't know 'oo it was in the dark.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'But he looked round; all the street'll know it if he see us.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, we ain't doin' no 'arm.'</p>
+
+<p>She stretched out her hand to say good night.</p>
+
+<p>'I'll come a wy with yer along the passage,' said Jim.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, you mustn't; you go straight round.'</p>
+
+<p>'But it's so dark; p'raps summat'll 'appen to yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not it! You go on 'ome an' leave me,' she replied, and entering the
+passage, stood facing him with one of the iron pillars between them.</p>
+
+<p>'Good night, old cock,' she said, stretching out her hand. He took it,
+and said:</p>
+
+<p>'I wish yer wasn't goin' ter leave me, Liza.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn! I must!' She tried to get her hand away from his, but he held
+it firm, resting it on the top of the pillar.</p>
+
+<p>'Leave go my 'and,' she said. He made no movement, but looked into her
+eyes steadily, so that it made her uneasy. She repented having come
+out with him. 'Leave go my 'and.' And she beat down on his with her
+closed fist.</p>
+
+<p>'Liza!' he said, at last.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, wot is it?' she answered, still thumping down on his hand with
+her fist.</p>
+
+<p>'Liza,' he said a whisper, 'will yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Will I wot?' she said, looking down.</p>
+
+<p>'You know, Liza. Sy, will yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>He bent over her and repeated&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'Will yer?'</p>
+
+<p>She did not speak, but kept beating down on his hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Liza,' he said again, his voice growing hoarse and thick&mdash;'Liza, will
+yer?'</p>
+
+<p>She still kept silence, looking away and continually bringing down her
+fist. He looked at her a moment, and she, ceasing to thump his hand,
+looked up at him with  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> half-opened mouth. Suddenly he shook himself,
+and closing his fist gave her a violent, swinging blow in the belly.</p>
+
+<p>'Come on,' he said.</p>
+
+<p>And together they slid down into the darkness of the passage.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span> </p>
+<h2><a name="chapter_8" id="chapter_8"></a>8</h2>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Kemp was in the habit of slumbering somewhat heavily on Sunday
+mornings, or Liza would not have been allowed to go on sleeping as she
+did. When she woke, she rubbed her eyes to gather her senses together
+and gradually she remembered having gone to the theatre on the
+previous evening; then suddenly everything came back to her. She
+stretched out her legs and gave a long sigh of delight. Her heart was
+full; she thought of Jim, and the delicious sensation of love came
+over her. Closing her eyes, she imagined his warm kisses, and she
+lifted up her arms as if to put them round his neck and draw him down
+to her; she almost felt the rough beard on her face, and the strong
+heavy arms round her body. She smiled to herself and took a long
+breath; then, slipping back the sleeves of her nightdress, she looked
+at her own thin arms, just two pieces of bone with not a muscle on
+them, but very white and showing distinctly the interlacement of blue
+veins: she did not notice that her hands were rough, and red and dirty
+with the nails broken, and bitten to the quick. She got out of bed and
+looked at herself in the glass over the mantelpiece: with one hand she
+brushed back her hair and smiled at herself; her face was very small
+and thin, but the complexion was nice, clear and white, with a
+delicate tint of red on the cheeks, and her eyes were big and dark
+like her hair. She felt very happy.</p>
+
+<p>She did not want to dress yet, but rather to sit down and think, so
+she twisted up her hair into a little knot, slipped a skirt over her
+nightdress, and sat on a chair near the window and began looking
+around. The decorations of the room had been centred on the
+mantelpiece; the chief ornament consisted of a pear and an apple, a
+pineapple, a bunch of grapes, and several fat plums, all very
+beautifully done in wax, as  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span> was the fashion about the middle of this
+most glorious reign. They were appropriately coloured&mdash;the apple
+blushing red, the grapes an inky black, emerald green leaves were
+scattered here and there to lend finish, and the whole was mounted on
+an ebonised stand covered with black velvet, and protected from dust
+and dirt by a beautiful glass cover bordered with red plush. Liza's
+eyes rested on this with approbation, and the pineapple quite made her
+mouth water. At either end of the mantelpiece were pink jars with blue
+flowers on the front; round the top in Gothic letters of gold was
+inscribed: 'A Present from a Friend'&mdash;these were products of a later,
+but not less artistic age. The intervening spaces were taken up with
+little jars and cups and saucers&mdash;gold inside, with a view of a town
+outside, and surrounding them, 'A Present from Clacton-on-Sea,' or,
+alliteratively, 'A Memento of Margate.' Of these many were broken, but
+they had been mended with glue, and it is well known that pottery in
+the eyes of the connoisseur loses none of its value by a crack or two.
+Then there were portraits innumerable&mdash;little yellow cartes-de-visite
+in velvet frames, some of which were decorated with shells; they
+showed strange people with old-fashioned clothes, the women with
+bodices and sleeves fitting close to the figure, stern-featured
+females with hair carefully parted in the middle and plastered down on
+each side, firm chins and mouths, with small, pig-like eyes and
+wrinkled faces, and the men were uncomfortably clad in Sunday
+garments, very stiff and uneasy in their awkward postures, with large
+whiskers and shaved chins and upper lips and a general air of
+horny-handed toil. Then there were one or two daguerreotypes, little
+full-length figures framed in gold paper. There was one of Mrs. Kemp's
+father and one of her mother, and there were several photographs of
+betrothed or newly-married couples, the lady sitting down and the man
+standing behind her with his hand on the chair, or the man sitting and
+the woman with her hand on his shoulder.  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> And from all sides of the
+room, standing on the mantelpiece, hanging above it, on the wall and
+over the bed, they stared full-face into the room, self-consciously
+fixed for ever in their stiff discomfort.</p>
+
+<p>The walls were covered with dingy, antiquated paper, and ornamented
+with coloured supplements from Christmas Numbers&mdash;there was a very
+patriotic picture of a soldier shaking the hand of a fallen comrade
+and waving his arm in defiance of a band of advancing Arabs; there was
+a 'Cherry Ripe,' almost black with age and dirt; there were two
+almanacks several years old, one with a coloured portrait of the
+Marquess of Lorne, very handsome and elegantly dressed, the object of
+Mrs. Kemp's adoration since her husband's demise; the other a Jubilee
+portrait of the Queen, somewhat losing in dignity by a moustache which
+Liza in an irreverent moment had smeared on with charcoal.</p>
+
+<p>The furniture consisted of a wash-hand stand and a little deal chest
+of drawers, which acted as sideboard to such pots and pans and
+crockery as could not find room in the grate; and besides the bed
+there was nothing but two kitchen chairs and a lamp. Liza looked at it
+all and felt perfectly satisfied; she put a pin into one corner of the
+noble Marquess to prevent him from falling, fiddled about with the
+ornaments a little, and then started washing herself. After putting on
+her clothes she ate some bread-and-butter, swallowed a dishful of cold
+tea, and went out into the street.</p>
+
+<p>She saw some boys playing cricket and went up to them.</p>
+
+<p>'Let me ply,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'Arright, Liza,' cried half a dozen of them in delight; and the
+captain added: 'You go an' scout over by the lamp-post.'</p>
+
+<p>'Go an' scout my eye!' said Liza, indignantly. 'When I ply cricket I
+does the battin'.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, you're not goin' ter bat all the time. 'Oo are you gettin' at?'
+replied the captain, who had taken advantage  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> of his position to put
+himself in first, and was still at the wicket.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, then I shan't ply,' answered Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Garn, Ernie, let 'er go in!' shouted two or three members of the
+team.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I'm busted!' remarked the captain, as she took his bat. 'You
+won't sty in long, I lay,' he said, as he sent the old bowler fielding
+and took the ball himself. He was a young gentleman who did not suffer
+from excessive backwardness.</p>
+
+<p>'Aht!' shouted a dozen voices as the ball went past Liza's bat and
+landed in the pile of coats which formed the wicket. The captain came
+forward to resume his innings, but Liza held the bat away from him.</p>
+
+<p>'Garn!' she said; 'thet was only a trial.'</p>
+
+<p>'You never said trial,' answered the captain indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, I did,' said Liza; 'I said it just as the ball was comin'&mdash;under
+my breath.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I am busted!' repeated the captain.</p>
+
+<p>Just then Liza saw Tom among the lookers-on, and as she felt very
+kindly disposed to the world in general that morning, she called out
+to him:</p>
+
+<p>''Ulloa, Tom!' she said. 'Come an' give us a ball; this chap can't
+bowl.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I got yer aht, any'ow,' said that person.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, yer wouldn't 'ave got me aht plyin' square. But a trial
+ball&mdash;well, one don't ever know wot a trial ball's goin' ter do.'</p>
+
+<p>Tom began bowling very slowly and easily, so that Liza could swing her
+bat round and hit mightily; she ran well, too, and pantingly brought
+up her score to twenty. Then the fielders interposed.</p>
+
+<p>'I sy, look 'ere, 'e's only givin' 'er lobs; 'e's not tryin' ter git
+'er aht.'</p>
+
+<p>'You're spoilin' our gime.'</p>
+
+<p>'I don't care; I've got twenty runs&mdash;thet's more than you  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span> could do.
+I'll go aht now of my own accord, so there! Come on, Tom.'</p>
+
+<p>Tom joined her, and as the captain at last resumed his bat and the
+game went on, they commenced talking, Liza leaning against the wall of
+a house, while Tom stood in front of her, smiling with pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>'Where 'ave you been idin' yerself, Tom? I ain't seen yer for I dunno
+'ow long.'</p>
+
+<p>'I've been abaht as usual; an' I've seen you when you didn't see me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, yer might 'ave come up and said good mornin' when you see me.'</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't want ter force myself on, yer, Liza.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn! You are a bloomin' cuckoo. I'm blowed!'</p>
+
+<p>'I thought yer didn't like me 'angin' round yer; so I kep' awy.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, yer talks as if I didn't like yer. Yer don't think I'd 'ave come
+aht beanfeastin' with yer if I 'adn't liked yer?'</p>
+
+<p>Liza was really very dishonest, but she felt so happy this morning
+that she loved the whole world, and of course Tom came in with the
+others. She looked very kindly at him, and he was so affected that a
+great lump came in his throat and he could not speak.</p>
+
+<p>Liza's eyes turned to Jim's house, and she saw coming out of the door
+a girl of about her own age; she fancied she saw in her some likeness
+to Jim.</p>
+
+<p>'Say, Tom,' she asked, 'thet ain't Blakeston's daughter, is it?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus thet's it.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'll go an' speak to 'er,' said Liza, leaving Tom and going over the
+road.</p>
+
+<p>'You're Polly Blakeston, ain't yer?' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'Thet's me!' said the girl.</p>
+
+<p>'I thought you was. Your dad, 'e says ter me, "You dunno  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> my daughter,
+Polly, do yer?" says 'e. "Na," says I, "I don't." "Well," says 'e,
+"You can't miss 'er when you see 'er." An' right enough I didn't.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mother says I'm all father, an' there ain't nothin' of 'er in me. Dad
+says it's lucky it ain't the other wy abaht, or e'd 'ave got a
+divorce.'</p>
+
+<p>They both laughed.</p>
+
+<p>'Where are you goin' now?' asked Liza, looking at the slop-basin she
+was carrying.</p>
+
+<p>'I was just goin' dahn into the road ter get some ice-cream for
+dinner. Father 'ad a bit of luck last night, 'e says, and 'e'd stand
+the lot of us ice-cream for dinner ter-day.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'll come with yer if yer like.'</p>
+
+<p>'Come on!' And, already friends, they walked arm-in-arm to the
+Westminster Bridge Road. Then they went along till they came to a
+stall where an Italian was selling the required commodity, and having
+had a taste apiece to see if they liked it, Polly planked down
+sixpence and had her basin filled with a poisonous-looking mixture of
+red and white ice-cream.</p>
+
+<p>On the way back, looking up the street, Polly cried:</p>
+
+<p>'There's father!'</p>
+
+<p>Liza's heart beat rapidly and she turned red; but suddenly a sense of
+shame came over her, and casting down her head so that she might not
+see him, she said:</p>
+
+<p>'I think I'll be off 'ome an' see 'ow mother's gettin' on.' And before
+Polly could say anything she had slipped away and entered her own
+house.</p>
+
+<p>Mother was not getting on at all well.</p>
+
+<p>'You've come in at last, you &mdash;&mdash;, you!' snarled Mrs. Kemp, as Liza
+entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot's the matter, mother?'</p>
+
+<p>'Matter! I like thet&mdash;matter indeed! Go an' matter yerself an' be
+mattered! Nice way ter treat an old woman like me&mdash;an' yer own mother,
+too!'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Wot's up now?'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't talk ter me; I don't want ter listen ter you. Leavin' me all
+alone, me with my rheumatics, an' the neuralgy! I've 'ad the neuralgy
+all the mornin', and my 'ead's been simply splittin', so thet I
+thought the bones 'ud come apart and all my brains go streamin' on the
+floor. An' when I wake up there's no one ter git my tea for me, an' I
+lay there witin' an' witin', an' at last I 'ad ter git up and mike it
+myself. And, my 'ead simply cruel! Why, I might 'ave been burnt ter
+death with the fire alight an' me asleep.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I am sorry, mother; but I went aht just for a bit, an' didn't
+think you'd wike. An' besides, the fire wasn't alight.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn with yer! I didn't treat my mother like thet. Oh, you've been a
+bad daughter ter me&mdash;an' I 'ad more illness carryin' you than with all
+the other children put togither. You was a cross at yer birth, an'
+you've been a cross ever since. An' now in my old age, when I've
+worked myself ter the bone, yer leaves me to starve and burn to
+death.' Here she began to cry, and the rest of her utterances was lost
+in sobs.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The dusk had darkened into night, and Mrs. Kemp had retired to rest
+with the dicky-birds. Liza was thinking of many things; she wondered
+why she had been unwilling to meet Jim in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>'I was a bally fool,' she said to herself.</p>
+
+<p>It really seemed an age since the previous night, and all that had
+happened seemed very long ago. She had not spoken to Jim all day, and
+she had so much to say to him. Then, wondering whether he was about,
+she went to the window and looked out; but there was nobody there. She
+closed the window again and sat just beside it; the time went on, and
+she wondered whether he would come, asking herself whether he had been
+thinking of her as she of him; gradually her thoughts grew vague, and
+a kind of mist came over  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> them. She nodded. Suddenly she roused
+herself with a start, fancying she had heard something; she listened
+again, and in a moment the sound was repeated, three or four gentle
+taps on the window. She opened it quickly and whispered:</p>
+
+<p>'Jim.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thet's me,' he answered, 'come aht.'</p>
+
+<p>Closing the window, she went into the passage and opened the street
+door; it was hardly unlocked before Jim had pushed his way in; partly
+shutting it behind him, he took her in his arms and hugged her to his
+breast. She kissed him passionately.</p>
+
+<p>'I thought yer'd come ter-night, Jim; summat in my 'eart told me so.
+But you 'ave been long.'</p>
+
+<p>'I wouldn't come before, 'cause I thought there'd be people abaht.
+Kiss us!' And again he pressed his lips to hers, and Liza nearly
+fainted with the delight of it.</p>
+
+<p>'Let's go for a walk, shall we?' he said.</p>
+
+<p>'Arright!' They were speaking in whispers. 'You go into the road
+through the passage, an' I'll go by the street.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, thet's right,' and kissing her once more, he slid out, and she
+closed the door behind him.</p>
+
+<p>Then going back to get her hat, she came again into the passage,
+waiting behind the door till it might be safe for her to venture. She
+had not made up her mind to risk it, when she heard a key put in the
+lock, and she hardly had time to spring back to prevent herself from
+being hit by the opening door. It was a man, one of the upstairs
+lodgers.</p>
+
+<p>''Ulloa!' he said, ''oo's there?'</p>
+
+<p>'Mr. 'Odges! Strikes me, you did give me a turn; I was just goin' aht.'
+She blushed to her hair, but in the darkness he could see nothing.</p>
+
+<p>'Good night,' she said, and went out.</p>
+
+<p>She walked close along the sides of the houses like a thief,  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span> and the
+policeman as she passed him turned round and looked at her, wondering
+whether she was meditating some illegal deed. She breathed freely on
+coming into the open road, and seeing Jim skulking behind a tree, ran
+up to him, and in the shadows they kissed again.</p>
+
+
+
+<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span> </p>
+<h2><a name="chapter_9" id="chapter_9"></a>9</h2>
+
+
+
+<p>Thus began a time of love and joy. As soon as her work was over and
+she had finished tea, Liza would slip out and at some appointed spot
+meet Jim. Usually it would be at the church, where the Westminster
+Bridge Road bends down to get to the river, and they would go off,
+arm-in-arm, till they came to some place where they could sit down and
+rest. Sometimes they would walk along the Albert Embankment to
+Battersea Park, and here sit on the benches, watching the children
+play. The female cyclist had almost abandoned Battersea for the parks
+on the other side of the river, but often enough one went by, and
+Liza, with the old-fashioned prejudice of her class, would look after
+the rider and make some remark about her, not seldom more forcible
+than ladylike. Both Jim and she liked children, and, tiny, ragged
+urchins would gather round to have rides on the man's knees or mock
+fights with Liza.</p>
+
+<p>They thought themselves far away from anyone in Vere Street, but
+twice, as they were walking along, they were met by people they knew.
+Once it was two workmen coming home from a job at Vauxhall: Liza did
+not see them till they were quite near; she immediately dropped Jim's
+arm, and they both cast their eyes to the ground as the men passed,
+like ostriches, expecting that if they did not look they would not be
+seen.</p>
+
+<p>'D'you see 'em, Jim?' asked Liza, in a whisper, when they had gone by.
+'I wonder if they see us.' Almost instinctively she turned round, and
+at the same moment one of the men turned too; then there was no doubt
+about it.</p>
+
+<p>'Thet did give me a turn,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'So it did me,' answered Jim; 'I simply went 'ot all over.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'We was bally fools,' said Liza; 'we oughter 'ave spoken to 'em! D'you
+think they'll let aht?'</p>
+
+<p>They heard nothing of it, when Jim afterwards met one of the men in a
+public-house he did not mention a meeting, and they thought that
+perhaps they had not been recognized. But the second time was worse.</p>
+
+<p>It was on the Albert Embankment again. They were met by a party of
+four, all of whom lived in the street. Liza's heart sank within her,
+for there was no chance of escape; she thought of turning quickly and
+walking in the opposite direction, but there was not time, for the men
+had already seen them. She whispered to Jim:</p>
+
+<p>'Back us up,' and as they met she said to one of the men:</p>
+
+<p>''Ulloa there! Where are you off to?'</p>
+
+<p>The men stopped, and one of them asked the question back.</p>
+
+<p>'Where are you off to?'</p>
+
+<p>'Me? Oh, I've just been to the 'orspital. One of the gals at our place
+is queer, an' so I says ter myself, "I'll go an' see 'er."' She
+faltered a little as she began, but quickly gathered herself together,
+lying fluently and without hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>'An' when I come aht,' she went on, ''oo should I see just passin' the
+'orspital but this 'ere cove, an' 'e says to me, "Wot cheer," says 'e,
+"I'm goin' ter Vaux'all, come an' walk a bit of the wy with us."
+"Arright," says I, "I don't mind if I do."'</p>
+
+<p>One man winked, and another said: 'Go it, Liza!'</p>
+
+<p>She fired up with the dignity of outraged innocence.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot d'yer mean by thet?' she said; 'd'yer think I'm kiddin'?'</p>
+
+<p>'Kiddin'? No! You've only just come up from the country, ain't yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Think I'm kidding? What d'yer think I want ter kid for? Liars never
+believe anyone, thet's fact.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Na then, Liza, don't be saucy.'</p>
+
+<p>'Saucy! I'll smack yer in the eye if yer sy much ter me. Come on,' she
+said to Jim, who had been standing sheepishly by; and they walked
+away.</p>
+
+<p>The men shouted: 'Now we shan't be long!' and went off laughing.</p>
+
+<p>After that they decided to go where there was no chance at all of
+their being seen. They did not meet till they got over Westminster
+Bridge, and thence they made their way into the park; they would lie
+down on the grass in one another's arms, and thus spend the long
+summer evenings. After the heat of the day there would be a gentle
+breeze in the park, and they would take in long breaths of the air; it
+seemed far away from London, it was so quiet and cool; and Liza, as
+she lay by Jim's side, felt her love for him overflowing to the rest
+of the world and enveloping mankind itself in a kind of grateful
+happiness. If it could only have lasted! They would stay and see the
+stars shine out dimly, one by one, from the blue sky, till it grew
+late and the blue darkened into black, and the stars glittered in
+thousands all above them. But as the nights grew cooler, they found it
+cold on the grass, and the time they had there seemed too short for
+the long journey they had to make; so, crossing the bridge as before,
+they strolled along the Embankment till they came to a vacant bench,
+and there they would sit, with Liza nestling close up to her lover and
+his great arms around her. The rain of September made no difference to
+them; they went as usual to their seat beneath the trees, and Jim
+would take Liza on his knee, and, opening his coat, shelter her with
+it, while she, with her arms round his neck, pressed very close to
+him, and occasionally gave a little laugh of pleasure and delight.
+They hardly spoke at all through these evenings, for what had they to
+say to one another? Often without exchanging a word they would sit for
+an hour with their faces touching, the one feeling on his cheek the
+hot breath from the other's  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> mouth; while at the end of the time the
+only motion was an upraising of Liza's lips, a bending down of Jim's,
+so that they might meet and kiss. Sometimes Liza fell into a light
+doze, and Jim would sit very still for fear of waking her, and when
+she roused herself she would smile, while he bent down again and
+kissed her. They were very happy. But the hours passed by so quickly,
+that Big Ben striking twelve came upon them as a surprise, and
+unwillingly they got up and made their way homewards; their partings
+were never ending&mdash;each evening Jim refused to let her go from his
+arms, and tears stood in his eyes at the thought of the separation.</p>
+
+<p>'I'd give somethin',' he would say, 'if we could be togither always.'</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind, old chap!' Liza would answer, herself half crying, 'it
+can't be 'elped, so we must jolly well lump it.'</p>
+
+<p>But notwithstanding all their precautions people in Vere Street
+appeared to know. First of all Liza noticed that the women did not
+seem quite so cordial as before, and she often fancied they were
+talking of her; when she passed by they appeared to look at her, then
+say something or other, and perhaps burst out laughing; but when she
+approached they would immediately stop speaking, and keep silence in a
+rather awkward, constrained manner. For a long time she was unwilling
+to believe that there was any change in them, and Jim who had observed
+nothing, persuaded her that it was all fancy. But gradually it became
+clearer, and Jim had to agree with her that somehow or other people
+had found out. Once when Liza had been talking to Polly, Jim's
+daughter, Mrs. Blakeston had called her, and when the girl had come to
+her mother Liza saw that she spoke angrily, and they both looked
+across at her. When Liza caught Mrs. Blakeston's eye she saw in her
+face a surly scowl, which almost frightened her; she wanted to brave
+it out, and stepped forward a little to go and speak with the woman,
+ <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> but Mrs. Blakeston, standing still, looked so angrily at her that she
+was afraid to. When she told Jim his face grew dark, and he said:
+'Blast the woman! I'll give 'er wot for if she says anythin' ter you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't strike 'er, wotever 'appens, will yer, Jim?' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'She'd better tike care then!' he answered, and he told her that
+lately his wife had been sulking, and not speaking to him. The
+previous night, on coming home after the day's work and bidding her
+'Good evenin',' she had turned her back on him without answering.</p>
+
+<p>'Can't you answer when you're spoke to?' he had said.</p>
+
+<p>'Good evenin',' she had replied sulkily, with her back still turned.</p>
+
+<p>After that Liza noticed that Polly avoided her.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot's up, Polly?' she said to her one day. 'You never speaks now;
+'ave you 'ad yer tongue cut aht?'</p>
+
+<p>'Me? I ain't got nothin' ter speak abaht, thet I knows of,' answered
+Polly, abruptly walking off. Liza grew very red and quickly looked to
+see if anyone had noticed the incident. A couple of youths, sitting on
+the pavement, had seen it, and she saw them nudge one another and
+wink.</p>
+
+<p>Then the fellows about the street began to chaff her.</p>
+
+<p>'You look pale,' said one of a group to her one day.</p>
+
+<p>'You're overworkin' yerself, you are,' said another.</p>
+
+<p>'Married life don't agree with Liza, thet's wot it is,' added a third.</p>
+
+<p>''Oo d'yer think yer gettin' at? I ain't married, an' never like ter
+be,' she answered.</p>
+
+<p>'Liza 'as all the pleasures of a 'usband an' none of the trouble.'</p>
+
+<p>'Bli'me if I know wot yer mean!' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, of course not; you don't know nothin', do yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'Innocent as a bibe. Our Father which art in 'eaven!'</p>
+
+<p>''Aven't been in London long, 'ave yer?'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span> </p>
+
+<p>They spoke in chorus, and Liza stood in front of them, bewildered, not
+knowing what to answer.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't you mike no mistake abaht it, Liza knows a thing or two.'</p>
+
+<p>'O me darlin', I love yer fit to kill, but tike care your missus ain't
+round the corner.' This was particularly bold, and they all laughed.</p>
+
+<p>Liza felt very uncomfortable, and fiddled about with her apron,
+wondering how she should get away.</p>
+
+<p>'Tike care yer don't git into trouble, thet's all,' said one of the
+men, with burlesque gravity.</p>
+
+<p>'Yer might give us a chanst, Liza, you come aht with me one evenin'.
+You oughter give us all a turn, just ter show there's no ill-feelin'.'</p>
+
+<p>'Bli'me if I know wot yer all talkin' abaht. You're all barmy on the
+crumpet,' said Liza indignantly, and, turning her back on them, made
+for home.</p>
+
+<p>Among other things that had happened was Sally's marriage. One
+Saturday a little procession had started from Vere Street, consisting
+of Sally, in a state of giggling excitement, her fringe magnificent
+after a whole week of curling-papers, clad in a perfectly new
+velveteen dress of the colour known as electric blue; and Harry,
+rather nervous and ill at ease in the unaccustomed restraint of a
+collar; these two walked arm-in-arm, and were followed by Sally's
+mother and uncle, also arm-in-arm, and the procession was brought up
+by Harry's brother and a friend. They started with a flourish of
+trumpets and an old boot, and walked down the middle of Vere Street,
+accompanied by the neighbours' good wishes; but as they got into the
+Westminster Bridge Road and nearer to the church, the happy couple
+grew silent, and Harry began to perspire freely, so that his collar
+gave him perfect torture. There was a public-house just opposite the
+church, and it was suggested that they should have a drink before
+going in. As it was a solemn occasion they went into  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> the private bar,
+and there Sally's uncle, who was a man of means, ordered six pots of
+beer.</p>
+
+<p>'Feel a bit nervous, 'Arry?' asked his friend.</p>
+
+<p>'Na,' said Harry, as if he had been used to getting married every day
+of his life; 'bit warm, thet's all.'</p>
+
+<p>'Your very good 'ealth, Sally,' said her mother, lifting her mug;
+'this is the last time as I shall ever address you as miss.'</p>
+
+<p>'An' may she be as good a wife as you was,' added Sally's uncle.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I don't think my old man ever 'ad no complaint ter mike abaht
+me. I did my duty by 'im, although it's me as says it,' answered the
+good lady.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, mates,' said Harry's brother, 'I reckon it's abaht time to go
+in. So 'ere's to the 'ealth of Mr. 'Enry Atkins an' 'is future missus.'</p>
+
+<p>'An' God bless 'em!' said Sally's mother.</p>
+
+<p>Then they went into the church, and as they solemnly walked up the
+aisle a pale-faced young curate came out of the vestry and down to the
+bottom of the chancel. The beer had had a calming effect on their
+troubled minds, and both Harry and Sally began to think it rather a
+good joke. They smiled on each other, and at those parts of the
+service which they thought suggestive violently nudged one another in
+the ribs. When the ring had to be produced, Harry fumbled about in
+different pockets, and his brother whispered:</p>
+
+<p>'Swop me bob, 'e's gone and lorst it!'</p>
+
+<p>However, all went right, and Sally having carefully pocketed the
+certificate, they went out and had another drink to celebrate the
+happy event.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening Liza and several friends came into the couple's room,
+which they had taken in the same house as Sally had lived in before,
+and drank the health of the bride and bridegroom till they thought fit
+to retire.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span> </p>
+<h2><a name="chapter_10" id="chapter_10"></a>10</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was November. The fine weather had quite gone now, and with it much
+of the sweet pleasure of Jim and Liza's love. When they came out at
+night on the Embankment they found it cold and dreary; sometimes a
+light fog covered the river-banks, and made the lamps glow out dim and
+large; a light rain would be falling, which sent a chill into their
+very souls; foot passengers came along at rare intervals, holding up
+umbrellas, and staring straight in front of them as they hurried along
+in the damp and cold; a cab would pass rapidly by, splashing up the
+mud on each side. The benches were deserted, except, perhaps, for some
+poor homeless wretch who could afford no shelter, and, huddled up in a
+corner, with his head buried in his breast, was sleeping heavily, like
+a dead man. The wet mud made Liza's skirts cling about her feet, and
+the damp would come in and chill her legs and creep up her body, till
+she shivered, and for warmth pressed herself close against Jim.
+Sometimes they would go into the third-class waiting-rooms at Waterloo
+or Charing Cross and sit there, but it was not like the park or the
+Embankment on summer nights; they had warmth, but the heat made their
+wet clothes steam and smell, and the gas flared in their eyes, and
+they hated the people perpetually coming in and out, opening the doors
+and letting in a blast of cold air; they hated the noise of the guards
+and porters shouting out the departure of the trains, the shrill
+whistling of the steam-engine, the hurry and bustle and confusion.
+About eleven o'clock, when the trains grew less frequent, they got
+some quietness; but then their minds were troubled, and they felt
+heavy, sad and miserable.</p>
+
+<p>One evening they had been sitting at Waterloo Station; it was foggy
+outside&mdash;a thick, yellow November fog, which  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span> filled the waiting-room,
+entering the lungs, and making the mouth taste nasty and the eyes
+smart. It was about half-past eleven, and the station was unusually
+quiet; a few passengers, in wraps and overcoats, were walking to and
+fro, waiting for the last train, and one or two porters were standing
+about yawning. Liza and Jim had remained for an hour in perfect
+silence, filled with a gloomy unhappiness, as of a great weight on
+their brains. Liza was sitting forward, with her elbows on her knees,
+resting her face on her hands.</p>
+
+<p>'I wish I was straight,' she said at last, not looking up.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, why won't yer come along of me altogether, an' you'll be
+arright then?' he answered.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, that's no go; I can't do thet.' He had often asked her to live
+with him entirely, but she had always refused.</p>
+
+<p>'You can come along of me, an' I'll tike a room in a lodgin' 'ouse in
+'Olloway, an' we can live there as if we was married.'</p>
+
+<p>'Wot abaht yer work?'</p>
+
+<p>'I can get work over the other side as well as I can 'ere. I'm abaht
+sick of the wy things is goin' on.'</p>
+
+<p>'So am I; but I can't leave mother.'</p>
+
+<p>'She can come, too.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not when I'm not married. I shouldn't like 'er ter know as I'd&mdash;as
+I'd gone wrong.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I'll marry yer. Swop me bob, I wants ter badly enough.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yer can't; yer married already.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thet don't matter! If I give the missus so much a week aht of my
+screw, she'll sign a piper ter give up all clime ter me, an' then we
+can get spliced. One of the men as I works with done thet, an' it was
+arright.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, yer can't do thet now; it's bigamy, an' the cop tikes yer, an'
+yer gits twelve months' 'ard for it.'</p>
+
+<p>'But swop me bob, Liza, I can't go on like this. Yer knows  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> the
+missus&mdash;well, there ain't no bloomin' doubt abaht it, she knows as you
+an' me are carryin' on, an' she mikes no bones abaht lettin' me see
+it.'</p>
+
+<p>'She don't do thet?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, she don't exactly sy it, but she sulks an' won't speak, an'
+then when I says anythin' she rounds on me an' calls me all the nimes
+she can think of. I'd give 'er a good 'idin', but some'ow I don't like
+ter! She mikes the plice a 'ell ter me, an' I'm not goin' ter stand it
+no longer!'</p>
+
+<p>'You'll ave ter sit it, then; yer can't chuck it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus I can, an' I would if you'd come along of me. I don't believe you
+like me at all, Liza, or you'd come.'</p>
+
+<p>She turned towards him and put her arms round his neck.</p>
+
+<p>'Yer know I do, old cock,' she said. 'I like yer better than anyone
+else in the world; but I can't go awy an' leave mother.'</p>
+
+<p>'Bli'me me if I see why; she's never been much ter you. She mikes yer
+slave awy ter pay the rent, an' all the money she earns she boozes.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thet's true, she ain't been wot yer might call a good mother ter
+me&mdash;but some'ow she's my mother, an' I don't like ter leave 'er on 'er
+own, now she's so old&mdash;an' she can't do much with the rheumatics. An'
+besides, Jim dear, it ain't only mother, but there's yer own kids, yer
+can't leave them.'</p>
+
+<p>He thought for a while, and then said:</p>
+
+<p>'You're abaht right there, Liza; I dunno if I could get on without the
+kids. If I could only tike them an' you too, swop me bob, I should be
+'appy.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza smiled sadly.</p>
+
+<p>'So yer see, Jim, we're in a bloomin' 'ole, an' there ain't no way aht
+of it thet I can see.'</p>
+
+<p>He took her on his knees, and pressing her to him, kissed her very
+long and very lovingly.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, we must trust ter luck,' she said again, 'p'raps  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> somethin' 'll
+'appen soon, an' everythin' 'll come right in the end&mdash;when we gets
+four balls of worsted for a penny.'</p>
+
+<p>It was past twelve, and separating, they went by different ways along
+the dreary, wet, deserted roads till they came to Vere Street.</p>
+
+<p>The street seemed quite different to Liza from what it had been three
+months before. Tom, the humble adorer, had quite disappeared from her
+life. One day, three or four weeks after the August Bank Holiday, she
+saw him dawdling along the pavement, and it suddenly struck her that
+she had not seen him for a long time; but she had been so full of her
+happiness that she had been unable to think of anyone but Jim. She
+wondered at his absence, since before wherever she had been there was
+he certain to be also. She passed him, but to her astonishment he did
+not speak to her. She thought by some wonder he had not seen her, but
+she felt his gaze resting upon her. She turned back, and suddenly he
+dropped his eyes and looked down, walking on as if he had not seen
+her, but blushing furiously.</p>
+
+<p>'Tom,' she said, 'why don't yer speak ter me.'</p>
+
+<p>He started and blushed more than ever.</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't know yer was there,' he stuttered.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't tell me,' she said, 'wot's up?'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothin' as I knows of,' he answered uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>'I ain't offended yer, 'ave I, Tom?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, not as I knows of,' he replied, looking very unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>'You don't ever come my way now,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't know as yer wanted ter see me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn! Yer knows I likes you as well as anybody.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yer likes so many people, Liza,' he said, flushing.</p>
+
+<p>'What d'yer mean?' said Liza indignantly, but very red; she was afraid
+he knew now, and it was from him especially she would have been so
+glad to hide it.</p>
+
+<p>'Nothin',' he answered.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'One doesn't say things like thet without any meanin', unless one's a
+blimed fool.'</p>
+
+<p>'You're right there, Liza,' he answered. 'I am a blimed fool.' He
+looked at her a little reproachfully, she thought, and then he said
+'Good-bye,' and turned away.</p>
+
+<p>At first she was horrified that he should know of her love for Jim,
+but then she did not care. After all, it was nobody's business, and
+what did anything matter as long as she loved Jim and Jim loved her?
+Then she grew angry that Tom should suspect her; he could know nothing
+but that some of the men had seen her with Jim near Vauxhall, and it
+seemed mean that he should condemn her for that. Thenceforward, when
+she ran against Tom, she cut him; he never tried to speak to her, but
+as she passed him, pretending to look in front of her, she could see
+that he always blushed, and she fancied his eyes were very sorrowful.
+Then several weeks went by, and as she began to feel more and more
+lonely in the street she regretted the quarrel; she cried a little as
+she thought that she had lost his faithful gentle love and she would
+have much liked to be friends with him again. If he had only made some
+advance she would have welcomed him so cordially, but she was too
+proud to go to him herself and beg him to forgive her&mdash;and then how
+could he forgive her?</p>
+
+<p>She had lost Sally too, for on her marriage Harry had made her give up
+the factory; he was a young man with principles worthy of a Member of
+Parliament, and he had said:</p>
+
+<p>'A woman's plice is 'er 'ome, an' if 'er old man can't afford ter keep
+'er without 'er workin' in a factory&mdash;well, all I can say is thet 'e'd
+better go an' git single.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite right, too,' agreed his mother-in-law; 'an' wot's more, she'll
+'ave a baby ter look after soon, an' thet'll tike 'er all 'er time,
+an' there's no one as knows thet better than me, for I've 'ad twelve,
+ter sy nothin' of two stills an' one miss.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza quite envied Sally her happiness, for the bride was  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span> brimming
+over with song and laughter; her happiness overwhelmed her.</p>
+
+<p>'I am 'appy,' she said to Liza one day a few weeks after her marriage.
+'You dunno wot a good sort 'Arry is. 'E's just a darlin', an' there's
+no mistikin' it. I don't care wot other people sy, but wot I says is,
+there's nothin' like marriage. Never a cross word passes his lips, an'
+mother 'as all 'er meals with us an' 'e says all the better. Well I'm
+thet 'appy I simply dunno if I'm standin' on my 'ead or on my 'eels.'</p>
+
+<p>But alas! it did not last too long. Sally was not so full of joy when
+next Liza met her, and one day her eyes looked very much as if she had
+been crying.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot's the matter?' asked Liza, looking at her. 'Wot 'ave yer been
+blubberin' abaht?'</p>
+
+<p>'Me?' said Sally, getting very red. 'Oh, I've got a bit of a
+toothache, an'&mdash;well, I'm rather a fool like, an' it 'urt so much that
+I couldn't 'elp cryin'.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza was not satisfied, but could get nothing further out of her. Then
+one day it came out. It was a Saturday night, the time when women in
+Vere Street weep. Liza went up into Sally's room for a few minutes on
+her way to the Westminster Bridge Road, where she was to meet Jim.
+Harry had taken the top back room, and Liza, climbing up the second
+flight of stairs, called out as usual.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot ho, Sally!'</p>
+
+<p>The door remained shut, although Liza could see that there was a light
+in the room; but on getting to the door she stood still, for she heard
+the sound of sobbing. She listened for a minute and then knocked:
+there was a little flurry inside, and someone called out:</p>
+
+<p>''Oo's there?'</p>
+
+<p>'Only me,' said Liza, opening the door. As she did so she saw Sally
+rapidly wipe her eyes and put her handkerchief away. Her mother was
+sitting by her side, evidently comforting her.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Wot's up, Sal?' asked Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Nothin',' answered Sally, with a brave little gasp to stop the
+crying, turning her face downwards so that Liza should not see the
+tears in her eyes; but they were too strong for her, and, quickly
+taking out her handkerchief, she hid her face in it and began to sob
+broken-heartedly. Liza looked at the mother in interrogation.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, it's thet man again!' said the lady, snorting and tossing her
+head.</p>
+
+<p>'Not 'Arry?' asked Liza, in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>'Not 'Arry&mdash;'oo is it if it ain't 'Arry? The villin!'</p>
+
+<p>'Wot's 'e been doin', then?' asked Liza again.</p>
+
+<p>'Beatin' 'er, that's wot 'e's been doin'! Oh, the villin, 'e oughter
+be ashimed of 'isself 'e ought!'</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't know 'e was like that!' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Didn't yer? I thought the 'ole street knew it by now,' said Mrs.
+Cooper indignantly. 'Oh, 'e's a wrong 'un, 'e is.'</p>
+
+<p>'It wasn't 'is fault,' put in Sally, amidst her sobs; 'it's only
+because 'e's 'ad a little drop too much. 'E's arright when 'e's
+sober.'</p>
+
+<p>'A little drop too much! I should just think 'e'd 'ad, the beast! I'd
+give it 'im if I was a man. They're all like thet&mdash;'usbinds is all
+alike; they're arright when they're sober&mdash;sometimes&mdash;but when they've
+got the liquor in 'em, they're beasts, an' no mistike. I 'ad a 'usbind
+myself for five-an'-twenty years, an' I know 'em.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, mother,' sobbed Sally, 'it was all my fault. I should 'ave come
+'ome earlier.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, it wasn't your fault at all. Just you look 'ere, Liza: this is
+wot 'e done an' call 'isself a man. Just because Sally'd gone aht to
+'ave a chat with Mrs. McLeod in the next 'ouse, when she come in 'e
+start bangin' 'er abaht. An' me, too, wot d'yer think of that!' Mrs.
+Cooper was quite purple with indignation.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Yus,' she went on, 'thet's a man for yer. Of course, I wasn't goin'
+ter stand there an' see my daughter bein' knocked abaht; it wasn't
+likely&mdash;was it? An' 'e rounds on me, an' 'e 'its me with 'is fist.
+Look 'ere.' She pulled up her sleeves and showed two red and brawny
+arms. ''E's bruised my arms; I thought 'e'd broken it at fust. If I
+'adn't put my arm up, 'e'd 'ave got me on the 'ead, an' 'e might 'ave
+killed me. An' I says to 'im, "If you touch me again, I'll go ter the
+police-station, thet I will!" Well, that frightened 'im a bit, an'
+then didn't I let 'im 'ave it! "You call yerself a man," says I, "an'
+you ain't fit ter clean the drains aht." You should 'ave 'eard the
+language 'e used. "You dirty old woman," says 'e, "you go away; you're
+always interferin' with me." Well, I don't like ter repeat wot 'e
+said, and thet's the truth. An' I says ter 'im, "I wish yer'd never
+married my daughter, an' if I'd known you was like this I'd 'ave died
+sooner than let yer."'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I didn't know 'e was like thet!' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>''E was arright at fust,' said Sally.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, they're always arright at fust! But ter think it should 'ave
+come to this now, when they ain't been married three months, an' the
+first child not born yet! I think it's disgraceful.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza stayed a little while longer, helping to comfort Sally, who kept
+pathetically taking to herself all the blame of the dispute; and then,
+bidding her good night and better luck, she slid off to meet Jim.</p>
+
+<p>When she reached the appointed spot he was not to be found. She waited
+for some time, and at last saw him come out of the neighbouring pub.</p>
+
+<p>'Good night, Jim,' she said as she came up to him.</p>
+
+<p>'So you've turned up, 'ave yer?' he answered roughly, turning round.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot's the matter, Jim?' she asked in a frightened way, for he had
+never spoken to her in that manner.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Nice thing ter keep me witin' all night for yer to come aht.'</p>
+
+<p>She saw that he had been drinking, and answered humbly.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm very sorry, Jim, but I went in to Sally, an' 'er bloke 'ad been
+knockin' 'er abaht, an' so I sat with 'er a bit.'</p>
+
+<p>'Knockin' 'er abaht, 'ad 'e? and serve 'er damn well right too; an'
+there's many more as could do with a good 'idin'!'</p>
+
+<p>Liza did not answer. He looked at her, and then suddenly said:</p>
+
+<p>'Come in an' 'ave a drink.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I'm not thirsty; I don't want a drink,' she answered.</p>
+
+<p>'Come on,' he said angrily.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, Jim, you've had quite enough already.'</p>
+
+<p>''Oo are you talkin' ter?' he said. 'Don't come if yer don't want ter;
+I'll go an' 'ave one by myself.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, Jim, don't.' She caught hold of his arm.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, I shall,' he said, going towards the pub, while she held him
+back. 'Let me go, can't yer! Let me go!' He roughly pulled his arm
+away from her. As she tried to catch hold of it again, he pushed her
+back, and in the little scuffle caught her a blow over the face.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh!' she cried, 'you did 'urt!'</p>
+
+<p>He was sobered at once.</p>
+
+<p>'Liza,' he said. 'I ain't 'urt yer?' She didn't answer, and he took
+her in his arms. 'Liza, I ain't 'urt you, 'ave I? Say I ain't 'urt
+yer. I'm so sorry, I beg your pardon, Liza.'</p>
+
+<p>'Arright, old chap,' she said, smiling charmingly on him. 'It wasn't
+the blow that 'urt me much; it was the wy you was talkin'.'</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't mean it, Liza.' He was so contrite, he could not humble
+himself enough. 'I 'ad another bloomin' row with the missus ter-night,
+an' then when I didn't find you 'ere, an' I kept witin' an'
+witin'&mdash;well, I fair downright lost my 'air. An' I 'ad two or three
+pints of four 'alf, an'&mdash;well, I dunno&mdash;'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Never mind, old cock. I can stand more than thet as long as yer loves
+me.'</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her and they were quite friends again. But the little
+quarrel had another effect which was worse for Liza. When she woke up
+next morning she noticed a slight soreness over the ridge of bone
+under the left eye, and on looking in the glass saw that it was black
+and blue and green. She bathed it, but it remained, and seemed to get
+more marked. She was terrified lest people should see it, and kept
+indoors all day; but next morning it was blacker than ever. She went
+to the factory with her hat over her eyes and her head bent down; she
+escaped observation, but on the way home she was not so lucky. The
+sharp eyes of some girls noticed it first.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot's the matter with yer eye?' asked one of them.</p>
+
+<p>'Me?' answered Liza, putting her hand up as if in ignorance. 'Nothin'
+thet I knows of.'</p>
+
+<p>Two or three young men were standing by, and hearing the girl, looked
+up.</p>
+
+<p>'Why, yer've got a black eye, Liza!'</p>
+
+<p>'Me? I ain't got no black eye!'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus you 'ave; 'ow d'yer get it?'</p>
+
+<p>'I dunno,' said Liza. 'I didn't know I 'ad one.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn! tell us another!' was the answer. 'One doesn't git a black eye
+without knowin' 'ow they got it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I did fall against the chest of drawers yesterday; I suppose I
+must 'ave got it then.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh yes, we believe thet, don't we?'</p>
+
+<p>'I didn't know 'e was so 'andy with 'is dukes, did you, Ted?' asked
+one man of another.</p>
+
+<p>Liza felt herself grow red to the tips of her toes.</p>
+
+<p>'Who?' she asked.</p>
+
+<p>'Never you mind; nobody you know.'</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Jim's wife passed and looked at her with a scowl. Liza
+wished herself a hundred miles away, and blushed more violently than
+ever.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Wot are yer blushin' abaht?' ingenuously asked one of the girls.</p>
+
+<p>And they all looked from her to Mrs. Blakeston and back again. Someone
+said: ''Ow abaht our Sunday boots on now?' And a titter went through
+them. Liza's nerve deserted her; she could think of nothing to say,
+and a sob burst from her. To hide the tears which were coming from her
+eyes she turned away and walked homewards. Immediately a great shout
+of laughter broke from the group, and she heard them positively
+screaming till she got into her own house.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> </p>
+<h2><a name="chapter_11" id="chapter_11"></a>11</h2>
+
+
+<p>A few days afterwards Liza was talking with Sally, who did not seem
+very much happier than when Liza had last seen her.</p>
+
+<p>''E ain't wot I thought 'e wos,' she said. 'I don't mind sayin' thet;
+but 'e 'as a lot ter put up with; I expect I'm rather tryin'
+sometimes, an' 'e means well. P'raps 'e'll be kinder like when the
+biby's born.'</p>
+
+<p>'Cheer up, old gal,' answered Liza, who had seen something of the
+lives of many married couples; 'it won't seem so bad after yer gets
+used to it; it's a bit disappointin' at fust, but yer gits not ter
+mind it.'</p>
+
+<p>After a little Sally said she must go and see about her husband's tea.
+She said good-bye, and then rather awkwardly:</p>
+
+<p>'Say, Liza, tike care of yerself!'</p>
+
+<p>'Tike care of meself&mdash;why?' asked Liza, in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>'Yer know wot I mean.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I'm darned if I do.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thet there Mrs. Blakeston, she's lookin' aht for you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Mrs. Blakeston!' Liza was startled.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus; she says she's goin' ter give you somethin' if she can git 'old
+on yer. I should advise yer ter tike care.'</p>
+
+<p>'Me?' said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>Sally looked away, so as not to see the other's face.</p>
+
+<p>'She says as 'ow yer've been messin' abaht with 'er old man.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza didn't say anything, and Sally, repeating her good-bye, slid off.</p>
+
+<p>Liza felt a chill run through her. She had several times noticed a
+scowl and a look of anger on Mrs. Blakeston's face, and she had avoided
+her as much as possible; but she  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span> had no idea that the woman meant to
+do anything to her. She was very frightened, a cold sweat broke out
+over her face. If Mrs. Blakeston got hold of her she would be helpless,
+she was so small and weak, while the other was strong and muscular.
+Liza wondered what she would do if she did catch her.</p>
+
+<p>That night she told Jim, and tried to make a joke of it.</p>
+
+<p>'I say, Jim, your missus&mdash;she says she's goin' ter give me socks if
+she catches me.'</p>
+
+<p>'My missus! 'Ow d'yer know?'</p>
+
+<p>'She's been tellin' people in the street.'</p>
+
+<p>'Go' lumme,' said Jim, furious, 'if she dares ter touch a 'air of your
+'ead, swop me dicky I'll give 'er sich a 'idin' as she never 'ad
+before! By God, give me the chanst, an' I would let 'er 'ave it; I'm
+bloomin' well sick of 'er sulks!' He clenched his fist as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>Liza was a coward. She could not help thinking of her enemy's threat;
+it got on her nerves, and she hardly dared go out for fear of meeting
+her; she would look nervously in front of her, quickly turning round
+if she saw in the distance anyone resembling Mrs. Blakeston. She
+dreamed of her at night; she saw the big, powerful form, the heavy,
+frowning face, and the curiously braided brown hair; and she would
+wake up with a cry and find herself bathed in sweat.</p>
+
+<p>It was the Saturday afternoon following this, a chill November day,
+with the roads sloshy, and a grey, comfortless sky that made one's
+spirits sink. It was about three o'clock, and Liza was coming home
+from work; she got into Vere Street, and was walking quickly towards
+her house when she saw Mrs. Blakeston coming towards her. Her heart
+gave a great jump. Turning, she walked rapidly in the direction she
+had come; with a screw round of her eyes she saw that she was being
+followed, and therefore went straight out of Vere Street. She went
+right round, meaning to get into the street from the other end and,
+unobserved, slip into her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span>  house, which was then quite close; but she
+dared not risk it immediately for fear Mrs. Blakeston should still be
+there; so she waited about for half an hour. It seemed an age.
+Finally, taking her courage in both hands, she turned the corner and
+entered Vere Street. She nearly ran into the arms of Mrs. Blakeston,
+who was standing close to the public-house door.</p>
+
+<p>Liza gave a little cry, and the woman said, with a sneer:</p>
+
+<p>'Yer didn't expect ter see me, did yer?'</p>
+
+<p>Liza did not answer, but tried to walk past her. Mrs. Blakeston stepped
+forward and blocked her way.</p>
+
+<p>'Yer seem ter be in a mighty fine 'urry,' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, I've got ter git 'ome,' said Liza, again trying to pass.</p>
+
+<p>'But supposin' I don't let yer?' remarked Mrs. Blakeston, preventing
+her from moving.</p>
+
+<p>'Why don't yer leave me alone?' Liza said. 'I ain't interferin' with
+you!'</p>
+
+<p>'Not interferin' with me, aren't yer? I like thet!'</p>
+
+<p>'Let me go by,' said Liza. 'I don't want ter talk ter you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I know thet,' said the other; 'but I want ter talk ter you, an' I
+shan't let yer go until I've said wot I wants ter sy.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza looked round for help. At the beginning of the altercation the
+loafers about the public-house had looked up with interest, and
+gradually gathered round in a little circle. Passers-by had joined in,
+and a number of other people in the street, seeing the crowd, added
+themselves to it to see what was going on. Liza saw that all eyes were
+fixed on her, the men amused and excited, the women unsympathetic,
+rather virtuously indignant. Liza wanted to ask for help, but there
+were so many people, and they all seemed so much against her, that she
+had not the courage to. So, having surveyed the crowd, she turned her
+eyes to Mrs. Blakeston, and stood in front of her, trembling a little,
+and very white.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Na, 'e ain't there,' said Mrs. Blakeston, sneeringly, 'so yer needn't
+look for 'im.'</p>
+
+<p>'I dunno wot yer mean,' answered Liza, 'an' I want ter go awy. I ain't
+done nothin' ter you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Not done nothin' ter me?' furiously repeated the woman. 'I'll tell
+yer wot yer've done ter me&mdash;you've robbed me of my 'usbind, you 'ave.
+I never 'ad a word with my 'usbind until you took 'im from me. An' now
+it's all you with 'im. 'E's got no time for 'is wife an' family&mdash;it's
+all you. An' 'is money, too. I never git a penny of it; if it weren't
+for the little bit I 'ad saved up in the siving-bank, me an' my
+children 'ud be starvin' now! An' all through you!' She shook her fist
+at her.</p>
+
+<p>'I never 'ad any money from anyone.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don' talk ter me; I know yer did. Yer dirty bitch! You oughter be
+ishimed of yourself tikin' a married man from 'is family, an' 'im old
+enough ter be yer father.'</p>
+
+<p>'She's right there!' said one or two of the onlooking women. 'There
+can't be no good in 'er if she tikes somebody else's 'usbind.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'll give it yer!' proceeded Mrs. Blakeston, getting more hot and
+excited, brandishing her fist, and speaking in a loud voice, hoarse
+with rage. 'Oh, I've been tryin' ter git 'old on yer this four weeks.
+Why, you're a prostitute&mdash;that's wot you are!'</p>
+
+<p>'I'm not!' answered Liza indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, you are,' repeated Mrs. Blakeston, advancing menacingly, so that
+Liza shrank back. 'An' wot's more, 'e treats yer like one. I know 'oo
+give yer thet black eye; thet shows what 'e thinks of yer! An' serve
+yer bloomin' well right if 'e'd give yer one in both eyes!'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Blakeston stood close in front of her, her heavy jaw protruded and
+the frown of her eyebrows dark and stern. For a moment she stood
+silent, contemplating Liza, while the surrounders looked on in
+breathless interest.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Yer dirty little bitch, you!' she said at last. 'Tike that!' and with
+her open hand she gave her a sharp smack on the cheek.</p>
+
+<p>Liza started back with a cry and put her hand up to her face.</p>
+
+<p>'An' tike thet!' added Mrs. Blakeston, repeating the blow. Then,
+gathering up the spittle in her mouth, she spat in Liza's face.</p>
+
+<p>Liza sprang on her, and with her hands spread out like claws buried
+her nails in the woman's face and drew them down her cheeks. Mrs.
+Blakeston caught hold of her hair with both hands and tugged at it as
+hard as she could. But they were immediately separated.</p>
+
+<p>''Ere, 'old 'ard!' said some of the men. 'Fight it aht fair and
+square. Don't go scratchin' and maulin' like thet.'</p>
+
+<p>'I'll fight 'er, I don't mind!' shouted Mrs. Blakeston, tucking up her
+sleeves and savagely glaring at her opponent.</p>
+
+<p>Liza stood in front of her, pale and trembling; as she looked at her
+enemy, and saw the long red marks of her nails, with blood coming from
+one or two of them, she shrank back.</p>
+
+<p>'I don't want ter fight,' she said hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I don't suppose yer do,' hissed the other, 'but yer'll damn well
+'ave ter!'</p>
+
+<p>'She's ever so much bigger than me; I've got no chanst,' added Liza
+tearfully.</p>
+
+<p>'You should 'ave thought of thet before. Come on!' and with these
+words Mrs. Blakeston rushed upon her. She hit her with both fists one
+after the other. Liza did not try to guard herself, but imitating the
+woman's motion, hit out with her own fists; and for a minute or two
+they continued thus, raining blows on one another with the same
+windmill motion of the arms. But Liza could not stand against the
+other woman's weight; the blows came down heavy and rapid all over her
+face and head. She put up her hands to cover her face and  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> turned her
+head away, while Mrs. Blakeston kept on hitting mercilessly.</p>
+
+<p>'Time!' shouted some of the men&mdash;'Time!' and Mrs. Blakeston stopped to
+rest herself.</p>
+
+<p>'It don't seem 'ardly fair to set them two on tergether. Liza's got no
+chanst against a big woman like thet,' said a man among the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, it's er' own fault,' answered a woman; 'she didn't oughter mess
+about with 'er 'usbind.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I don't think it's right,' added another man. 'She's gettin' it
+too much.'</p>
+
+<p>'An' serve 'er right too!' said one of the women. 'She deserves all
+she gets an' a damn sight more inter the bargain.'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite right,' put in a third; 'a woman's got no right ter tike
+someone's 'usbind from 'er. An' if she does she's bloomin' lucky if
+she gits off with a 'idin'&mdash;thet's wot I think.'</p>
+
+<p>'So do I. But I wouldn't 'ave thought it of Liza. I never thought she
+was a wrong 'un.'</p>
+
+<p>'Pretty specimen she is!' said a little dark woman, who looked like a
+Jewess. 'If she messed abaht with my old man, I'd stick 'er&mdash;I swear I
+would!'</p>
+
+<p>'Now she's been carryin' on with one, she'll try an' git others&mdash;you
+see if she don't.'</p>
+
+<p>'She'd better not come round my 'ouse; I'll soon give 'er wot for.'</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Liza was standing at one corner of the ring, trembling all
+over and crying bitterly. One of her eyes was bunged up, and her hair,
+all dishevelled, was hanging down over her face. Two young fellows,
+who had constituted themselves her seconds, were standing in front of
+her, offering rather ironical comfort. One of them had taken the
+bottom corners of her apron and was fanning her with it, while the
+other was showing her how to stand and hold her arms.</p>
+
+<p>'You stand up to 'er, Liza,' he was saying; 'there ain't no  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span> good
+funkin' it, you'll simply get it all the worse. You 'it 'er back. Give
+'er one on the boko, like this&mdash;see; yer must show a bit of pluck, yer
+know.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza tried to check her sobs.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, 'it 'er 'ard, that's wot yer've got ter do,' said the other.
+'An' if yer find she's gettin' the better on yer, you close on 'er and
+catch 'old of 'er 'air and scratch 'er.'</p>
+
+<p>'You've marked 'er with yer nails, Liza. By gosh, you did fly on her
+when she spat at yer! thet's the way ter do the job!'</p>
+
+<p>Then turning to his fellow, he said:</p>
+
+<p>'D'yer remember thet fight as old Mother Cregg 'ad with another woman
+in the street last year?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na,' he answered, 'I never saw thet.'</p>
+
+<p>'It was a cawker; an' the cops come in and took 'em both off ter
+quod.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza wished the policemen would come and take her off; she would
+willingly have gone to prison to escape the fiend in front of her; but
+no help came.</p>
+
+<p>'Time's up!' shouted the referee. 'Fire away!'</p>
+
+<p>'Tike care of the cops!' shouted a man.</p>
+
+<p>'There's no fear abaht them,' answered somebody else. 'They always
+keeps out of the way when there's anythin' goin' on.'</p>
+
+<p>'Fire away!'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Blakeston attacked Liza madly; but the girl stood up bravely, and
+as well as she could gave back the blows she received. The spectators
+grew tremendously excited.</p>
+
+<p>'Got 'im again!' they shouted. 'Give it 'er, Liza, thet's a good
+'un!&mdash;'it 'er 'ard!'</p>
+
+<p>'Two ter one on the old 'un!' shouted a sporting gentleman; but Liza
+found no backers.</p>
+
+<p>'Ain't she standin' up well now she's roused?' cried someone.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, she's got some pluck in 'er, she 'as!'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Thet's a knock-aht!' they shouted as Mrs. Blakeston brought her fist
+down on to Liza's nose; the girl staggered back, and blood began to
+flow. Then, losing all fear, mad with rage, she made a rush on her
+enemy, and rained down blows all over her nose and eyes and mouth. The
+woman recoiled at the sudden violence of the onslaught, and the men
+cried:</p>
+
+<p>'By God, the little 'un's gettin' the best of it!'</p>
+
+<p>But quickly recovering herself the woman closed with Liza, and dug her
+nails into her flesh. Liza caught hold of her hair and pulled with all
+her might, and turning her teeth on Mrs. Blakeston tried to bite her.
+And thus for a minute they swayed about, scratching, tearing, biting,
+sweat and blood pouring down their faces, and their eyes fixed on one
+another, bloodshot and full of rage. The audience shouted and cheered
+and clapped their hands.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot the 'ell's up 'ere?'</p>
+
+<p>'I sy, look there,' said some of the women in a whisper. 'It's the
+'usbind!'</p>
+
+<p>He stood on tiptoe and looked over the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>'My Gawd,' he said, 'it's Liza!'</p>
+
+<p>Then roughly pushing the people aside, he made his way through the
+crowd into the centre, and thrusting himself between the two women,
+tore them apart. He turned furiously on his wife.</p>
+
+<p>'By Gawd, I'll give yer somethin' for this!'</p>
+
+<p>And for a moment they all three stood silently looking at one another.</p>
+
+<p>Another man had been attracted by the crowd, and he, too, pushed his
+way through.</p>
+
+<p>'Come 'ome, Liza,' he said.</p>
+
+<p>'Tom!'</p>
+
+<p>He took hold of her arm, and led her through the people, who gave way
+to let her pass. They walked silently through the street, Tom very
+grave, Liza weeping bitterly.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Oh, Tom,' she sobbed after a while, 'I couldn't 'elp it!' Then, when
+her tears permitted, 'I did love 'im so!'</p>
+
+<p>When they got to the door she plaintively said: 'Come in,' and he
+followed her to her room. Here she sank on to a chair, and gave
+herself up to her tears.</p>
+
+<p>Tom wetted the end of a towel and began wiping her face, grimy with
+blood and tears. She let him do it, just moaning amid her sobs:</p>
+
+<p>'You are good ter me, Tom.'</p>
+
+<p>'Cheer up, old gal,' he said kindly, 'it's all over now.'</p>
+
+<p>After a while the excess of crying brought its cessation. She drank
+some water, and then taking up a broken handglass she looked at
+herself, saying:</p>
+
+<p>'I am a sight!' and proceeded to wind up her hair. 'You 'ave been good
+ter me, Tom,' she repeated, her voice still broken with sobs; and as
+he sat down beside her she took his hand.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I ain't,' he answered; 'it's only wot anybody 'ud 'ave done.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yer know, Tom,' she said, after a little silence, 'I'm so sorry I
+spoke cross like when I met yer in the street; you ain't spoke ter me
+since.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, thet's all over now, old lidy, we needn't think of thet.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, but I 'ave treated yer bad. I'm a regular wrong 'un, I am.'</p>
+
+<p>He pressed her hand without speaking.</p>
+
+<p>'I say, Tom,' she began, after another pause. 'Did yer know
+thet&mdash;well, you know&mdash;before ter-day?'</p>
+
+<p>He blushed as he answered:</p>
+
+<p>'Yus.'</p>
+
+<p>She spoke very sadly and slowly.</p>
+
+<p>'I thought yer did; yer seemed so cut up like when I used to meet yer.
+Yer did love me then, Tom, didn't yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'I do now, dearie,' he answered.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, it's too lite now,' she sighed.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'D'yer know, Liza,' he said, 'I just abaht kicked the life aht of a
+feller 'cause 'e said you was messin' abaht with&mdash;with 'im.'</p>
+
+<p>'An' yer knew I was?'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus&mdash;but I wasn't goin' ter 'ave anyone say it before me.'</p>
+
+<p>'They've all rounded on me except you, Tom. I'd 'ave done better if
+I'd tiken you when you arst me; I shouldn't be where I am now, if I
+'ad.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, won't yer now? Won't yer 'ave me now?'</p>
+
+<p>'Me? After wot's 'appened?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I don't mind abaht thet. Thet don't matter ter me if you'll marry
+me. I fair can't live without yer, Liza&mdash;won't yer?'</p>
+
+<p>She groaned.</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I can't, Tom, it wouldn't be right.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, not, if I don't mind?'</p>
+
+<p>'Tom,' she said, looking down, almost whispering, 'I'm like that&mdash;you
+know!'</p>
+
+<p>'Wot d'yer mean?'</p>
+
+<p>She could scarcely utter the words&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>'I think I'm in the family wy.'</p>
+
+<p>He paused a moment; then spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>'Well&mdash;I don't mind, if yer'll only marry me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I can't, Tom,' she said, bursting into tears; 'I can't, but you
+are so good ter me; I'd do anythin' ter mike it up ter you.'</p>
+
+<p>She put her arms round his neck and slid on to his knees.</p>
+
+<p>'Yer know, Tom, I couldn't marry yer now; but anythin' else&mdash;if yer
+wants me ter do anythin' else, I'll do it if it'll mike you 'appy.'</p>
+
+<p>He did not understand, but only said:</p>
+
+<p>'You're a good gal, Liza,' and bending down he kissed her gravely on
+the forehead.</p>
+
+<p>Then with a sigh he lifted her down, and getting up left  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span> her alone.
+For a while she sat where he left her, but as she thought of all she
+had gone through her loneliness and misery overcame her, the tears
+welled forth, and throwing herself on the bed she buried her face in
+the pillows.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Jim stood looking at Liza as she went off with Tom, and his wife
+watched him jealously.</p>
+
+<p>'It's 'er you're thinkin' abaht. Of course you'd 'ave liked ter tike
+'er 'ome yerself, I know, an' leave me to shift for myself.'</p>
+
+<p>'Shut up!' said Jim, angrily turning upon her.</p>
+
+<p>'I shan't shut up,' she answered, raising her voice. 'Nice 'usbind you
+are. Go' lumme, as good as they mike 'em! Nice thing ter go an' leave
+yer wife and children for a thing like thet! At your age, too! You
+oughter be ashimed of yerself. Why, it's like messin' abaht with your
+own daughter!'</p>
+
+<p>'By God!'&mdash;he ground his teeth with rage&mdash;'if yer don't leave me
+alone, I'll kick the life aht of yer!'</p>
+
+<p>'There!' she said, turning to the crowd&mdash;'there, see 'ow 'e treats me!
+Listen ter that! I've been 'is wife for twenty years, an' yer couldn't
+'ave 'ad a better wife, an' I've bore 'im nine children, yet say
+nothin' of a miscarriage, an' I've got another comin', an' thet's 'ow
+'e treats me! Nice 'usbind, ain't it?' She looked at him scornfully,
+then again at the surrounders as if for their opinion.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I ain't goin' ter stay 'ere all night; get aht of the light!'
+He pushed aside the people who barred his way, and the one or two who
+growled a little at his roughness, looking at his angry face, were
+afraid to complain.</p>
+
+<p>'Look at 'im!' said his wife. ''E's afraid, 'e is. See 'im slinkin'
+awy like a bloomin' mongrel with 'is tail between 'is legs. Ugh!' She
+walked just behind him, shouting and brandishing her arms.</p>
+
+<p>'Yer dirty beast, you,' she yelled, 'ter go foolin' abaht with a
+little girl! Ugh! I wish yer wasn't my 'usbind; I wouldn't  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> be seen
+drowned with yer, if I could 'elp it. Yer mike me sick ter look at
+yer.'</p>
+
+<p>The crowd followed them on both sides of the road, keeping at a
+discreet distance, but still eagerly listening.</p>
+
+<p>Jim turned on her once or twice and said:</p>
+
+<p>'Shut up!'</p>
+
+<p>But it only made her more angry. 'I tell yer I shan't shut up. I don't
+care 'oo knows it, you're a &mdash;&mdash;, you are! I'm ashimed the children
+should 'ave such a father as you. D'yer think I didn't know wot you
+was up ter them nights you was awy&mdash;courtin', yus, courtin'? You're a
+nice man, you are!'</p>
+
+<p>Jim did not answer her, but walked on. At last he turned round to the
+people who were following and said:</p>
+
+<p>'Na then, wot d'you want 'ere? You jolly well clear, or I'll give some
+of you somethin'!'</p>
+
+<p>They were mostly boys and women, and at his words they shrank back.</p>
+
+<p>''E's afraid ter sy anythin' ter me,' jeered Mrs. Blakeston. ''E's a
+beauty!'</p>
+
+<p>Jim entered his house, and she followed him till they came up into
+their room. Polly was giving the children their tea. They all started
+up as they saw their mother with her hair and clothes in disorder,
+blotches of dried blood on her face, and the long scratch-marks.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, mother,' said Polly, 'wot is the matter?'</p>
+
+<p>''E's the matter.' she answered, pointing to her husband. 'It's
+through 'im I've got all this. Look at yer father, children; e's a
+father to be proud of, leavin' yer ter starve an' spendin' 'is week's
+money on a dirty little strumper.'</p>
+
+<p>Jim felt easier now he had not got so many strange eyes on him.</p>
+
+<p>'Now, look 'ere,' he said, 'I'm not goin' ter stand this much longer,
+so just you tike care.'</p>
+
+<p>'I ain't frightened of yer. I know yer'd like ter kill me, but yer'll
+get strung up if you do.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Na, I won't kill yer, but if I 'ave any more of your sauce I'll do
+the next thing to it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Touch me if yer dare,' she said, 'I'll 'ave the law on you. An' I
+shouldn't mind 'ow many month's 'ard you got.'</p>
+
+<p>'Be quiet!' he said, and, closing his hand, gave her a heavy blow in
+the chest that made her stagger.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, you &mdash;&mdash;!' she screamed.</p>
+
+<p>She seized the poker, and in a fury of rage rushed at him.</p>
+
+<p>'Would yer?' he said, catching hold of it and wrenching it from her
+grasp. He threw it to the end of the room and grappled with her. For a
+moment they swayed about from side to side, then with an effort he
+lifted her off her feet and threw her to the ground; but she caught
+hold of him and he came down on the top of her. She screamed as her
+head thumped down on the floor, and the children, who were standing
+huddled up in a corner, terrified, screamed too.</p>
+
+<p>Jim caught hold of his wife's head and began beating it against the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>She cried out: 'You're killing me! Help! help!'</p>
+
+<p>Polly in terror ran up to her father and tried to pull him off.</p>
+
+<p>'Father, don't 'it 'er! Anythin' but thet&mdash;for God's sike!'</p>
+
+<p>'Leave me alone,' he said, 'or I'll give you somethin' too.'</p>
+
+<p>She caught hold of his arm, but Jim, still kneeling on his wife, gave
+Polly a backhanded blow which sent her staggering back.</p>
+
+<p>'Tike that!'</p>
+
+<p>Polly ran out of the room, downstairs to the first-floor front, where
+two men and two women were sitting at tea.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, come an' stop father!' she cried. ''E's killin' mother!'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, wot's 'e doin'?'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, 'e's got 'er on the floor, an' 'e's bangin' 'er 'ead. 'E's payin'
+'er aht for givin' Liza Kemp a 'idin'.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> </p>
+
+<p>One of the women started up and said to her husband:</p>
+
+<p>'Come on, John, you go an' stop it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't you, John,' said the other man. 'When a man's givin' 'is wife
+socks it's best not ter interfere.'</p>
+
+<p>'But 'e's killin' 'er,' repeated Polly, trembling with fright.</p>
+
+<p>'Garn!' rejoined the man, 'she'll git over it; an' p'raps she deserves
+it, for all you know.'</p>
+
+<p>John sat undecided, looking now at Polly, now at his wife, and now at
+the other man.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, do be quick&mdash;for God's sike!' said Polly.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment a sound as of something smashing was heard upstairs,
+and a woman's shriek. Mrs. Blakeston, in an effort to tear herself away
+from her husband, had knocked up against the wash-hand stand, and the
+whole thing had crashed down.</p>
+
+<p>'Go on, John,' said the wife.</p>
+
+<p>'No, I ain't goin'; I shan't do no good, an' 'e'll only round on me.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, you are a bloomin' lot of cowards, thet's all I can say,'
+indignantly answered the wife. 'But I ain't goin' ter see a woman
+murdered; I'll go an' stop 'im.'</p>
+
+<p>With that she ran upstairs and threw open the door. Jim was still
+kneeling on his wife, hitting her furiously, while she was trying to
+protect her head and face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>'Leave off!' shouted the woman.</p>
+
+<p>Jim looked up. ''Oo the devil are you?' he said.</p>
+
+<p>'Leave off, I tell yer. Aren't yer ashimed of yerself, knockin' a
+woman abaht like that?' And she sprang at him, seizing his fist.</p>
+
+<p>'Let go,' he said, 'or I'll give you a bit.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yer'd better not touch me,' she said. 'Yer dirty coward! Why, look at
+'er, she's almost senseless.'</p>
+
+<p>Jim stopped and gazed at his wife. He got up and gave her a kick.</p>
+
+<p>'Git up!' he said; but she remained huddled up on the  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> floor, moaning
+feebly. The woman from downstairs went on her knees and took her head
+in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind, Mrs. Blakeston. 'E's not goin' ter touch yer. 'Ere, drink
+this little drop of water.' Then turning to Jim, with infinite
+disdain: 'Yer dirty blackguard, you! If I was a man I'd give you
+something for this.'</p>
+
+<p>Jim put on his hat and went out, slamming the door, while the woman
+shouted after him: 'Good riddance!'</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>'Lord love yer,' said Mrs. Kemp, 'wot is the matter?'</p>
+
+<p>She had just come in, and opening the door had started back in
+surprise at seeing Liza on the bed, all tears. Liza made no answer,
+but cried as if her heart were breaking. Mrs. Kemp went up to her and
+tried to look at her face.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't cry, dearie; tell us wot it is.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza sat up and dried her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'I am so un'appy!'</p>
+
+<p>'Wot 'ave yer been doin' ter yer fice? My!'</p>
+
+<p>'Nothin'.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn! Yer can't 'ave got a fice like thet all by itself.'</p>
+
+<p>'I 'ad a bit of a scrimmage with a woman dahn the street,' sobbed out
+Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'She 'as give yer a doin'; an' yer all upset&mdash;an' look at yer eye! I
+brought in a little bit of stike for ter-morrer's dinner; you just cut
+a bit off an' put it over yer optic, that'll soon put it right. I
+always used ter do thet myself when me an' your poor father 'ad
+words.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I'm all over in a tremble, an' my 'ead, oo, my 'ead does feel
+bad!'</p>
+
+<p>'I know wot yer want,' remarked Mrs. Kemp, nodding her head, 'an' it so
+'appens as I've got the very thing with me.' She pulled a medicine
+bottle out of her pocket, and taking out the cork smelt it. 'Thet's
+good stuff, none of your firewater or your methylated spirit. I don't
+often indulge in sich things, but when I do I likes to 'ave the best.'</p>
+<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span> </p>
+<p>She handed the bottle to Liza, who took a mouthful and gave it her
+back; she had a drink herself, and smacked her lips.</p>
+
+<p>'Thet's good stuff. 'Ave a drop more.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na,' said Liza, 'I ain't used ter drinkin' spirits.'</p>
+
+<p>She felt dull and miserable, and a heavy pain throbbed through her
+head. If she could only forget!</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I know you're not, but, bless your soul, thet won' 'urt yer.
+It'll do you no end of good. Why, often when I've been feelin' thet
+done up thet I didn't know wot ter do with myself, I've just 'ad a
+little drop of whisky or gin&mdash;I'm not partic'ler wot spirit it is&mdash;an'
+it's pulled me up wonderful.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza took another sip, a slightly longer one; it burnt as it went down
+her throat, and sent through her a feeling of comfortable warmth.</p>
+
+<p>'I really do think it's doin' me good,' she said, wiping her eyes and
+giving a sigh of relief as the crying ceased.</p>
+
+<p>'I knew it would. Tike my word for it, if people took a little drop of
+spirits in time, there'd be much less sickness abaht.'</p>
+
+<p>They sat for a while in silence, then Mrs. Kemp remarked:</p>
+
+<p>'Yer know, Liza, it strikes me as 'ow we could do with a drop more.
+You not bein' in the 'abit of tikin' anythin' I only brought just this
+little drop for me; an' it ain't took us long ter finish thet up. But
+as you're an invalid like we'll git a little more this time; it's sure
+ter turn aht useful.'</p>
+
+<p>'But you ain't got nothin' ter put it in.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, I 'ave,' answered Mrs. Kemp; 'there's thet bottle as they gives
+me at the 'orspital. Just empty the medicine aht into the pile, an'
+wash it aht, an' I'll tike it round to the pub myself.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza, when she was left alone, began to turn things over in her mind.
+She did not feel so utterly unhappy as before, for the things she had
+gone through seemed further away.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'After all,' she said, 'it don't so much matter.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kemp came in.</p>
+
+<p>''Ave a little drop more, Liza.' she said.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I don't mind if I do. I'll get some tumblers, shall I? There's
+no mistike abaht it,' she added, when she had taken a little, 'it do
+buck yer up.'</p>
+
+<p>'You're right, Liza&mdash;you're right. An' you wanted it badly. Fancy you
+'avin' a fight with a woman! Oh, I've 'ad some in my day, but then I
+wasn't a little bit of a thing like you is. I wish I'd been there, I
+wouldn't 'ave stood by an' looked on while my daughter was gettin' the
+worst of it; although I'm turned sixty-five, an' gettin' on for
+sixty-six, I'd 'ave said to 'er: "If you touch my daughter you'll 'ave
+me ter deal with, so just look aht!"'</p>
+
+<p>She brandished her glass, and that reminding her, she refilled it and
+Liza's.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, Liza,' she remarked, 'you're a chip of the old block. Ter see you
+settin' there an' 'avin' your little drop, it mikes me feel as if I
+was livin' a better life. Yer used ter be rather 'ard on me, Liza,
+'cause I took a little drop on Saturday nights. An', mind, I don't sy
+I didn't tike a little drop too much sometimes&mdash;accidents will occur
+even in the best regulated of families, but wot I say is this&mdash;it's
+good stuff, I say, an' it don't 'urt yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Buck up, old gal!' said Liza, filling the glasses, 'no 'eel-taps. I
+feel like a new woman now. I was thet dahn in the dumps&mdash;well, I
+shouldn't 'ave cared if I'd been at the bottom of the river, an'
+thet's the truth.'</p>
+
+<p>'You don't sy so,' replied her affectionate mother.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, I do, an' I mean it too, but I don't feel like thet now. You're
+right, mother, when you're in trouble there's nothin' like a bit of
+spirits.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, if I don't know, I dunno 'oo does, for the trouble I've 'ad, it
+'ud be enough to kill many women. Well, I've 'ad thirteen children,
+an' you can think wot thet was; everyone  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span> I 'ad I used ter sy I
+wouldn't 'ave no more&mdash;but one does, yer know. You'll 'ave a family
+some day, Liza, an' I shouldn't wonder if you didn't 'ave as many as
+me. We come from a very prodigal family, we do, we've all gone in ter
+double figures, except your Aunt Mary, who only 'ad three&mdash;but then
+she wasn't married, so it didn't count, like.'</p>
+
+<p>They drank each other's health. Everything was getting blurred to
+Liza, she was losing her head.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus,' went on Mrs. Kemp, 'I've 'ad thirteen children an' I'm proud of
+it. As your poor dear father used ter sy, it shows as 'ow one's got
+the blood of a Briton in one. Your poor dear father, 'e was a great
+'and at speakin' 'e was: 'e used ter speak at parliamentary
+meetin's&mdash;I really believe 'e'd 'ave been a Member of Parliament if
+'e'd been alive now. Well, as I was sayin', your father 'e used ter
+sy, "None of your small families for me, I don't approve of them,"
+says 'e. 'E was a man of very 'igh principles, an' by politics 'e was
+a Radical. "No," says 'e, when 'e got talkin', "when a man can 'ave a
+family risin' into double figures, it shows 'e's got the backbone of a
+Briton in 'im. That's the stuff as 'as built up England's nime and
+glory! When one thinks of the mighty British Hempire," says 'e, "on
+which the sun never sets from mornin' till night, one 'as ter be proud
+of 'isself, an' one 'as ter do one's duty in thet walk of life in
+which it 'as pleased Providence ter set one&mdash;an' every man's fust duty
+is ter get as many children as 'e bloomin' well can." Lord love
+yer&mdash;'e could talk, I can tell yer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Drink up, mother,' said Liza. 'You're not 'alf drinkin'.' She
+flourished the bottle. 'I don't care a twopanny 'ang for all them
+blokes; I'm quite 'appy, an' I don't want anythin' else.'</p>
+
+<p>'I can see you're my daughter now,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'When yer used ter
+round on me I used ter think as 'ow if I 'adn't carried yer for nine
+months, it must 'ave been some mistike, an' yer wasn't my daughter at
+all. When you come  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> ter think of it, a man 'e don't know if it's 'is
+child or somebody else's, but yer can't deceive a woman like thet. Yer
+couldn't palm off somebody else's kid on 'er.'</p>
+
+<p>'I am beginnin' ter feel quite lively,' said Liza. 'I dunno wot it is,
+but I feel as if I wanted to laugh till I fairly split my sides.'</p>
+
+<p>And she began to sing: 'For 'e's a jolly good feller&mdash;for 'e's a jolly
+good feller!'</p>
+
+<p>Her dress was all disarranged; her face covered with the scars of
+scratches, and clots of blood had fixed under her nose; her eye had
+swollen up so that it was nearly closed, and red; her hair was hanging
+over her face and shoulders, and she laughed stupidly and leered with
+heavy, sodden ugliness.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Disy, Disy! I can't afford a kerridge.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But you'll look neat, on the seat<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of a bicycle mide for two.'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>She shouted out the tunes, beating time on the table, and her mother,
+grinning, with her thin, grey hair hanging dishevelled over her head,
+joined in with her weak, cracked voice&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">'Oh, dem golden kippers, oh!'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Then Liza grew more melancholy and broke into 'Auld Lang Syne'.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">'Should old acquaintance be forgot<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">And never brought to mind?</span>
+<hr style='width: 20%;' />
+<span class="i6">For old lang syne'.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Finally they both grew silent, and in a little while there came a
+snore from Mrs. Kemp; her head fell forward to her chest; Liza tumbled
+from her chair on to the bed, and sprawling across it fell asleep.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span> </p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">'<i>Although I am drunk and bad, be you kind,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Cast a glance at this heart which is bewildered and distressed.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>O God, take away from my mind my cry and my complaint.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Offer wine, and take sorrow from my remembrance.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Offer wine.</i>'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> </p>
+<h2><a name="chapter_12" id="chapter_12"></a>12</h2>
+
+
+<p>About the middle of the night Liza woke; her mouth was hot and dry,
+and a sharp, cutting pain passed through her head as she moved. Her
+mother had evidently roused herself, for she was lying in bed by her
+side, partially undressed, with all the bedclothes rolled round her.
+Liza shivered in the cold night, and taking off some of her
+things&mdash;her boots, her skirt, and jacket&mdash;got right into bed; she
+tried to get some of the blanket from her mother, but as she pulled
+Mrs. Kemp gave a growl in her sleep and drew the clothes more tightly
+round her. So Liza put over herself her skirt and a shawl, which was
+lying over the end of the bed, and tried to go to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>But she could not; her head and hands were broiling hot, and she was
+terribly thirsty; when she lifted herself up to get a drink of water
+such a pang went through her head that she fell back on the bed
+groaning, and lay there with beating heart. And strange pains that she
+did not know went through her. Then a cold shiver seemed to rise in
+the very marrow of her bones and run down every artery and vein,
+freezing the blood; her skin puckered up, and drawing up her legs she
+lay huddled together in a heap, the shawl wrapped tightly round her,
+and her teeth chattering. Shivering, she whispered:</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, I'm so cold, so cold. Mother, give me some clothes; I shall die
+of the cold. Oh, I'm freezing!'</p>
+
+<p>But after awhile the cold seemed to give way, and a sudden heat seized
+her, flushing her face, making her break out into perspiration, so
+that she threw everything off and loosened the things about her neck.</p>
+
+<p>'Give us a drink,' she said. 'Oh, I'd give anythin' for a little drop
+of water!'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> </p>
+
+<p>There was no one to hear; Mrs. Kemp continued to sleep heavily,
+occasionally breaking out into a little snore.</p>
+
+<p>Liza remained there, now shivering with cold, now panting for breath,
+listening to the regular, heavy breathing by her side, and in her pain
+she sobbed. She pulled at her pillow and said:</p>
+
+<p>'Why can't I go to sleep? Why can't I sleep like 'er?'</p>
+
+<p>And the darkness was awful; it was a heavy, ghastly blackness, that
+seemed palpable, so that it frightened her and she looked for relief
+at the faint light glimmering through the window from a distant
+street-lamp. She thought the night would never end&mdash;the minutes seemed
+like hours, and she wondered how she should live through till morning.
+And strange pains that she did not know went through her.</p>
+
+<p>Still the night went on, the darkness continued, cold and horrible,
+and her mother breathed loudly and steadily by her side.</p>
+
+<p>At last with the morning sleep came; but the sleep was almost worse
+than the wakefulness, for it was accompanied by ugly, disturbing
+dreams. Liza thought she was going through the fight with her enemy,
+and Mrs. Blakeston grew enormous in size, and multiplied, so that every
+way she turned the figure confronted her. And she began running away,
+and she ran and ran till she found herself reckoning up an account she
+had puzzled over in the morning, and she did it backwards and
+forwards, upwards and downwards, starting here, starting there, and
+the figures got mixed up with other things, and she had to begin over
+again, and everything jumbled up, and her head whirled, till finally,
+with a start, she woke.</p>
+
+<p>The darkness had given way to a cold, grey dawn, her uncovered legs
+were chilled to the bone, and by her side she heard again the regular,
+nasal breathing of the drunkard.</p>
+
+<p>For a long while she lay where she was, feeling very sick and ill, but
+better than in the night. At last her mother woke.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Liza!' she called.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, mother,' she answered feebly.</p>
+
+<p>'Git us a cup of tea, will yer?'</p>
+
+<p>'I can't, mother, I'm ill.'</p>
+
+<p>'Garn!' said Mrs. Kemp, in surprise. Then looking at her: 'Swop me bob,
+wot's up with yer? Why, yer cheeks is flushed, an' yer forehead&mdash;it is
+'ot! Wot's the matter with yer, gal?'</p>
+
+<p>'I dunno,' said Liza. 'I've been thet bad all night, I thought I was
+goin' ter die.'</p>
+
+<p>'I know wot it is,' said Mrs. Kemp, shaking her head; 'the fact is, you
+ain't used ter drinkin', an' of course it's upset yer. Now me, why I'm
+as fresh as a disy. Tike my word, there ain't no good in teetotalism;
+it finds yer aht in the end, an' it's found you aht.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kemp considered it a judgment of Providence. She got up and mixed
+some whisky and water.</p>
+
+<p>''Ere, drink this,' she said. 'When one's 'ad a drop too much at
+night, there's nothin' like havin' a drop more in the mornin' ter put
+one right. It just acts like magic.'</p>
+
+<p>'Tike it awy,' said Liza, turning from it in disgust; 'the smell of it
+gives me the sick. I'll never touch spirits again.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, thet's wot we all says sometime in our lives, but we does, an'
+wot's more we can't do withaht it. Why, me, the 'ard life I've 'ad&mdash;'
+It is unnecessary to repeat Mrs. Kemp's repetitions.</p>
+
+<p>Liza did not get up all day. Tom came to inquire after her, and was
+told she was very ill. Liza plaintively asked whether anyone else had
+been, and sighed a little when her mother answered no. But she felt
+too ill to think much or trouble much about anything. The fever came
+again as the day wore on, and the pains in her head grew worse. Her
+mother came to bed, and quickly went off to sleep, leaving Liza to
+bear her agony alone. She began to have frightful pains all over her,
+and she held her breath to prevent herself from crying  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> out and waking
+her mother. She clutched the sheets in her agony, and at last, about
+six o'clock in the morning, she could bear it no longer, and in the
+anguish of labour screamed out, and woke her mother.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kemp was frightened out of her wits. Going upstairs she woke the
+woman who lived on the floor above her. Without hesitating, the good
+lady put on a skirt and came down.</p>
+
+<p>'She's 'ad a miss,' she said, after looking at Liza. 'Is there anyone
+you could send to the 'orspital?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, I dunno 'oo I could get at this hour?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I'll git my old man ter go.'</p>
+
+<p>She called her husband, and sent him off. She was a stout, middle-aged
+woman, rough-visaged and strong-armed. Her name was Mrs. Hodges.</p>
+
+<p>'It's lucky you came ter me,' she said, when she had settled down. 'I
+go aht nursin', yer know, so I know all abaht it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, you surprise me,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'I didn't know as Liza was
+thet way. She never told me nothin' abaht it.'</p>
+
+<p>'D'yer know 'oo it is 'as done it?'</p>
+
+<p>'Now you ask me somethin' I don't know,' replied Mrs. Kemp. 'But now I
+come ter think of it, it must be thet there Tom. 'E's been keepin'
+company with Liza. 'E's a single man, so they'll be able ter get
+married&mdash;thet's somethin'.'</p>
+
+<p>'It ain't Tom,' feebly said Liza.</p>
+
+<p>'Not 'im; 'oo is it, then?'</p>
+
+<p>Liza did not answer.</p>
+
+<p>'Eh?' repeated the mother, ''oo is it?'</p>
+
+<p>Liza lay still without speaking.</p>
+
+<p>'Never mind, Mrs. Kemp,' said Mrs. Hodges, 'don't worry 'er now; you'll
+be able ter find aht all abaht it when she gits better.'</p>
+
+<p>For a while the two women sat still, waiting the doctor's coming, and
+Liza lay gazing vacantly at the wall, panting for  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> breath. Sometimes
+Jim crossed her mind, and she opened her mouth to call for him, but in
+her despair she restrained herself.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor came.</p>
+
+<p>'D'you think she's bad, doctor?' asked Mrs. Hodges.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm afraid she is rather,' he answered. 'I'll come in again this
+evening.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, doctor,' said Mrs. Kemp, as he was going, 'could yer give me
+somethin' for my rheumatics? I'm a martyr to rheumatism, an' these
+cold days I 'ardly knows wot ter do with myself. An', doctor, could
+you let me 'ave some beef-tea? My 'usbind's dead, an' of course I
+can't do no work with my daughter ill like this, an' we're very
+short&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>The day passed, and in the evening Mrs. Hodges, who had been attending
+to her own domestic duties, came downstairs again. Mrs. Kemp was on the
+bed sleeping.</p>
+
+<p>'I was just 'avin' a little nap,' she said to Mrs. Hodges, on waking.</p>
+
+<p>''Ow is the girl?' asked that lady.</p>
+
+<p>'Oh,' answered Mrs. Kemp, 'my rheumatics 'as been thet bad I really
+'aven't known wot ter do with myself, an' now Liza can't rub me I'm
+worse than ever. It is unfortunate thet she should get ill just now
+when I want so much attendin' ter myself, but there, it's just my
+luck!'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Hodges went over and looked at Liza; she was lying just as when
+she left in the morning, her cheeks flushed, her mouth open for
+breath, and tiny beads of sweat stood on her forehead.</p>
+
+<p>''Ow are yer, ducky?' asked Mrs. Hodges; but Liza did not answer.</p>
+
+<p>'It's my belief she's unconscious,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'I've been askin'
+'er 'oo it was as done it, but she don't seem to 'ear wot I say. It's
+been a great shock ter me, Mrs. 'Odges.'</p>
+
+<p>'I believe you,' replied that lady, sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>'Well, when you come in and said wot it was, yer might  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span> 'ave knocked
+me dahn with a feather. I knew no more than the dead wot 'ad
+'appened.'</p>
+
+<p>'I saw at once wot it was,' said Mrs. Hodges, nodding her head.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, of course, you knew. I expect you've 'ad a great deal of
+practice one way an' another.'</p>
+
+<p>'You're right, Mrs. Kemp, you're right. I've been on the job now for
+nearly twenty years, an' if I don't know somethin' abaht it I ought.'</p>
+
+<p>'D'yer finds it pays well?'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, Mrs. Kemp, tike it all in all, I ain't got no grounds for
+complaint. I'm in the 'abit of askin' five shillings, an' I will say
+this, I don't think it's too much for wot I do.'</p>
+
+<p>The news of Liza's illness had quickly spread, and more than once in
+the course of the day a neighbour had come to ask after her. There was
+a knock at the door now, and Mrs. Hodges opened it. Tom stood on the
+threshold asking to come in.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, you can come,' said Mrs. Kemp.</p>
+
+<p>He advanced on tiptoe, so as to make no noise, and for a while stood
+silently looking at Liza. Mrs. Hodges was by his side.</p>
+
+<p>'Can I speak to 'er?' he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>'She can't 'ear you.'</p>
+
+<p>He groaned.</p>
+
+<p>'D'yer think she'll get arright?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Hodges shrugged her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>'I shouldn't like ter give an opinion,' she said, cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>Tom bent over Liza, and, blushing, kissed her; then, without speaking
+further, went out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>'Thet's the young man as was courtin' 'er,' said Mrs. Kemp, pointing
+over her shoulder with her thumb.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after the Doctor came.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot do yer think of 'er, doctor?' said Mrs. Hodges,  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span> bustling forwards
+authoritatively in her position of midwife and sick-nurse.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm afraid she's very bad.'</p>
+
+<p>'D'yer think she's goin' ter die?' she asked, dropping her voice to a
+whisper.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm afraid so!'</p>
+
+<p>As the doctor sat down by Liza's side Mrs. Hodges turned round and
+significantly nodded to Mrs. Kemp, who put her handkerchief to her
+eyes. Then she went outside to the little group waiting at the door.</p>
+
+<p>'Wot does the doctor sy?' they asked, among them Tom.</p>
+
+<p>''E says just wot I've been sayin' all along; I knew she wouldn't
+live.'</p>
+
+<p>And Tom burst out: 'Oh, Liza!'</p>
+
+<p>As she retired a woman remarked:</p>
+
+<p>'Mrs. 'Odges is very clever, I think.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yus,' remarked another, 'she got me through my last confinement
+simply wonderful. If it come to choosin' between 'em I'd back Mrs.
+'Odges against forty doctors.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ter tell yer the truth, so would I. I've never known 'er wrong yet.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Hodges sat down beside Mrs. Kemp and proceeded to comfort her.</p>
+
+<p>'Why don't yer tike a little drop of brandy ter calm yer nerves, Mrs.
+Kemp?' she said, 'you want it.'</p>
+
+<p>'I was just feelin' rather faint, an' I couldn't 'elp thinkin' as 'ow
+twopenneth of whisky 'ud do me good.'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, Mrs. Kemp,' said Mrs. Hodges, earnestly, putting her hand on the
+other's arm. 'You tike my tip&mdash;when you're queer there's nothin' like
+brandy for pullin' yer togither. I don't object to whisky myself, but
+as a medicine yer can't beat brandy.'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, I won't set up myself as knowin' better than you Mrs. 'Odges;
+I'll do wot you think right.'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span> </p>
+
+<p>Quite accidentally there was some in the room, and Mrs. Kemp poured it
+out for herself and her friend.</p>
+
+<p>'I'm not in the 'abit of tikin' anythin' when I'm aht on business,'
+she apologized, 'but just ter keep you company I don't mind if I do.'</p>
+
+<p>'Your 'ealth. Mrs. 'Odges.'</p>
+
+<p>'Sime ter you, an' thank yer, Mrs. Kemp.'</p>
+
+<p>Liza lay still, breathing very quietly, her eyes closed. The doctor
+kept his fingers on her pulse.</p>
+
+<p>'I've been very unfortunate of lite,' remarked Mrs. Hodges, as she
+licked her lips, 'this mikes the second death I've 'ad in the last ten
+days&mdash;women, I mean, of course I don't count bibies.'</p>
+
+<p>'Yer don't sy so.'</p>
+
+<p>'Of course the other one&mdash;well, she was only a prostitute, so it
+didn't so much matter. It ain't like another woman is it?'</p>
+
+<p>'Na, you're right.'</p>
+
+<p>'Still, one don't like 'em ter die, even if they are thet. One mustn't
+be too 'ard on 'em.'</p>
+
+<p>'Strikes me you've got a very kind 'eart, Mrs. 'Odges,' said Mrs. Kemp.</p>
+
+<p>'I 'ave thet; an' I often says it 'ud be better for my peace of mind
+an' my business if I 'adn't. I 'ave ter go through a lot, I do; but I
+can say this for myself, I always gives satisfaction, an' thet's
+somethin' as all lidies in my line can't say.'</p>
+
+<p>They sipped their brandy for a while.</p>
+
+<p>'It's a great trial ter me that this should 'ave 'appened,' said Mrs.
+Kemp, coming to the subject that had been disturbing her for some
+time. 'Mine's always been a very respectable family, an' such a thing
+as this 'as never 'appened before. No, Mrs. 'Odges, I was lawfully
+married in church, an' I've got my marriage lines now ter show I was,
+an' thet one of my daughters should 'ave gone wrong in this way&mdash;well,
+I can't  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span> understand it. I give 'er a good education, an' she 'ad all
+the comforts of a 'ome. She never wanted for nothin'; I worked myself
+to the bone ter keep 'er in luxury, an' then thet she should go an'
+disgrace me like this!'</p>
+
+<p>'I understand wot yer mean. Mrs. Kemp.'</p>
+
+<p>'I can tell you my family was very respectable; an' my 'usband, 'e
+earned twenty-five shillings a week, an' was in the sime plice
+seventeen years; an' 'is employers sent a beautiful wreath ter put on
+'is coffin; an' they tell me they never 'ad such a good workman an'
+sich an 'onest man before. An' me! Well, I can sy this&mdash;I've done my
+duty by the girl, an' she's never learnt anythin' but good from me. Of
+course I ain't always been in wot yer might call flourishing
+circumstances, but I've always set her a good example, as she could
+tell yer so 'erself if she wasn't speechless.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kemp paused for a moment's reflection.</p>
+
+<p>'As they sy in the Bible,' she finished, 'it's enough ter mike one's
+grey 'airs go dahn into the ground in sorrer. I can show yer my
+marriage certificate. Of course one doesn't like ter say much, because
+of course she's very bad; but if she got well I should 'ave given 'er
+a talkin' ter.'</p>
+
+<p>There was another knock.</p>
+
+<p>'Do go an' see 'oo thet is; I can't, on account of my rheumatics.'</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Hodges opened the door. It was Jim.</p>
+
+<p>He was very white, and the blackness of his hair and beard,
+contrasting with the deathly pallor of his face, made him look
+ghastly. Mrs. Hodges stepped back.</p>
+
+<p>''Oo's 'e?' she said, turning to Mrs. Kemp.</p>
+
+<p>Jim pushed her aside and went up to the bed.</p>
+
+<p>'Doctor, is she very bad?' he asked.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor looked at him questioningly.</p>
+
+<p>Jim whispered: 'It was me as done it. She ain't goin' ter die, is
+she?'</p>
+
+<p>The doctor nodded.</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'O God! wot shall I do? It was my fault! I wish I was dead!'</p>
+
+<p>Jim took the girl's head in his hands, and the tears burst from his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'She ain't dead yet, is she?'</p>
+
+<p>'She's just living,' said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>Jim bent down.</p>
+
+<p>'Liza, Liza, speak ter me! Liza, say you forgive me! Oh, speak ter
+me!'</p>
+
+<p>His voice was full of agony. The doctor spoke.</p>
+
+<p>'She can't hear you.'</p>
+
+<p>'Oh, she must hear me! Liza! Liza!'</p>
+
+<p>He sank on his knees by the bedside.</p>
+
+<p>They all remained silent: Liza lying stiller than ever, her breast
+unmoved by the feeble respiration, Jim looking at her very mournfully;
+the doctor grave, with his fingers on the pulse. The two women looked
+at Jim.</p>
+
+<p>'Fancy it bein' 'im!' said Mrs. Kemp. 'Strike me lucky, ain't 'e a
+sight!'</p>
+
+<p>'You 'ave got 'er insured, Mrs. Kemp?' asked the midwife. She could
+bear the silence no longer.</p>
+
+<p>'Trust me fur thet!' replied the good lady. 'I've 'ad 'er insured ever
+since she was born. Why, only the other dy I was sayin' ter myself
+thet all thet money 'ad been wisted, but you see it wasn't; yer never
+know yer luck, you see!'</p>
+
+<p>'Quite right, Mrs. Kemp; I'm a rare one for insurin'. It's a great
+thing. I've always insured all my children.'</p>
+
+<p>'The way I look on it is this,' said Mrs. Kemp&mdash;'wotever yer do when
+they're alive, an' we all know as children is very tryin' sometimes,
+you should give them a good funeral when they dies. Thet's my motto,
+an' I've always acted up to it.'</p>
+
+<p>'Do you deal with Mr. Stearman?' asked Mrs. Hodges.</p>
+
+<p>'No, Mrs. 'Odges, for undertikin' give me Mr. Footley every time. In the
+black line 'e's fust an' the rest nowhere!'</p><p> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> </p>
+
+<p>'Well, thet's very strange now&mdash;thet's just wot I think. Mr. Footley
+does 'is work well, an' 'e's very reasonable. I'm a very old customer
+of 'is, an' 'e lets me 'ave things as cheap as anybody.'</p>
+
+<p>'Does 'e indeed! Well Mrs. 'Odges if it ain't askin' too much of yer, I
+should look upon it as very kind if you'd go an' mike the arrangements
+for Liza.'</p>
+
+<p>'Why, certainly, Mrs. Kemp. I'm always willin' ter do a good turn to
+anybody, if I can.'</p>
+
+<p>'I want it done very respectable,' said Mrs. Kemp; 'I'm not goin' ter
+stint for nothin' for my daughter's funeral. I like plumes, you know,
+although they is a bit extra.'</p>
+
+<p>'Never you fear, Mrs. Kemp, it shall be done as well as if it was for
+my own 'usbind, an' I can't say more than thet. Mr. Footley thinks a
+deal of me, 'e does! Why, only the other dy as I was goin' inter 'is
+shop 'e says "Good mornin', Mrs. 'Odges." "Good mornin', Mr. Footley,"
+says I. "You've jest come in the nick of time," says 'e. "This
+gentleman an' myself," pointin' to another gentleman as was standin'
+there, "we was 'avin' a bit of an argument. Now you're a very
+intelligent woman, Mrs. 'Odges, and a good customer too." "I can say
+thet for myself," say I, "I gives yer all the work I can." "I believe
+you," says 'e. "Well," 'e says, "now which do you think? Does hoak
+look better than helm, or does helm look better than hoak? Hoak
+<i>versus</i> helm, thet's the question." "Well, Mr. Footley," says I, "for
+my own private opinion, when you've got a nice brass plite in the
+middle, an' nice brass 'andles each end, there's nothin' like hoak."
+"Quite right," says 'e, "thet's wot I think; for coffins give me hoak
+any day, an' I 'ope," says 'e, "when the Lord sees fit ter call me to
+'Imself, I shall be put in a hoak coffin myself." "Amen," says I.'</p>
+
+<p>'I like hoak,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'My poor 'usband 'e 'ad a hoak coffin.
+We did 'ave a job with 'im, I can tell yer. You know 'e 'ad dropsy,
+an' 'e swell up&mdash;oh, 'e did swell; 'is  <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span> own mother wouldn't 'ave known
+'im. Why, 'is leg swell up till it was as big round as 'is body, swop
+me bob, it did.'</p>
+
+<p>'Did it indeed!' ejaculated Mrs. Hodges.</p>
+
+<p>'Yus, an' when 'e died they sent the coffin up. I didn't 'ave Mr.
+Footley at thet time; we didn't live 'ere then, we lived in Battersea,
+an' all our undertikin' was done by Mr. Brownin'; well, 'e sent the
+coffin up, an' we got my old man in, but we couldn't get the lid down,
+he was so swell up. Well, Mr. Brownin', 'e was a great big man,
+thirteen stone if 'e was a ounce. Well, 'e stood on the coffin, an' a
+young man 'e 'ad with 'im stood on it too, an' the lid simply wouldn't
+go dahn; so Mr. Browning', 'e said, "Jump on, missus," so I was in my
+widow's weeds, yer know, but we 'ad ter git it dahn, so I stood on it,
+an' we all jumped, an' at last we got it to, an' screwed it; but,
+lor', we did 'ave a job; I shall never forget it.'</p>
+
+<p>Then all was silence. And a heaviness seemed to fill the air like a
+grey blight, cold and suffocating; and the heaviness was Death. They
+felt the presence in the room, and they dared not move, they dared not
+draw their breath. The silence was terrifying.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a sound was heard&mdash;a loud rattle. It was from the bed and
+rang through the room, piercing the stillness.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor opened one of Liza's eyes and touched it, then he laid on
+her breast the hand he had been holding, and drew the sheet over her
+head.</p>
+
+<p>Jim turned away with a look of intense weariness on his face, and the
+two women began weeping silently. The darkness was sinking before the
+day, and a dim, grey light came through the window. The lamp
+spluttered out.</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Liza of Lambeth, by W. Somerset Maugham
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diff --git a/16517.txt b/16517.txt
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+++ b/16517.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Liza of Lambeth, by W. Somerset Maugham
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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
+
+
+Title: Liza of Lambeth
+
+Author: W. Somerset Maugham
+
+Release Date: August 12, 2005 [EBook #16517]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIZA OF LAMBETH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Mark C. Orton, Sankar Viswanathan and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                           _Liza of Lambeth_
+
+
+
+                           SOMERSET MAUGHAM
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                             PENGUIN BOOKS
+
+
+
+
+                    Published by the Penguin Group
+
+    First published in Great Britain by William Heinemann Ltd 1897
+
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+It was the first Saturday afternoon in August; it had been broiling
+hot all day, with a cloudless sky, and the sun had been beating down
+on the houses, so that the top rooms were like ovens; but now with the
+approach of evening it was cooler, and everyone in Vere Street was out
+of doors.
+
+Vere street, Lambeth, is a short, straight street leading out of the
+Westminster Bridge Road; it has forty houses on one side and forty
+houses on the other, and these eighty houses are very much more like
+one another than ever peas are like peas, or young ladies like young
+ladies. They are newish, three-storied buildings of dingy grey brick
+with slate roofs, and they are perfectly flat, without a bow-window or
+even a projecting cornice or window-sill to break the straightness of
+the line from one end of the street to the other.
+
+This Saturday afternoon the street was full of life; no traffic came
+down Vere Street, and the cemented space between the pavements was
+given up to children. Several games of cricket were being played by
+wildly excited boys, using coats for wickets, an old tennis-ball or a
+bundle of rags tied together for a ball, and, generally, an old
+broomstick for bat. The wicket was so large and the bat so small that
+the man in was always getting bowled, when heated quarrels would
+arise, the batter absolutely refusing to go out and the bowler
+absolutely insisting on going in. The girls were more peaceable; they
+were chiefly employed in skipping, and only abused one another mildly
+when the rope was not properly turned or the skipper did not jump
+sufficiently high. Worst off of all were the very young children, for
+there had been no rain for weeks, and the street was as dry and clean
+as a covered court, and, in the lack of mud to wallow in, they sat
+about the road, disconsolate as poets. The number of babies was
+prodigious; they sprawled about everywhere, on the pavement, round the
+doors, and about their mothers' skirts. The grown-ups were gathered
+round the open doors; there were usually two women squatting on the
+doorstep, and two or three more seated on either side on chairs; they
+were invariably nursing babies, and most of them showed clear signs
+that the present object of the maternal care would be soon ousted by a
+new arrival. Men were less numerous but such as there were leant
+against the walls, smoking, or sat on the sills of the ground-floor
+windows. It was the dead season in Vere Street as much as in
+Belgravia, and really if it had not been for babies just come or just
+about to come, and an opportune murder in a neighbouring doss-house,
+there would have been nothing whatever to talk about. As it was, the
+little groups talked quietly, discussing the atrocity or the merits of
+the local midwives, comparing the circumstances of their various
+confinements.
+
+'You'll be 'avin' your little trouble soon, eh, Polly?' asked one good
+lady of another.
+
+'Oh, I reckon I've got another two months ter go yet,' answered Polly.
+
+'Well,' said a third. 'I wouldn't 'ave thought you'd go so long by the
+look of yer!'
+
+'I 'ope you'll have it easier this time, my dear,' said a very stout
+old person, a woman of great importance.
+
+'She said she wasn't goin' to 'ave no more, when the last one come.'
+This remark came from Polly's husband.
+
+'Ah,' said the stout old lady, who was in the business, and boasted
+vast experience. 'That's wot they all says; but, Lor' bless yer, they
+don't mean it.'
+
+'Well, I've got three, and I'm not goin' to 'ave no more bli'me if I
+will; 'tain't good enough--that's wot I says.'
+
+'You're abaht right there, ole gal,' said Polly, 'My word, 'Arry, if
+you 'ave any more I'll git a divorce, that I will.'
+
+At that moment an organ-grinder turned the corner and came down the
+street.
+
+'Good biz; 'ere's an organ!' cried half a dozen people at once.
+
+The organ-man was an Italian, with a shock of black hair and a
+ferocious moustache. Drawing his organ to a favourable spot, he
+stopped, released his shoulder from the leather straps by which he
+dragged it, and cocking his large soft hat on the side of his head,
+began turning the handle. It was a lively tune, and in less than no
+time a little crowd had gathered round to listen, chiefly the young
+men and the maidens, for the married ladies were never in a fit state
+to dance, and therefore disinclined to trouble themselves to stand
+round the organ. There was a moment's hesitation at opening the ball;
+then one girl said to another:
+
+'Come on, Florrie, you and me ain't shy; we'll begin, and bust it!'
+
+The two girls took hold of one another, one acting gentleman, the
+other lady; three or four more pairs of girls immediately joined them,
+and they began a waltz. They held themselves very upright; and with an
+air of grave dignity which was quite impressive, glided slowly about,
+making their steps with the utmost precision, bearing themselves with
+sufficient decorum for a court ball. After a while the men began to
+itch for a turn, and two of them, taking hold of one another in the
+most approved fashion, waltzed round the circle with the gravity of
+judges.
+
+All at once there was a cry: 'There's Liza!' And several members of
+the group turned and called out: 'Oo, look at Liza!'
+
+The dancers stopped to see the sight, and the organ-grinder, having
+come to the end of his tune, ceased turning the handle and looked to
+see what was the excitement.
+
+'Oo, Liza!' they called out. 'Look at Liza; oo, I sy!'
+
+It was a young girl of about eighteen, with dark eyes, and an enormous
+fringe, puffed-out and curled and frizzed, covering her whole forehead
+from side to side, and coming down to meet her eyebrows. She was
+dressed in brilliant violet, with great lappets of velvet, and she had
+on her head an enormous black hat covered with feathers.
+
+'I sy, ain't she got up dossy?' called out the groups at the doors, as
+she passed.
+
+'Dressed ter death, and kill the fashion; that's wot I calls it.'
+
+Liza saw what a sensation she was creating; she arched her back and
+lifted her head, and walked down the street, swaying her body from
+side to side, and swaggering along as though the whole place belonged
+to her.
+
+''Ave yer bought the street, Bill?' shouted one youth; and then half a
+dozen burst forth at once, as if by inspiration:
+
+'Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!'
+
+It was immediately taken up by a dozen more, and they all yelled it
+out:
+
+'Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road. Yah, ah, knocked 'em in the Old
+Kent Road!'
+
+'Oo, Liza!' they shouted; the whole street joined in, and they gave
+long, shrill, ear-piercing shrieks and strange calls, that rung down
+the street and echoed back again.
+
+'Hextra special!' called out a wag.
+
+'Oh, Liza! Oo! Ooo!' yells and whistles, and then it thundered forth
+again:
+
+'Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!'
+
+Liza put on the air of a conquering hero, and sauntered on, enchanted
+at the uproar. She stuck out her elbows and jerked her head on one
+side, and said to herself as she passed through the bellowing crowd:
+
+'This is jam!'
+
+'Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!'
+
+When she came to the group round the barrel-organ, one of the girls
+cried out to her:
+
+'Is that yer new dress, Liza?'
+
+'Well, it don't look like my old one, do it?' said Liza.
+
+'Where did yer git it?' asked another friend, rather enviously.
+
+'Picked it up in the street, of course,' scornfully answered Liza.
+
+'I believe it's the same one as I saw in the pawnbroker's dahn the
+road,' said one of the men, to tease her.
+
+'Thet's it; but wot was you doin' in there? Pledgin' yer shirt, or was
+it yer trousers?'
+
+'Yah, I wouldn't git a second-'and dress at a pawnbroker's!'
+
+'Garn!' said Liza indignantly. 'I'll swipe yer over the snitch if yer
+talk ter me. I got the mayterials in the West Hend, didn't I? And I
+'ad it mide up by my Court Dressmiker, so you jolly well dry up, old
+jellybelly.'
+
+'Garn!' was the reply.
+
+Liza had been so intent on her new dress and the comment it was
+exciting that she had not noticed the organ.
+
+'Oo, I say, let's 'ave some dancin',' she said as soon as she saw it.
+'Come on, Sally,' she added, to one of the girls, 'you an' me'll dance
+togither. Grind away, old cock!'
+
+The man turned on a new tune, and the organ began to play the
+Intermezzo from the 'Cavalleria'; other couples quickly followed
+Liza's example, and they began to waltz round with the same solemnity
+as before; but Liza outdid them all; if the others were as stately as
+queens, she was as stately as an empress; the gravity and dignity with
+which she waltzed were something appalling, you felt that the minuet
+was a frolic in comparison; it would have been a fitting measure to
+tread round the grave of a _premiere danseuse_, or at the funeral of a
+professional humorist. And the graces she put on, the languor of the
+eyes, the contemptuous curl of the lips, the exquisite turn of the
+hand, the dainty arching of the foot! You felt there could be no
+questioning her right to the tyranny of Vere Street.
+
+Suddenly she stopped short, and disengaged herself from her companion.
+
+'Oh, I sy,' she said, 'this is too bloomin' slow; it gives me the
+sick.'
+
+That is not precisely what she said, but it is impossible always to
+give the exact unexpurgated words of Liza and the other personages of
+the story, the reader is therefore entreated with his thoughts to
+piece out the necessary imperfections of the dialogue.
+
+'It's too bloomin' slow,' she said again; 'it gives me the sick. Let's
+'ave somethin' a bit more lively than this 'ere waltz. You stand over
+there, Sally, an' we'll show 'em 'ow ter skirt dance.'
+
+They all stopped waltzing.
+
+'Talk of the ballet at the Canterbury and South London. You just wite
+till you see the ballet at Vere Street, Lambeth--we'll knock 'em!'
+
+She went up to the organ-grinder.
+
+'Na then, Italiano,' she said to him, 'you buck up; give us a tune
+that's got some guts in it! See?'
+
+She caught hold of his big hat and squashed it down over his eyes. The
+man grinned from ear to ear, and, touching the little catch at the
+side, began to play a lively tune such as Liza had asked for.
+
+The men had fallen out, but several girls had put themselves in
+position, in couples, standing face to face; and immediately the music
+struck up, they began. They held up their skirts on each side, so as
+to show their feet, and proceeded to go through the difficult steps
+and motions of the dance. Liza was right; they could not have done it
+better in a trained ballet. But the best dancer of them all was Liza;
+she threw her whole soul into it; forgetting the stiff bearing which
+she had thought proper to the waltz, and casting off its elaborate
+graces, she gave herself up entirely to the present pleasure.
+Gradually the other couples stood aside, so that Liza and Sally were
+left alone. They paced it carefully, watching each other's steps, and
+as if by instinct performing corresponding movements, so as to make
+the whole a thing of symmetry.
+
+'I'm abaht done,' said Sally, blowing and puffing. 'I've 'ad enough of
+it.'
+
+'Go on, Liza!' cried out a dozen voices when Sally stopped.
+
+She gave no sign of having heard them other than calmly to continue
+her dance. She glided through the steps, and swayed about, and
+manipulated her skirt, all with the most charming grace imaginable,
+then, the music altering, she changed the style of her dancing, her
+feet moved more quickly, and did not keep so strictly to the ground.
+She was getting excited at the admiration of the onlookers, and her
+dance grew wilder and more daring. She lifted her skirts higher,
+brought in new and more difficult movements into her improvisation,
+kicking up her legs she did the wonderful twist, backwards and
+forwards, of which the dancer is proud.
+
+'Look at 'er legs!' cried one of the men.
+
+'Look at 'er stockin's!' shouted another; and indeed they were
+remarkable, for Liza had chosen them of the same brilliant hue as her
+dress, and was herself most proud of the harmony.
+
+Her dance became gayer: her feet scarcely touched the ground, she
+whirled round madly.
+
+'Take care yer don't split!' cried out one of the wags, at a very
+audacious kick.
+
+The words were hardly out of his mouth when Liza, with a gigantic
+effort, raised her foot and kicked off his hat. The feat was greeted
+with applause, and she went on, making turns and twists, flourishing
+her skirts, kicking higher and higher, and finally, among a volley of
+shouts, fell on her hands and turned head over heels in a magnificent
+catharine-wheel; then scrambling to her feet again, she tumbled into
+the arms of a young man standing in the front of the ring.
+
+'That's right, Liza,' he said. 'Give us a kiss, now,' and promptly
+tried to take one.
+
+'Git aht!' said Liza, pushing him away, not too gently.
+
+'Yus, give us a kiss,' cried another, running up to her.
+
+'I'll smack yer in the fice!' said Liza, elegantly, as she dodged him.
+
+'Ketch 'old on 'er, Bill,' cried out a third, 'an' we'll all kiss
+her.'
+
+'Na, you won't!' shrieked Liza, beginning to run.
+
+'Come on,' they cried, 'we'll ketch 'er.'
+
+She dodged in and out, between their legs, under their arms, and then,
+getting clear of the little crowd, caught up her skirts so that they
+might not hinder her, and took to her heels along the street. A score
+of men set in chase, whistling, shouting, yelling; the people at the
+doors looked up to see the fun, and cried out to her as she dashed
+past; she ran like the wind. Suddenly a man from the side darted into
+the middle of the road, stood straight in her way, and before she knew
+where she was, she had jumped shrieking into his arms, and he, lifting
+her up to him, had imprinted two sounding kisses on her cheeks.
+
+'Oh, you ----!' she said. Her expression was quite unprintable; nor can
+it be euphemized.
+
+There was a shout of laughter from the bystanders, and the young men
+in chase of her, and Liza, looking up, saw a big, bearded man whom she
+had never seen before. She blushed to the very roots of her hair,
+quickly extricated herself from his arms, and, amid the jeers and
+laughter of everyone, slid into the door of the nearest house and was
+lost to view.
+
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+Liza and her mother were having supper. Mrs. Kemp was an elderly woman,
+short, and rather stout, with a red face, and grey hair brushed tight
+back over her forehead. She had been a widow for many years, and since
+her husband's death had lived with Liza in the ground-floor front room
+in which they were now sitting. Her husband had been a soldier, and
+from a grateful country she received a pension large enough to keep
+her from starvation, and by charring and doing such odd jobs as she
+could get she earned a little extra to supply herself with liquor.
+Liza was able to make her own living by working at a factory.
+
+Mrs. Kemp was rather sulky this evening.
+
+'Wot was yer doin' this afternoon, Liza?' she asked.
+
+'I was in the street.'
+
+'You're always in the street when I want yer.'
+
+'I didn't know as 'ow yer wanted me, mother,' answered Liza.
+
+'Well, yer might 'ave come ter see! I might 'ave been dead, for all
+you knew.'
+
+Liza said nothing.
+
+'My rheumatics was thet bad to-dy, thet I didn't know wot ter do with
+myself. The doctor said I was to be rubbed with that stuff 'e give me,
+but yer won't never do nothin' for me.'
+
+'Well, mother,' said Liza, 'your rheumatics was all right yesterday.'
+
+'I know wot you was doin'; you was showin' off thet new dress of
+yours. Pretty waste of money thet is, instead of givin' it me ter sive
+up. An' for the matter of thet, I wanted a new dress far worse than
+you did. But, of course, I don't matter.'
+
+Liza did not answer, and Mrs. Kemp, having nothing more to say,
+continued her supper in silence.
+
+It was Liza who spoke next.
+
+'There's some new people moved in the street. 'Ave you seen 'em?' she
+asked.
+
+'No, wot are they?'
+
+'I dunno; I've seen a chap, a big chap with a beard. I think 'e lives
+up at the other end.'
+
+She felt herself blushing a little.
+
+'No one any good you be sure,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'I can't swaller these
+new people as are comin' in; the street ain't wot it was when I fust
+come.'
+
+When they had done, Mrs. Kemp got up, and having finished her half-pint
+of beer, said to her daughter:
+
+'Put the things awy, Liza. I'm just goin' round to see Mrs. Clayton;
+she's just 'ad twins, and she 'ad nine before these come. It's a pity
+the Lord don't see fit ter tike some on 'em--thet's wot I say.'
+
+After which pious remark Mrs. Kemp went out of the house and turned
+into another a few doors up.
+
+Liza did not clear the supper things away as she was told, but opened
+the window and drew her chair to it. She leant on the sill, looking
+out into the street. The sun had set, and it was twilight, the sky was
+growing dark, bringing to view the twinkling stars; there was no
+breeze, but it was pleasantly and restfully cool. The good folk still
+sat at their doorsteps, talking as before on the same inexhaustible
+subjects, but a little subdued with the approach of night. The boys
+were still playing cricket, but they were mostly at the other end of
+the street, and their shouts were muffled before they reached Liza's
+ears.
+
+She sat, leaning her head on her hands, breathing in the fresh air and
+feeling a certain exquisite sense of peacefulness which she was not
+used to. It was Saturday evening, and she thankfully remembered that
+there would be no factory on the morrow; she was glad to rest.
+Somehow she felt a little tired, perhaps it was through the excitement
+of the afternoon, and she enjoyed the quietness of the evening. It
+seemed so tranquil and still; the silence filled her with a strange
+delight, she felt as if she could sit there all through the night
+looking out into the cool, dark street, and up heavenwards at the
+stars. She was very happy, but yet at the same time experienced a
+strange new sensation of melancholy, and she almost wished to cry.
+
+Suddenly a dark form stepped in front of the open window. She gave a
+little shriek.
+
+''Oo's thet?' she asked, for it was quite dark, and she did not
+recognize the man standing in front of her.
+
+'Me, Liza,' was the answer.
+
+'Tom?'
+
+'Yus!'
+
+It was a young man with light yellow hair and a little fair moustache,
+which made him appear almost boyish; he was light-complexioned and
+blue-eyed, and had a frank and pleasant look mingled with a curious
+bashfulness that made him blush when people spoke to him.
+
+'Wot's up?' asked Liza.
+
+'Come aht for a walk, Liza, will yer?'
+
+'No!' she answered decisively.
+
+'You promised ter yesterday, Liza.'
+
+'Yesterday an' ter-day's two different things,' was her wise reply.
+
+'Yus, come on, Liza.'
+
+'Na, I tell yer, I won't.'
+
+'I want ter talk ter yer, Liza.' Her hand was resting on the
+window-sill, and he put his upon it. She quickly drew it back.
+
+'Well, I don't want yer ter talk ter me.'
+
+But she did, for it was she who broke the silence.
+
+'Say, Tom, 'oo are them new folk as 'as come into the street? It's a
+big chap with a brown beard.'
+
+'D'you mean the bloke as kissed yer this afternoon?'
+
+Liza blushed again.
+
+'Well, why shouldn't 'e kiss me?' she said, with some inconsequence.
+
+'I never said as 'ow 'e shouldn't; I only arst yer if it was the
+sime.'
+
+'Yea, thet's 'oo I mean.'
+
+''Is nime is Blakeston--Jim Blakeston. I've only spoke to 'im once;
+he's took the two top rooms at No. 19 'ouse.'
+
+'Wot's 'e want two top rooms for?'
+
+''Im? Oh, 'e's got a big family--five kids. Ain't yer seen 'is wife
+abaht the street? She's a big, fat woman, as does 'er 'air funny.'
+
+'I didn't know 'e 'ad a wife.'
+
+There was another silence; Liza sat thinking, and Tom stood at the
+window, looking at her.
+
+'Won't yer come aht with me, Liza?' he asked, at last.
+
+'Na, Tom,' she said, a little more gently, 'it's too lite.'
+
+'Liza,' he said, blushing to the roots of his hair.
+
+'Well?'
+
+'Liza'--he couldn't go on, and stuttered in his shyness--'Liza,
+I--I--I loves yer, Liza.'
+
+'Garn awy!'
+
+He was quite brave now, and took hold of her hand.
+
+'Yer know, Liza, I'm earnin' twenty-three shillin's at the works now,
+an' I've got some furniture as mother left me when she was took.'
+
+The girl said nothing.
+
+'Liza, will you 'ave me? I'll make yer a good 'usband, Liza, swop me
+bob, I will; an' yer know I'm not a drinkin' sort. Liza, will yer
+marry me?'
+
+'Na, Tom,' she answered quietly.
+
+'Oh, Liza, won't you 'ave me?'
+
+'Na, Tom, I can't.'
+
+'Why not? You've come aht walkin' with me ever since Whitsun.'
+
+'Ah, things is different now.'
+
+'You're not walkin' aht with anybody else, are you, Liza?' he asked
+quickly.
+
+'Na, not that.'
+
+'Well, why won't yer, Liza? Oh Liza, I do love yer, I've never loved
+anybody as I love you!'
+
+'Oh, I can't, Tom!'
+
+'There ain't no one else?'
+
+'Na.'
+
+'Then why not?'
+
+'I'm very sorry, Tom, but I don't love yer so as ter marry yer.'
+
+'Oh, Liza!'
+
+She could not see the look upon his face, but she heard the agony in
+his voice; and, moved with sudden pity, she bent out, threw her arms
+round his neck, and kissed him on both cheeks.
+
+'Never mind old chap!' she said. 'I'm not worth troublin' abaht.'
+
+And quickly drawing back, she slammed the window to, and moved into
+the further part of the room.
+
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+The following day was Sunday. Liza when she was dressing herself in
+the morning, felt the hardness of fate in the impossibility of eating
+one's cake and having it; she wished she had reserved her new dress,
+and had still before her the sensation of a first appearance in it.
+With a sigh she put on her ordinary everyday working dress, and
+proceeded to get the breakfast ready, for her mother had been out late
+the previous night, celebrating the new arrivals in the street, and
+had the 'rheumatics' this morning.
+
+'Oo, my 'ead!' she was saying, as she pressed her hands on each side
+of her forehead. 'I've got the neuralgy again, wot shall I do? I dunno
+'ow it is, but it always comes on Sunday mornings. Oo, an' my
+rheumatics, they give me sich a doin' in the night!'
+
+'You'd better go to the 'orspital mother.'
+
+'Not I!' answered the worthy lady, with great decision. 'You 'as a
+dozen young chaps messin' you abaht, and lookin' at yer, and then they
+tells yer ter leave off beer and spirrits. Well, wot I says, I says I
+can't do withaht my glass of beer.' She thumped her pillow to
+emphasize the statement.
+
+'Wot with the work I 'ave ter do, lookin' after you and the cookin'
+and gettin' everythin' ready and doin' all the 'ouse-work, and goin'
+aht charring besides--well, I says, if I don't 'ave a drop of beer, I
+says, ter pull me together, I should be under the turf in no time.'
+
+She munched her bread-and-butter and drank her tea.
+
+'When you've done breakfast, Liza,' she said, 'you can give the grate
+a cleanin', an' my boots'd do with a bit of polishin'. Mrs. Tike, in
+the next 'ouse, 'll give yer some blackin'.'
+
+She remained silent for a bit, then said:
+
+'I don't think I shall get up ter-day. Liza. My rheumatics is bad. You
+can put the room straight and cook the dinner.'
+
+'Arright, mother, you stay where you are, an' I'll do everythin' for
+yer.'
+
+'Well, it's only wot yer ought to do, considerin' all the trouble
+you've been ter me when you was young, and considerin' thet when you
+was born the doctor thought I never should get through it. Wot 'ave
+you done with your week's money, Liza?'
+
+'Oh, I've put it awy,' answered Liza quietly.
+
+'Where?' asked her mother.
+
+'Where it'll be safe.'
+
+'Where's that?'
+
+Liza was driven into a corner.
+
+'Why d'you want ter know?' she asked.
+
+'Why shouldn't I know; d'you think I want ter steal it from yer?'
+
+'Na, not thet.'
+
+'Well, why won't you tell me?'
+
+'Oh, a thing's sifer when only one person knows where it is.'
+
+This was a very discreet remark, but it set Mrs. Kemp in a whirlwind of
+passion. She raised herself and sat up in the bed, flourishing her
+clenched fist at her daughter.
+
+'I know wot yer mean, you ---- you!' Her language was emphatic, her
+epithets picturesque, but too forcible for reproduction. 'You think
+I'd steal it,' she went on. 'I know yer! D'yer think I'd go an' tike
+yer dirty money?'
+
+'Well, mother,' said Liza, 'when I've told yer before, the money's
+perspired like.'
+
+'Wot d'yer mean?'
+
+'It got less.'
+
+'Well, I can't 'elp thet, can I? Anyone can come in 'ere and tike the
+money.'
+
+'If it's 'idden awy, they can't, can they, mother?' said Liza.
+
+Mrs. Kemp shook her fist.
+
+'You dirty slut, you,' she said, 'yer think I tike yer money! Why, you
+ought ter give it me every week instead of savin' it up and spendin'
+it on all sorts of muck, while I 'ave ter grind my very bones down to
+keep yer.'
+
+'Yer know, mother, if I didn't 'ave a little bit saved up, we should
+be rather short when you're dahn in yer luck.'
+
+Mrs. Kemp's money always ran out on Tuesday, and Liza had to keep
+things going till the following Saturday.
+
+'Oh, don't talk ter me!' proceeded Mrs. Kemp. 'When I was a girl I give
+all my money ter my mother. She never 'ad ter ask me for nothin'. On
+Saturday when I come 'ome with my wiges, I give it 'er every farthin'.
+That's wot a daughter ought ter do. I can say this for myself, I
+be'aved by my mother like a gal should. None of your prodigal sons for
+me! She didn't 'ave ter ask me for three 'apence ter get a drop of
+beer.'
+
+Liza was wise in her generation; she held her tongue, and put on her
+hat.
+
+'Now, you're goin' aht, and leavin' me; I dunno wot you get up to in
+the street with all those men. No good, I'll be bound. An' 'ere am I
+left alone, an' I might die for all you care.'
+
+In her sorrow at herself the old lady began to cry, and Liza slipped
+out of the room and into the street.
+
+Leaning against the wall of the opposite house was Tom; he came
+towards her.
+
+''Ulloa!' she said, as she saw him. 'Wot are you doin' 'ere?'
+
+'I was waitin' for you ter come aht, Liza,' he answered.
+
+She looked at him quickly.
+
+'I ain't comin' aht with yer ter-day, if thet's wot yer mean,' she
+said.
+
+'I never thought of arskin' yer, Liza--after wot you said ter me last
+night.'
+
+His voice was a little sad, and she felt so sorry for him.
+
+'But yer did want ter speak ter me, didn't yer, Tom?' she said, more
+gently.
+
+'You've got a day off ter-morrow, ain't yer?'
+
+'Bank 'Oliday. Yus! Why?'
+
+'Why, 'cause they've got a drag startin' from the "Red Lion" that's
+goin' down ter Chingford for the day--an' I'm goin'.'
+
+'Yus!' she said.
+
+He looked at her doubtfully.
+
+'Will yer come too, Liza? It'll be a regular beeno; there's only goin'
+ter be people in the street. Eh, Liza?'
+
+'Na, I can't.'
+
+'Why not?'
+
+'I ain't got--I ain't got the ooftish.'
+
+'I mean, won't yer come with me?'
+
+'Na, Tom, thank yer; I can't do thet neither.'
+
+'Yer might as well, Liza; it wouldn't 'urt yer.'
+
+'Na, it wouldn't be right like; I can't come aht with yer, and then
+mean nothin'! It would be doin' yer aht of an outing.'
+
+'I don't see why,' he said, very crestfallen.
+
+'I can't go on keepin' company with you--after what I said last night.'
+
+'I shan't enjoy it a bit without you, Liza.'
+
+'You git somebody else, Tom. You'll do withaht me all right.'
+
+She nodded to him, and walked up the street to the house of her friend
+Sally. Having arrived in front of it, she put her hands to her mouth
+in trumpet form, and shouted:
+
+''I! 'I! 'I! Sally!'
+
+A couple of fellows standing by copied her.
+
+''I! 'I! 'I! Sally!'
+
+'Garn!' said Liza, looking round at them.
+
+Sally did not appear and she repeated her call. The men imitated her,
+and half a dozen took it up, so that there was enough noise to wake
+the seven sleepers.
+
+''I! 'I! 'I! Sally!'
+
+A head was put out of a top window, and Liza, taking off her hat,
+waved it, crying:
+
+'Come on dahn, Sally!'
+
+'Arright, old gal!' shouted the other. 'I'm comin'!'
+
+'So's Christmas!' was Liza's repartee.
+
+There was a clatter down the stairs, and Sally, rushing through the
+passage, threw herself on to her friend. They began fooling, in
+reminiscence of a melodrama they had lately seen together.
+
+'Oh, my darlin' duck!' said Liza, kissing her and pressing her, with
+affected rapture, to her bosom.
+
+'My sweetest sweet!' replied Sally, copying her.
+
+'An' 'ow does your lidyship ter-day?'
+
+'Oh!'--with immense languor--'fust class; and is your royal 'ighness
+quite well?'
+
+'I deeply regret,' answered Liza, 'but my royal 'ighness 'as got the
+collywobbles.'
+
+Sally was a small, thin girl, with sandy hair and blue eyes, and a
+very freckled complexion. She had an enormous mouth, with terrible,
+square teeth set wide apart, which looked as if they could masticate
+an iron bar. She was dressed like Liza, in a shortish black skirt and
+an old-fashioned bodice, green and grey and yellow with age; her
+sleeves were tucked up to the elbow, and she wore a singularly dirty
+apron, that had once been white.
+
+'Wot 'ave you got yer 'air in them things for?' asked Liza, pointing
+to the curl-papers. 'Goin' aht with yer young man ter-day?'
+
+'No, I'm going ter stay 'ere all day.'
+
+'Wot for, then?'
+
+'Why, 'Arry's going ter tike me ter Chingford ter-morrer.'
+
+'Oh? In the "Red Lion" brake?'
+
+'Yus. Are you goin'?'
+
+'Na!'
+
+'Not! Well, why don't you get round Tom? 'E'll tike yer, and jolly
+glad 'e'll be, too.'
+
+''E arst me ter go with 'im, but I wouldn't.'
+
+'Swop me bob--why not?'
+
+'I ain't keeping company with 'im.'
+
+'Yer might 'ave gone with 'im all the sime.'
+
+'Na. You're goin' with 'Arry, ain't yer?'
+
+'Yus!'
+
+'An' you're goin' to 'ave 'im?'
+
+'Right again!'
+
+'Well, I couldn't go with Tom, and then throw him over.'
+
+'Well, you are a mug!'
+
+The two girls had strolled down towards the Westminster Bridge Road,
+and Sally, meeting her young man, had gone to him. Liza walked back,
+wishing to get home in time to cook the dinner. But she went slowly,
+for she knew every dweller in the street, and as she passed the groups
+sitting at their doors, as on the previous evening, but this time
+mostly engaged in peeling potatoes or shelling peas, she stopped and
+had a little chat. Everyone liked her, and was glad to have her
+company. 'Good old Liza,' they would say, as she left them, 'she's a
+rare good sort, ain't she?'
+
+She asked after the aches and pains of all the old people, and
+delicately inquired after the babies, past and future; the children
+hung on to her skirts and asked her to play with them, and she would
+hold one end of the rope while tiny little ragged girls skipped,
+invariably entangling themselves after two jumps.
+
+She had nearly reached home, when she heard a voice cry:
+
+'Mornin'!'
+
+She looked round and recognized the man whom Tom had told her was
+called Jim Blakeston. He was sitting on a stool at the door of one of
+the houses, playing with two young children, to whom he was giving
+rides on his knee. She remembered his heavy brown beard from the day
+before, and she had also an impression of great size; she noticed this
+morning that he was, in fact, a big man, tall and broad, and she saw
+besides that he had large, masculine features and pleasant brown eyes.
+She supposed him to be about forty.
+
+'Mornin'!' he said again, as she stopped and looked at him.
+
+'Well, yer needn't look as if I was goin' ter eat yer up, 'cause I
+ain't,' he said.
+
+''Oo are you? I'm not afeard of yer.'
+
+'Wot are yer so bloomin' red abaht?' he asked pointedly.
+
+'Well, I'm 'ot.'
+
+'You ain't shirty 'cause I kissed yer last night?'
+
+'I'm not shirty; but it was pretty cool, considerin' like as I didn't
+know yer.'
+
+'Well, you run into my arms.'
+
+'Thet I didn't; you run aht and caught me.'
+
+'An' kissed yer before you could say "Jack Robinson".' He laughed at
+the thought. 'Well, Liza,' he went on, 'seein' as 'ow I kissed yer
+against yer will, the best thing you can do ter make it up is to kiss
+me not against yer will.'
+
+'Me?' said Liza, looking at him, open-mouthed. 'Well you are a pill!'
+
+The children began to clamour for the riding, which had been
+discontinued on Liza's approach.
+
+'Are them your kids?' she asked.
+
+'Yus; them's two on 'em.'
+
+''Ow many 'ave yer got?'
+
+'Five; the eldest gal's fifteen, and the next one 'oo's a boy's
+twelve, and then there are these two and baby.'
+
+'Well, you've got enough for your money.'
+
+'Too many for me--and more comin'.'
+
+'Ah well,' said Liza, laughing, 'thet's your fault, ain't it?'
+
+Then she bade him good morning, and strolled off.
+
+He watched her as she went, and saw half a dozen little boys surround
+her and beg her to join them in their game of cricket. They caught
+hold of her arms and skirts, and pulled her to their pitch.
+
+'No, I can't,' she said trying to disengage herself. 'I've got the
+dinner ter cook.'
+
+'Dinner ter cook?' shouted one small boy. 'Why, they always cooks the
+cats' meat at the shop.'
+
+'You little so-and-so!' said Liza, somewhat inelegantly, making a dash
+at him.
+
+He dodged her and gave a whoop; then turning he caught her round the
+legs, and another boy catching hold of her round the neck they dragged
+her down, and all three struggled on the ground, rolling over and
+over; the other boys threw themselves on the top, so that there was a
+great heap of legs and arms and heads waving and bobbing up and down.
+
+Liza extricated herself with some difficulty, and taking off her hat
+she began cuffing the boys with it, using all the time the most lively
+expressions. Then, having cleared the field, she retired victorious
+into her own house and began cooking the dinner.
+
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+Bank Holiday was a beautiful day: the cloudless sky threatened a
+stifling heat for noontide, but early in the morning, when Liza got
+out of bed and threw open the window, it was fresh and cool. She
+dressed herself, wondering how she should spend her day; she thought
+of Sally going off to Chingford with her lover, and of herself
+remaining alone in the dull street with half the people away. She
+almost wished it were an ordinary work-day, and that there were no
+such things as bank holidays. And it seemed to be a little like two
+Sundays running, but with the second rather worse than the first. Her
+mother was still sleeping, and she was in no great hurry about getting
+the breakfast, but stood quietly looking out of the window at the
+house opposite.
+
+In a little while she saw Sally coming along. She was arrayed in
+purple and fine linen--a very smart red dress, trimmed with velveteen,
+and a tremendous hat covered with feathers. She had reaped the benefit
+of keeping her hair in curl-papers since Saturday, and her sandy
+fringe stretched from ear to ear. She was in enormous spirits.
+
+''Ulloa, Liza!' she called as soon as she saw her at the window.
+
+Liza looked at her a little enviously.
+
+''Ulloa!' she answered quietly.
+
+'I'm just goin' to the "Red Lion" to meet 'Arry.'
+
+'At what time d'yer start?'
+
+'The brake leaves at 'alf-past eight sharp.'
+
+'Why, it's only eight; it's only just struck at the church. 'Arry
+won't be there yet, will he?'
+
+'Oh, 'e's sure ter be early. I couldn't wite. I've been witin' abaht
+since 'alf-past six. I've been up since five this morning.'
+
+'Since five! What 'ave you been doin'?'
+
+'Dressin' myself and doin' my 'air. I woke up so early. I've been
+dreamin' all the night abaht it. I simply couldn't sleep.'
+
+'Well, you are a caution!' said Liza.
+
+'Bust it, I don't go on the spree every day! Oh, I do 'ope I shall
+enjoy myself.'
+
+'Why, you simply dunno where you are!' said Liza, a little crossly.
+
+'Don't you wish you was comin', Liza?' asked Sally.
+
+'Na! I could if I liked, but I don't want ter.'
+
+'You are a coughdrop--thet's all I can say. Ketch me refusin' when I
+'ave the chanst.'
+
+'Well, it's done now. I ain't got the chanst any more.' Liza said this
+with just a little regret in her voice.
+
+'Come on dahn to the "Red Lion", Liza, and see us off,' said Sally.
+
+'No, I'm damned if I do!' answered Liza, with some warmth.
+
+'You might as well. P'raps 'Arry won't be there, an' you can keep me
+company till 'e comes. An' you can see the 'orses.'
+
+Liza was really very anxious to see the brake and the horses and the
+people going; but she hesitated a little longer. Sally asked her once
+again. Then she said:
+
+'Arright; I'll come with yer, and wite till the bloomin' old thing
+starts.'
+
+She did not trouble to put on a hat, but just walked out as she was,
+and accompanied Sally to the public-house which was getting up the
+expedition.
+
+Although there was still nearly half an hour to wait, the brake was
+drawn up before the main entrance; it was large and long, with seats
+arranged crosswise, so that four people could sit on each; and it was
+drawn by two powerful horses, whose harness the coachman was now
+examining. Sally was not the first on the scene, for already half a
+dozen people had taken their places, but Harry had not yet arrived.
+The two girls stood by the public-door, looking at the preparations.
+Huge baskets full of food were brought out and stowed away; cases of
+beer were hoisted up and put in every possible place--under the seats,
+under the driver's legs, and even beneath the brake. As more people
+came up, Sally began to get excited about Harry's non-appearance.
+
+'I say, I wish 'e'd come!' she said. ''E is lite.'
+
+Then she looked up and down the Westminster Bridge Road to see if he
+was in view.
+
+'Suppose 'e don't turn up! I will give it 'im when 'e comes for
+keepin' me witin' like this.'
+
+'Why, there's a quarter of an hour yet,' said Liza, who saw nothing at
+all to get excited about.
+
+At last Sally saw her lover, and rushed off to meet him. Liza was left
+alone, rather disconsolate at all this bustle and preparation. She was
+not sorry that she had refused Tom's invitation, but she did wish that
+she had conscientiously been able to accept it. Sally and her friend
+came up; attired in his Sunday best, he was a fit match for his
+lady-love--he wore a shirt and collar, unusual luxuries--and be
+carried under his arm a concertina to make things merry on the way.
+
+'Ain't you goin', Liza?' he asked in surprise at seeing her without a
+hat and with her apron on.
+
+'Na,' said Sally, 'ain't she a soft? Tom said 'e'd tike 'er, an' she
+wouldn't.'
+
+'Well, I'm dashed!'
+
+Then they climbed the ladder and took their seats, so that Liza was
+left alone again. More people had come along, and the brake was nearly
+full. Liza knew them all, but they were too busy taking their places
+to talk to her. At last Tom came. He saw her standing there and went
+up to her.
+
+'Won't yer change yer mind, Liza, an' come along with us?'
+
+'Na, Tom, I told yer I wouldn't--it's not right like.' She felt she
+must repeat that to herself often.
+
+'I shan't enjoy it a bit without you,' he said.
+
+'Well, I can't 'elp it!' she answered, somewhat sullenly.
+
+At that moment a man came out of the public-house with a horn in his
+hand; her heart gave a great jump, for if there was anything she
+adored it was to drive along to the tootling of a horn. She really
+felt it was very hard lines that she must stay at home when all these
+people were going to have such a fine time; and they were all so
+merry, and she could picture to herself so well the delights of the
+drive and the picnic. She felt very much inclined to cry. But she
+mustn't go, and she wouldn't go: she repeated that to herself twice as
+the trumpeter gave a preliminary tootle.
+
+Two more people hurried along, and when they came near Liza saw that
+they were Jim Blakeston and a woman whom she supposed to be his wife.
+
+'Are you comin', Liza?' Jim said to her.
+
+'No,' she answered. 'I didn't know you was goin'.'
+
+'I wish you was comin',' he replied, 'we shall 'ave a game.'
+
+She could only just keep back the sobs; she so wished she were going.
+It did seem hard that she must remain behind; and all because she
+wasn't going to marry Tom. After all, she didn't see why that should
+prevent her; there really was no need to refuse for that. She began to
+think she had acted foolishly: it didn't do anyone any good that she
+refused to go out with Tom, and no one thought it anything specially
+fine that she should renounce her pleasure. Sally merely thought her a
+fool.
+
+Tom was standing by her side, silent, and looking disappointed and
+rather unhappy. Jim said to her, in a low voice:
+
+'I am sorry you're not comin'!'
+
+It was too much. She did want to go so badly, and she really couldn't
+resist any longer. If Tom would only ask her once more, and if she
+could only change her mind reasonably and decently, she would accept;
+but he stood silent, and she had to speak herself. It was very
+undignified.
+
+'Yer know, Tom.' she said, 'I don't want ter spoil your day.'
+
+'Well, I don't think I shall go alone; it 'ud be so precious slow.'
+
+Supposing he didn't ask her again! What should she do? She looked up
+at the clock on the front of the pub, and noticed that it only wanted
+five minutes to the half-hour. How terrible it would be if the brake
+started and he didn't ask her! Her heart beat violently against her
+chest, and in her agitation she fumbled with the corner of her apron.
+
+'Well, what can I do, Tom dear?'
+
+'Why, come with me, of course. Oh. Liza, do say yes.'
+
+She had got the offer again, and it only wanted a little seemly
+hesitation, and the thing was done.
+
+'I should like ter, Tom,' she said. 'But d'you think it 'ud be
+arright?'
+
+'Yus, of course it would. Come on, Liza!' In his eagerness he clasped
+her hand.
+
+'Well,' she remarked, looking down, 'if it'd spoil your 'oliday--.'
+
+'I won't go if you don't--swop me bob, I won't!' he answered.
+
+'Well, if I come, it won't mean that I'm keepin' company with you.'
+
+'Na, it won't mean anythin' you don't like.'
+
+'Arright!' she said.
+
+'You'll come?' he could hardly believe her.
+
+'Yus!' she answered, smiling all over her face.
+
+'You're a good sort, Liza! I say, 'Arry, Liza's comin'!' he shouted.
+
+'Liza? 'Oorray!' shouted Harry.
+
+''S'at right, Liza?' called Sally.
+
+And Liza feeling quite joyful and light of heart called back:
+
+'Yus!'
+
+''Oorray!' shouted Sally in answer.
+
+'Thet's right, Liza,' called Jim; and he smiled pleasantly as she
+looked at him.
+
+'There's just room for you two 'ere,' said Harry, pointing to the
+vacant places by his side.
+
+'Arright!' said Tom.
+
+'I must jest go an' get a 'at an' tell mother,' said Liza.
+
+'There's just three minutes. Be quick!' answered Tom, and as she
+scampered off as hard as she could go, he shouted to the coachman:
+''Old 'ard; there' another passenger comin' in a minute.'
+
+'Arright, old cock,' answered the coachman: 'no 'urry!'
+
+Liza rushed into the room, and called to her mother, who was still
+asleep:
+
+'Mother! mother! I'm going to Chingford!'
+
+Then tearing off her old dress she slipped into her gorgeous violet
+one; she kicked off her old ragged shoes and put on her new boots. She
+brushed her hair down and rapidly gave her fringe a twirl and a
+twist--it was luckily still moderately in curl from the previous
+Saturday--and putting on her black hat with all the feathers, she
+rushed along the street, and scrambling up the brake steps fell
+panting on Tom's lap.
+
+The coachman cracked his whip, the trumpeter tootled his horn, and
+with a cry and a cheer from the occupants, the brake clattered down
+the road.
+
+
+
+
+5
+
+
+As soon as Liza had recovered herself she started examining the people
+on the brake; and first of all she took stock of the woman whom Jim
+Blakeston had with him.
+
+'This is my missus!' said Jim, pointing to her with his thumb.
+
+'You ain't been dahn in the street much, 'ave yer?' said Liza, by way
+of making the acquaintance.
+
+'Na,' answered Mrs. Blakeston, 'my youngster's been dahn with the
+measles, an' I've 'ad my work cut out lookin' after 'im.'
+
+'Oh, an' is 'e all right now?'
+
+'Yus, 'e's gettin' on fine, an' Jim wanted ter go ter Chingford
+ter-day, an' 'e says ter me, well, 'e says, "You come along ter
+Chingford, too; it'll do you good." An' 'e says, "You can leave
+Polly"--she's my eldest, yer know--"you can leave Polly," says 'e,
+"ter look after the kids." So I says, "Well, I don't mind if I do,"
+says I.'
+
+Meanwhile Liza was looking at her. First she noticed her dress: she
+wore a black cloak and a funny, old-fashioned black bonnet; then
+examining the woman herself, she saw a middle-sized, stout person
+anywhere between thirty and forty years old. She had a large, fat face
+with a big mouth, and her hair was curiously done, parted in the
+middle and plastered down on each side of the head in little plaits.
+One could see that she was a woman of great strength, notwithstanding
+evident traces of hard work and much child-bearing.
+
+Liza knew all the other passengers, and now that everyone was settled
+down and had got over the excitement of departure, they had time to
+greet one another. They were delighted to have Liza among them, for
+where she was there was no dullness. Her attention was first of all
+taken up by a young coster who had arrayed himself in the traditional
+costume--grey suit, tight trousers, and shiny buttons in profusion.
+
+'Wot cheer, Bill!' she cried to him.
+
+'Wot cheer, Liza!' he answered.
+
+'You are got up dossy, you'll knock 'em.'
+
+'Na then, Liza Kemp,' said his companion, turning round with mock
+indignation, 'you let my Johnny alone. If you come gettin' round 'im
+I'll give you wot for.'
+
+'Arright, Clary Sharp, I don't want 'im,' answered Liza. 'I've got one
+of my own, an' thet's a good 'andful--ain't it, Tom?'
+
+Tom was delighted, and, unable to find a repartee, in his pleasure
+gave Liza a great nudge with his elbow.
+
+''Oo, I say,' said Liza, putting her hand to her side. 'Tike care of
+my ribs; you'll brike 'em.'
+
+'Them's not yer ribs,' shouted a candid friend--'them's yer
+whale-bones yer afraid of breakin'.'
+
+'Garn!'
+
+''Ave yer got whale-bones?' said Tom, with affected simplicity,
+putting his arm round her waist to feel.
+
+'Na, then,' she said, 'keep off the grass!'
+
+'Well, I only wanted ter know if you'd got any.'
+
+'Garn; yer don't git round me like thet.'
+
+He still kept as he was.
+
+'Na then,' she repeated, 'tike yer 'and away. If yer touch me there
+you'll 'ave ter marry me.'
+
+'Thet's just wot I wants ter do, Liza!'
+
+'Shut it!' she answered cruelly, and drew his arm away from her waist.
+
+The horses scampered on, and the man behind blew his horn with vigour.
+
+'Don't bust yerself, guv'nor!' said one of the passengers to him when
+he made a particularly discordant sound. They drove along eastwards,
+and as the hour grew later the streets became more filled and the
+traffic greater. At last they got on the road to Chingford, and caught
+up numbers of other vehicles going in the same direction--donkey-shays,
+pony-carts, tradesmen's carts, dog-carts, drags, brakes, every
+conceivable kind of wheel thing, all filled with people, the
+wretched donkey dragging along four solid rate-payers to the pair
+of stout horses easily managing a couple of score. They exchanged
+cheers and greetings as they passed, the 'Red Lion' brake being
+noticeable above all for its uproariousness. As the day wore on
+the sun became hotter, and the road seemed more dusty and threw up a
+greater heat.
+
+'I am getting 'ot!' was the common cry, and everyone began to puff and
+sweat.
+
+The ladies removed their cloaks and capes, and the men, following
+their example, took off their coats and sat in their shirt-sleeves.
+Whereupon ensued much banter of a not particularly edifying kind
+respecting the garments which each person would like to remove--which
+showed that the innuendo of French farce is not so unknown to the
+upright, honest Englishman as might be supposed.
+
+At last came in sight the half-way house, where the horses were to
+have a rest and a sponge down. They had been talking of it for the
+last quarter of a mile, and when at length it was observed on the top
+of a hill a cheer broke out, and some thirsty wag began to sing 'Rule
+Britannia', whilst others burst forth with a different national ditty,
+'Beer, Glorious Beer!' They drew up before the pub entrance, and all
+climbed down as quickly as they could. The bar was besieged, and
+potmen and barmaids were quickly busy drawing beer and handing it over
+to the eager folk outside.
+
+THE IDYLL OF CORYDON AND PHYLLIS.
+
+Gallantry ordered that the faithful swain and the amorous shepherdess
+should drink out of one and the same pot.
+
+''Urry up an' 'ave your whack,' said Corydon, politely handing the
+foaming bowl for his fair one to drink from.
+
+Phyllis, without replying, raised it to her lips and drank deep. The
+swain watched anxiously.
+
+''Ere, give us a chanst!' he said, as the pot was raised higher and
+higher and its contents appeared to be getting less and less.
+
+At this the amorous shepherdess stopped and handed the pot to her
+lover.
+
+'Well, I'm dashed!' said Corydon, looking into it; and added: 'I guess
+you know a thing or two.' Then with courtly grace putting his own lips
+to the place where had been those of his beloved, finished the pint.
+
+'Go' lumme!' remarked the shepherdess, smacking her lips, 'that was
+somethin' like!' And she put out her tongue and licked her lips, and
+then breathed deeply.
+
+The faithful swain having finished, gave a long sigh, and said:
+
+'Well, I could do with some more!'
+
+'For the matter of thet, I could do with a gargle!'
+
+Thus encouraged, the gallant returned to the bar, and soon brought out
+a second pint.
+
+'You 'ave fust pop,' amorously remarked Phyllis, and he took a long
+drink and handed the pot to her.
+
+She, with maiden modesty, turned it so as to have a different part to
+drink from; but he remarked as he saw her:
+
+'You are bloomin' particular.'
+
+Then, unwilling to grieve him, she turned it back again and applied
+her ruby lips to the place where his had been.
+
+'Now we shan't be long!' she remarked, as she handed him back the pot.
+
+The faithful swain took out of his pocket a short clay pipe, blew
+through it, filled it, and began to smoke, while Phyllis sighed at the
+thought of the cool liquid gliding down her throat, and with the
+pleasing recollection gently stroked her stomach. Then Corydon spat,
+and immediately his love said:
+
+'I can spit farther than thet.'
+
+'I bet yer yer can't.'
+
+She tried, and did. He collected himself and spat again, further than
+before, she followed him, and in this idyllic contest they remained
+till the tootling horn warned them to take their places.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At last they reached Chingford, and here the horses were taken out and
+the drag, on which they were to lunch, drawn up in a sheltered spot.
+They were all rather hungry, but as it was not yet feeding-time, they
+scattered to have drinks meanwhile. Liza and Tom, with Sally and her
+young man, went off together to the nearest public-house, and as they
+drank beer, Harry, who was a great sportsman, gave them a graphic
+account of a prize-fight he had seen on the previous Saturday evening,
+which had been rendered specially memorable by one man being so hurt
+that he had died from the effects. It had evidently been a very fine
+affair, and Harry said that several swells from the West End had been
+present, and he related their ludicrous efforts to get in without
+being seen by anyone, and their terror when someone to frighten them
+called out 'Copper!' Then Tom and he entered into a discussion on the
+subject of boxing, in which Tom, being a shy and undogmatic sort of
+person, was entirely worsted. After this they strolled back to the
+brake, and found things being prepared for luncheon; the hampers were
+brought out and emptied, and the bottles of beer in great profusion
+made many a thirsty mouth thirstier.
+
+'Come along, lidies an' gentlemen--if you are gentlemen,' shouted the
+coachman; 'the animals is now goin' ter be fed!'
+
+'Garn awy,' answered somebody, 'we're not hanimals; we don't drink
+water.'
+
+'You're too clever,' remarked the coachman; 'I can see you've just
+come from the board school.'
+
+As the former speaker was a lady of quite mature appearance, the
+remark was not without its little irony. The other man blew his horn
+by way of grace, at which Liza called out to him:
+
+'Don't do thet, you'll bust, I know you will, an' if you bust you'll
+quite spoil my dinner!'
+
+Then they all set to. Pork-pies, saveloys, sausages, cold potatoes,
+hard-boiled eggs, cold bacon, veal, ham, crabs and shrimps, cheese,
+butter, cold suet-puddings and treacle, gooseberry-tarts,
+cherry-tarts, butter, bread, more sausages, and yet again pork-pies!
+They devoured the provisions like ravening beasts, stolidly, silently,
+earnestly, in large mouthfuls which they shoved down their throats
+unmasticated. The intelligent foreigner seeing them thus dispose of
+their food would have understood why England is a great nation. He
+would have understood why Britons never, never will be slaves. They
+never stopped except to drink, and then at each gulp they emptied
+their glass; no heel-taps! And still they ate, and still they
+drank--but as all things must cease, they stopped at last, and a long
+sigh of content broke from their two-and-thirty throats.
+
+Then the gathering broke up, and the good folk paired themselves and
+separated. Harry and his lady strolled off to secluded byways in the
+forest, so that they might discourse of their loves and digest their
+dinner. Tom had all the morning been waiting for this happy moment; he
+had counted on the expansive effect of a full stomach to thaw his
+Liza's coldness, and he had pictured himself sitting on the grass with
+his back against the trunk of a spreading chestnut-tree, with his arm
+round his Liza's waist, and her head resting affectionately on his
+manly bosom. Liza, too, had foreseen the separation into couples after
+dinner, and had been racking her brains to find a means of getting out
+of it.
+
+'I don't want 'im slobberin' abaht me,' she said; 'it gives me the
+sick, all this kissin' an' cuddlin'!'
+
+She scarcely knew why she objected to his caresses; but they bored her
+and made her cross. But luckily the blessed institution of marriage
+came to her rescue, for Jim and his wife naturally had no particular
+desire to spend the afternoon together, and Liza, seeing a little
+embarrassment on their part, proposed that they should go for a walk
+together in the forest.
+
+Jim agreed at once, and with pleasure, but Tom was dreadfully
+disappointed. He hadn't the courage to say anything, but he glared at
+Blakeston. Jim smiled benignly at him, and Tom began to sulk. Then
+they began a funny walk through the woods. Jim tried to go on with
+Liza, and Liza was not at all disinclined to this, for she had come to
+the conclusion that Jim, notwithstanding his 'cheek', was not ''alf a
+bad sort'. But Tom kept walking alongside of them, and as Jim slightly
+quickened his pace so as to get Liza on in front, Tom quickened his,
+and Mrs. Blakeston, who didn't want to be left behind, had to break
+into a little trot to keep up with them. Jim tried also to get Liza
+all to himself in the conversation, and let Tom see that he was out in
+the cold, but Tom would break in with cross, sulky remarks, just to
+make the others uncomfortable. Liza at last got rather vexed with him.
+
+'Strikes me you got aht of bed the wrong way this mornin',' she said
+to him.
+
+'Yer didn't think thet when yer said you'd come aht with me.' He
+emphasized the 'me'.
+
+Liza shrugged her shoulders.
+
+'You give me the 'ump,' she said. 'If yer wants ter mike a fool of
+yerself, you can go elsewhere an' do it.'
+
+'I suppose yer want me ter go awy now,' he said angrily.
+
+'I didn't say I did.'
+
+'Arright, Liza, I won't stay where I'm not wanted.' And turning on
+his heel he marched off, striking through the underwood into the midst
+of the forest.
+
+He felt extremely unhappy as he wandered on, and there was a choky
+feeling in his throat as he thought of Liza: she was very unkind and
+ungrateful, and he wished he had never come to Chingford. She might so
+easily have come for a walk with him instead of going with that beast
+of a Blakeston; she wouldn't ever do anything for him, and he hated
+her--but all the same, he was a poor foolish thing in love, and he
+began to feel that perhaps he had been a little exacting and a little
+forward to take offence. And then he wished he had never said
+anything, and he wanted so much to see her and make it up. He made his
+way back to Chingford, hoping she would not make him wait too long.
+
+Liza was a little surprised when Tom turned and left them.
+
+'Wot 'as 'e got the needle abaht?' she said.
+
+'Why, 'e's jealous,' answered Jim, with a laugh.
+
+'Tom jealous?'
+
+'Yus; 'e's jealous of me.'
+
+'Well, 'e ain't got no cause ter be jealous of anyone--that 'e ain't!'
+said Liza, and continued by telling him all about Tom: how he had
+wanted to marry her and she wouldn't have him, and how she had only
+agreed to come to Chingford with him on the understanding that she
+should preserve her entire freedom. Jim listened sympathetically, but
+his wife paid no attention; she was doubtless engaged in thought
+respecting her household or her family.
+
+When they got back to Chingford they saw Tom standing in solitude
+looking at them. Liza was struck by the woebegone expression on his
+face; she felt she had been cruel to him, and leaving the Blakestons
+went up to him.
+
+'I say, Tom,' she said, 'don't tike on so; I didn't mean it.'
+
+He was bursting to apologize for his behaviour.
+
+'Yer know, Tom,' she went on, 'I'm rather 'asty, an' I'm sorry I said
+wot I did.'
+
+'Oh, Liza, you are good! You ain't cross with me?'
+
+'Me? Na; it's you thet oughter be cross.'
+
+'You are a good sort, Liza!'
+
+'You ain't vexed with me?'
+
+'Give me Liza every time; that's wot I say,' he answered, as his face
+lit up. 'Come along an' 'ave tea, an' then we'll go for a
+donkey-ride.'
+
+The donkey-ride was a great success. Liza was a little afraid at
+first, so Tom walked by her side to take care of her, she screamed the
+moment the beast began to trot, and clutched hold of Tom to save
+herself from falling, and as he felt her hand on his shoulder, and
+heard her appealing cry: 'Oh, do 'old me! I'm fallin'!' he felt that
+he had never in his life been so deliciously happy. The whole party
+joined in, and it was proposed that they should have races; but in the
+first heat, when the donkeys broke into a canter, Liza fell off into
+Tom's arms and the donkeys scampered on without her.
+
+'I know wot I'll do,' she said, when the runaway had been recovered.
+'I'll ride 'im straddlewyse.'
+
+'Garn!' said Sally, 'yer can't with petticoats.'
+
+'Yus, I can, an' I will too!'
+
+So another donkey was procured, this time with a man's saddle, and
+putting her foot in the stirrup, she cocked her leg over and took her
+seat triumphantly. Neither modesty nor bashfulness was to be reckoned
+among Liza's faults, and in this position she felt quite at ease.
+
+'I'll git along arright now, Tom,' she said; 'you garn and
+git yerself a moke, and come an' jine in.'
+
+The next race was perfectly uproarious. Liza kicked and beat her
+donkey with all her might, shrieking and laughing the white, and
+finally came in winner by a length. After that they felt rather warm
+and dry, and repaired to the public-house to restore themselves and
+talk over the excitements of the racecourse.
+
+When they had drunk several pints of beer Liza and Sally, with their
+respective adorers and the Blakestons, walked round to find other
+means of amusing themselves; they were arrested by a coconut-shy.
+
+'Oh, let's 'ave a shy!' said Liza, excitedly, at which the unlucky men
+had to pull out their coppers, while Sally and Liza made ludicrously
+bad shots at the coconuts.
+
+'It looks so bloomin' easy,' said Liza, brushing up her hair, 'but I
+can't 'it the blasted thing. You 'ave a shot, Tom.'
+
+He and Harry were equally unskilful, but Jim got three coconuts
+running, and the proprietors of the show began to look on him with
+some concern.
+
+'You are a dab at it,' said Liza, in admiration.
+
+They tried to induce Mrs. Blakeston to try her luck, but she stoutly
+refused.
+
+'I don't old with such foolishness. It's wiste of money ter me,' she
+said.
+
+'Na then, don't crack on, old tart,' remarked her husband, 'let's go
+an' eat the coconuts.'
+
+There was one for each couple, and after the ladies had sucked the
+juice they divided them and added their respective shares to their
+dinners and teas. Supper came next. Again they fell to sausage-rolls,
+boiled eggs, and saveloys, and countless bottles of beer were added to
+those already drunk.
+
+'I dunno 'ow many bottles of beer I've drunk--I've lost count,' said
+Liza; whereat there was a general laugh.
+
+They still had an hour before the brake was to start back, and it was
+then the concertinas came in useful. They sat down on the grass, and
+the concert was begun by Harry, who played a solo; then there was a
+call for a song, and Jim stood up and sang that ancient ditty, 'O dem
+Golden Kippers, O'. There was no shyness in the company, and Liza,
+almost without being asked, gave another popular comic song. Then
+there was more concertina playing, and another demand for a song. Liza
+turned to Tom, who was sitting quietly by her side.
+
+'Give us a song, old cock,' she said.
+
+'I can't,' he answered. 'I'm not a singin' sort.' At which Blakeston
+got up and offered to sing again.
+
+'Tom is rather a soft,' said Liza to herself, 'not like that cove
+Blakeston.'
+
+They repaired to the public-house to have a few last drinks before the
+brake started, and when the horn blew to warn them, rather unsteadily,
+they proceeded to take their places.
+
+Liza, as she scrambled up the steps, said: 'Well, I believe I'm
+boozed.'
+
+The coachman had arrived at the melancholy stage of intoxication, and
+was sitting on his box holding his reins, with his head bent on his
+chest. He was thinking sadly of the long-lost days of his youth, and
+wishing he had been a better man.
+
+Liza had no respect for such holy emotions, and she brought down her
+fist on the crown of his hat, and bashed it over his eyes.
+
+'Na then, old jellybelly,' she said, 'wot's the good of 'avin' a fice
+as long as a kite?'
+
+He turned round and smote her.
+
+'Jellybelly yerself!' said he.
+
+'Puddin' fice!' she cried.
+
+'Kite fice!'
+
+'Boss eye!'
+
+She was tremendously excited, laughing and singing, keeping the whole
+company in an uproar. In her jollity she had changed hats with Tom,
+and he in her big feathers made her shriek with laughter. When they
+started they began to sing 'For 'e's a jolly good feller', making the
+night resound with their noisy voices.
+
+Liza and Tom and the Blakestons had got a seat together, Liza being
+between the two men. Tom was perfectly happy, and only wished that
+they might go on so for ever. Gradually as they drove along they
+became quieter, their singing ceased, and they talked in undertones.
+Some of them slept; Sally and her young man were leaning up against
+one another, slumbering quite peacefully. The night was beautiful, the
+sky still blue, very dark, scattered over with countless brilliant
+stars, and Liza, as she looked up at the heavens, felt a certain
+emotion, as if she wished to be taken in someone's arms, or feel some
+strong man's caress; and there was in her heart a strange sensation as
+though it were growing big. She stopped speaking, and all four were
+silent. Then slowly she felt Tom's arm steal round her waist,
+cautiously, as though it were afraid of being there; this time both
+she and Tom were happy. But suddenly there was a movement on the other
+side of her, a hand was advanced along her leg, and her hand was
+grasped and gently pressed. It was Jim Blakeston. She started a little
+and began trembling so that Tom noticed it, and whispered:
+
+'You're cold, Liza.'
+
+'Na, I'm not, Tom; it's only a sort of shiver thet went through me.'
+
+His arm gave her waist a squeeze, and at the same time the big rough
+hand pressed her little one. And so she sat between them till they
+reached the 'Red Lion' in the Westminster Bridge Road, and Tom said to
+himself: 'I believe she does care for me after all.'
+
+When they got down they all said good night, and Sally and Liza, with
+their respective slaves and the Blakestons, marched off homewards. At
+the corner of Vere Street Harry said to Tom and Blakeston:
+
+'I say, you blokes, let's go an' 'ave another drink before closin'
+time.'
+
+'I don't mind,' said Tom, 'after we've took the gals 'ome.'
+
+'Then we shan't 'ave time, it's just on closin' time now.' answered
+Harry.
+
+'Well, we can't leave 'em 'ere.'
+
+'Yus, you can,' said Sally. 'No one'll run awy with us.'
+
+Tom did not want to part from Liza, but she broke in with:
+
+'Yus, go on, Tom. Sally an' me'll git along arright, an' you ain't got
+too much time.'
+
+'Yus, good night, 'Arry,' said Sally to settle the matter.
+
+'Good night, old gal,' he answered, 'give us another slobber.'
+
+And she, not at all unwilling, surrendered herself to him, while he
+imprinted two sounding kisses on her cheeks.
+
+'Good night, Tom,' said Liza, holding out her hand.
+
+'Good night, Liza,' he answered, taking it, but looking very wistfully
+at her.
+
+She understood, and with a kindly smile lifted up her face to him. He
+bent down and, taking her in his arms, kissed her passionately.
+
+'You do kiss nice, Liza,' he said, making the others laugh.
+
+'Thanks for tikin' me aht, old man,' she said as they parted.
+
+'Arright, Liza,' he answered, and added, almost to himself: 'God bless
+yer!'
+
+''Ulloa, Blakeston, ain't you comin'?' said Harry, seeing that Jim was
+walking off with his wife instead of joining him and Tom.
+
+'Na,' he answered, 'I'm goin' 'ome. I've got ter be up at five
+ter-morrer.'
+
+'You are a chap!' said Harry, disgustedly, strolling off with Tom to
+the pub, while the others made their way down the sleeping street.
+
+The house where Sally lived came first, and she left them; then,
+walking a few yards more, they came to the Blakestons', and after a
+little talk at the door Liza bade the couple good night, and was left
+to walk the rest of the way home. The street was perfectly silent, and
+the lamp-posts, far apart, threw a dim light which only served to make
+Lisa realize her solitude. There was such a difference between the
+street at midday, with its swarms of people, and now, when there was
+neither sound nor soul besides herself, that even she was struck by
+it. The regular line of houses on either side, with the even pavements
+and straight, cemented road, seemed to her like some desert place, as
+if everyone were dead, or a fire had raged and left it all desolate.
+Suddenly she heard a footstep, she started and looked back. It was a
+man hurrying behind her, and in a moment she had recognized Jim. He
+beckoned to her, and in a low voice called:
+
+'Liza!'
+
+She stopped till he had come up to her.
+
+'Wot 'ave yer come aht again for?' she said.
+
+'I've come aht ter say good night to you, Liza,' he answered.
+
+'But yer said good night a moment ago.'
+
+'I wanted to say it again--properly.'
+
+'Where's yer missus?'
+
+'Oh, she's gone in. I said I was dry and was goin' ter 'ave a drink
+after all.'
+
+'But she'll know yer didn't go ter the pub.'
+
+'Na, she won't, she's gone straight upstairs to see after the kid. I
+wanted ter see yer alone, Liza.'
+
+'Why?'
+
+He didn't answer, but tried to take hold of her hand. She drew it away
+quickly. They walked in silence till they came to Liza's house.
+
+'Good night,' said Liza.
+
+'Won't you come for a little walk, Liza?'
+
+'Tike care no one 'ears you,' she added, in a whisper, though why she
+whispered she did not know.
+
+'Will yer?' he asked again.
+
+'Na--you've got to get up at five.'
+
+'Oh, I only said thet not ter go inter the pub with them.'
+
+'So as yer might come 'ere with me?' asked Liza.
+
+'Yus!'
+
+'No, I'm not comin'. Good night.'
+
+'Well, say good night nicely.'
+
+'Wot d'yer mean?'
+
+'Tom said you did kiss nice.'
+
+She looked at him without speaking, and in a moment he had clasped his
+arms round her, almost lifting her off her feet, and kissed her. She
+turned her face away.
+
+'Give us yer lips, Liza,' he whispered--'give us yer lips.'
+
+He turned her face without resistance and kissed her on the mouth.
+
+At last she tore herself from him, and opening the door slid away into
+the house.
+
+
+
+
+6
+
+
+Next morning on her way to the factory Liza came up with Sally. They
+were both of them rather stale and bedraggled after the day's outing;
+their fringes were ragged and untidily straying over their foreheads,
+their back hair, carelessly tied in a loose knot, fell over their
+necks and threatened completely to come down. Liza had not had time to
+put her hat on, and was holding it in her hand. Sally's was pinned on
+sideways, and she had to bash it down on her head every now and then
+to prevent its coming off. Cinderella herself was not more transformed
+than they were; but Cinderella even in her rags was virtuously tidy
+and patched up, while Sally had a great tear in her shabby dress, and
+Liza's stockings were falling over her boots.
+
+'Wot cheer, Sal!' said Liza, when she caught her up.
+
+'Oh, I 'ave got sich a 'ead on me this mornin'!' she remarked, turning
+round a pale face: heavily lined under the eyes.
+
+'I don't feel too chirpy neither,' said Liza, sympathetically.
+
+'I wish I 'adn't drunk so much beer,' added Sally, as a pang shot
+through her head.
+
+'Oh, you'll be arright in a bit,' said Liza. Just then they heard the
+clock strike eight, and they began to run so that they might not miss
+getting their tokens and thereby their day's pay; they turned into the
+street at the end of which was the factory, and saw half a hundred
+women running like themselves to get in before it was too late.
+
+All the morning Liza worked in a dead-and-alive sort of fashion, her
+head like a piece of lead with electric shocks going through it when
+she moved, and her tongue and mouth hot and dry. At last lunch-time
+came.
+
+'Come on, Sal,' said Liza, 'I'm goin' to 'ave a glass o' bitter. I
+can't stand this no longer.'
+
+So they entered the public-house opposite, and in one draught finished
+their pots. Liza gave a long sigh of relief.
+
+'That bucks you up, don't it?'
+
+'I was dry! I ain't told yer yet, Liza, 'ave I? 'E got it aht last
+night.'
+
+'Who d'yer mean?'
+
+'Why, 'Arry. 'E spit it aht at last.'
+
+'Arst yer ter nime the day?' said Liza, smiling.
+
+'Thet's it.'
+
+'And did yer?'
+
+'Didn't I jest!' answered Sally, with some emphasis. 'I always told
+yer I'd git off before you.'
+
+'Yus!' said Liza, thinking.
+
+'Yer know, Liza, you'd better tike Tom; 'e ain't a bad sort.' She was
+quite patronizing.
+
+'I'm goin' ter tike 'oo I like; an' it ain't nobody's business but
+mine.'
+
+'Arright, Liza, don't get shirty over it; I don't mean no offence.'
+
+'What d'yer say it for then?'
+
+'Well, I thought as seeing as yer'd gone aht with 'im yesterday thet
+yer meant ter after all.'
+
+''E wanted ter tike me; I didn't arsk 'im.'
+
+'Well, I didn't arsk my 'Arry, either.'
+
+'I never said yer did,' replied Liza.
+
+'Oh, you've got the 'ump, you 'ave!' finished Sally, rather angrily.
+
+The beer had restored Liza: she went back to work without a headache,
+and, except for a slight languor, feeling no worse for the previous
+day's debauch. As she worked on she began going over in her mind the
+events of the preceding day, and she found entwined in all her
+thoughts the burly person of Jim Blakeston. She saw him walking by her
+side in the Forest, presiding over the meals, playing the concertina,
+singing, joking, and finally, on the drive back, she felt the heavy
+form by her side, and the big, rough hand holding hers, while Tom's
+arm was round her waist. Tom! That was the first time he had entered
+her mind, and he sank into a shadow beside the other. Last of all she
+remembered the walk home from the pub, the good nights, and the rapid
+footsteps as Jim caught her up, and the kiss. She blushed and looked
+up quickly to see whether any of the girls were looking at her; she
+could not help thinking of that moment when he took her in his arms;
+she still felt the roughness of his beard pressing on her mouth. Her
+heart seemed to grow larger in her breast, and she caught for breath
+as she threw back her head as if to receive his lips again. A shudder
+ran through her from the vividness of the thought.
+
+'Wot are you shiverin' for, Liza?' asked one of the girls. 'You ain't
+cold.'
+
+'Not much,' answered Liza, blushing awkwardly on her meditations being
+broken into. 'Why, I'm sweatin' so--I'm drippin' wet.'
+
+'I expect yer caught cold in the Faurest yesterday.'
+
+'I see your mash as I was comin' along this mornin'.'
+
+Liza stared a little.
+
+'I ain't got one, 'oo d'yer mean, ay?'
+
+'Yer only Tom, of course. 'E did look washed aht. Wot was yer doin'
+with 'im yesterday?'
+
+''E ain't got nothin' ter do with me, 'e ain't.'
+
+'Garn, don't you tell me!'
+
+The bell rang, and, throwing over their work, the girls trooped off,
+and after chattering in groups outside the factory gates for a while,
+made their way in different directions to their respective homes. Liza
+and Sally went along together.
+
+'I sy, we are comin' aht!' cried Sally, seeing the advertisement of a
+play being acted at the neighbouring theatre.
+
+'I should like ter see thet!' said Liza, as they stood arm-in-arm in
+front of the flaring poster. It represented two rooms and a passage in
+between; in one room a dead man was lying on the floor, while two
+others were standing horror-stricken, listening to a youth who was in
+the passage, knocking at the door.
+
+'You see, they've 'killed im,' said Sally, excitedly.
+
+'Yus, any fool can see thet! an' the one ahtside, wot's 'e doin' of?'
+
+'Ain't 'e beautiful? I'll git my 'Arry ter tike me, I will. I should
+like ter see it. 'E said 'e'd tike me to the ply.'
+
+They strolled on again, and Liza, leaving Sally, made her way to her
+mother's. She knew she must pass Jim's house, and wondered whether she
+would see him. But as she walked along the street she saw Tom coming
+the opposite way; with a sudden impulse she turned back so as not to
+meet him, and began walking the way she had come. Then thinking
+herself a fool for what she had done, she turned again and walked
+towards him. She wondered if she had seen her or noticed her movement,
+but when she looked down the street he was nowhere to be seen; he had
+not caught sight of her, and had evidently gone in to see a mate in
+one or other of the houses. She quickened her step, and passing the
+house where lived Jim, could not help looking up; he was standing at
+the door watching her, with a smile on his lips.
+
+'I didn't see yer, Mr. Blakeston,' she said, as he came up to her.
+
+'Didn't yer? Well, I knew yer would; an' I was witin' for yer ter look
+up. I see yer before ter-day.'
+
+'Na, when?'
+
+'I passed be'ind yer as you an' thet other girl was lookin' at the
+advertisement of thet ply.'
+
+'I never see yer.'
+
+'Na, I know yer didn't. I 'ear yer say, you says: "I should like to
+see thet."'
+
+'Yus, an' I should too.'
+
+'Well, I'll tike yer.'
+
+'You?'
+
+'Yus; why not?'
+
+'I like thet; wot would yer missus sy?'
+
+'She wouldn't know.'
+
+'But the neighbours would!'
+
+'No they wouldn't, no one 'd see us.'
+
+He was speaking in a low voice so that people could not hear.
+
+'You could meet me ahtside the theatre,' he went on.
+
+'Na, I couldn't go with you; you're a married man.'
+
+'Garn! wot's the matter--jest ter go ter the ply? An' besides, my
+missus can't come if she wanted, she's got the kids ter look after.'
+
+'I should like ter see it,' said Liza meditatively.
+
+They had reached her house, and Jim said:
+
+'Well, come aht this evenin' and tell me if yer will--eh, Liza?'
+
+'Na, I'm not comin' aht this evening.'
+
+'Thet won't 'urt yer. I shall wite for yer.'
+
+''Tain't a bit of good your witing', 'cause I shan't come.'
+
+'Well, then, look 'ere, Liza; next Saturday night's the last night,
+an' I shall go to the theatre, any'ow. An' if you'll come, you just
+come to the door at 'alf-past six, an' you'll find me there. See?'
+
+'Na, I don't,' said Liza, firmly.
+
+'Well, I shall expect yer.'
+
+'I shan't come, so you needn't expect.' And with that she walked into
+the house and slammed the door behind her.
+
+Her mother had not come in from her day's charing, and Liza set about
+getting her tea. She thought it would be rather lonely eating it
+alone, so pouring out a cup of tea and putting a little condensed milk
+into it, she cut a huge piece of bread-and-butter, and sat herself
+down outside on the doorstep. Another woman came downstairs, and
+seeing Liza, sat down by her side and began to talk.
+
+'Why, Mrs. Stanley, wot 'ave yer done to your 'ead?' asked Liza,
+noticing a bandage round her forehead.
+
+'I 'ad an accident last night,' answered the woman, blushing uneasily.
+
+'Oh, I am sorry! Wot did yer do to yerself?'
+
+'I fell against the coal-scuttle and cut my 'ead open.'
+
+'Well, I never!'
+
+'To tell yer the truth, I 'ad a few words with my old man. But one
+doesn't like them things to get abaht; yer won't tell anyone, will
+yer?'
+
+'Not me!' answered Liza. 'I didn't know yer husband was like thet.'
+
+'Oh, 'e's as gentle as a lamb when 'e's sober,' said Mrs. Stanley,
+apologetically. 'But, Lor' bless yer, when 'e's 'ad a drop too much
+'e's a demond, an' there's no two ways abaht it.'
+
+'An' you ain't been married long neither?' said Liza.
+
+'Na, not above eighteen months; ain't it disgriceful? Thet's wot the
+doctor at the 'orspital says ter me. I 'ad ter go ter the 'orspital.
+You should have seen 'ow it bled!--it bled all dahn' my fice, and went
+streamin' like a bust waterpipe. Well, it fair frightened my old man,
+an' I says ter 'im, "I'll charge yer," an' although I was bleedin'
+like a bloomin' pig I shook my fist at 'im, an' I says, "I'll charge
+ye--see if I don't!" An' 'e says, "Na," says 'e, "don't do thet, for
+God's sike, Kitie, I'll git three months." "An' serve yer damn well
+right!" says I, an' I went aht an' left 'im. But, Lor' bless yer, I
+wouldn't charge 'im! I know 'e don't mean it; 'e's as gentle as a lamb
+when 'e's sober.' She smiled quite affectionately as she said this.
+
+'Wot did yer do, then?' asked Liza.
+
+'Well, as I wos tellin' yer, I went to the 'orspital, an' the doctor
+'e says to me, "My good woman," says 'e, "you might have been very
+seriously injured." An' me not been married eighteen months! An' as I
+was tellin' the doctor all about it, "Missus," 'e says ter me, lookin'
+at me straight in the eyeball. "Missus," says 'e, "'ave you been
+drinkin'?" "Drinkin'?" says I; "no! I've 'ad a little drop, but as for
+drinkin'! Mind," says I, "I don't say I'm a teetotaller--I'm not, I
+'ave my glass of beer, and I like it. I couldn't do withaht it, wot
+with the work I 'ave, I must 'ave somethin' ter keep me tergether. But
+as for drinkin' 'eavily! Well! I can say this, there ain't a soberer
+woman than myself in all London. Why, my first 'usband never touched a
+drop. Ah, my first 'usband, 'e was a beauty, 'e was."'
+
+She stopped the repetition of her conversation and addressed herself
+to Liza.
+
+''E was thet different ter this one. 'E was a man as 'ad seen better
+days. 'E was a gentleman!' She mouthed the word and emphasized it with
+an expressive nod.
+
+''E was a gentleman and a Christian. 'E'd been in good circumstances
+in 'is time; an' 'e was a man of education and a teetotaller, for
+twenty-two years.'
+
+At that moment Liza's mother appeared on the scene.
+
+'Good evenin', Mrs. Stanley,' she said, politely.
+
+'The sime ter you, Mrs. Kemp.' replied that lady, with equal courtesy.
+
+'An' 'ow is your poor 'ead?' asked Liza's mother, with sympathy.
+
+'Oh, it's been achin' cruel. I've hardly known wot ter do with
+myself.'
+
+'I'm sure 'e ought ter be ashimed of 'imself for treatin' yer like
+thet.'
+
+'Oh, it wasn't 'is blows I minded so much, Mrs. Kemp,' replied Mrs.
+Stanley, 'an' don't you think it. It was wot 'e said ter me. I can
+stand a blow as well as any woman. I don't mind thet, an' when 'e
+don't tike a mean advantage of me I can stand up for myself an' give
+as good as I tike; an' many's the time I give my fust husband a black
+eye. But the language 'e used, an' the things 'e called me! It made me
+blush to the roots of my 'air; I'm not used ter bein' spoken ter like
+thet. I was in good circumstances when my fust 'usband was alive, 'e
+earned between two an' three pound a week, 'e did. As I said to 'im
+this mornin', "'Ow a gentleman can use sich language, I dunno."'
+
+''Usbands is cautions, 'owever good they are,' said Mrs. Kemp,
+aphoristically. 'But I mustn't stay aht 'ere in the night air.'
+
+''As yer rheumatism been troublin' yer litely?' asked Mrs. Stanley.
+
+'Oh, cruel. Liza rubs me with embrocation every night, but it torments
+me cruel.'
+
+Mrs. Kemp then went into the house, and Liza remained talking to Mrs.
+Stanley, she, too, had to go in, and Liza was left alone. Some while
+she spent thinking of nothing, staring vacantly in front of her,
+enjoying the cool and quiet of the evening. But Liza could not be left
+alone long, several boys came along with a bat and a ball, and fixed
+upon the road just in front of her for their pitch. Taking off their
+coats they piled them up at the two ends, and were ready to begin.
+
+'I say, old gal,' said one of them to Liza, 'come an' have a gime of
+cricket, will yer?'
+
+'Na, Bob, I'm tired.'
+
+'Come on!'
+
+'Na, I tell you I won't.'
+
+'She was on the booze yesterday, an' she ain't got over it,' cried
+another boy.
+
+'I'll swipe yer over the snitch!' replied Liza to him, and then on
+being asked again, said:
+
+'Leave me alone, won't yer?'
+
+'Liza's got the needle ter-night, thet's flat,' commented a third
+member of the team.
+
+'I wouldn't drink if I was you, Liza,' added another, with mock
+gravity. 'It's a bad 'abit ter git into,' and he began rolling and
+swaying about like a drunken man.
+
+If Liza had been 'in form' she would have gone straight away and given
+the whole lot of them a sample of her strength; but she was only
+rather bored and vexed that they should disturb her quietness, so she
+let them talk. They saw she was not to be drawn, and leaving her, set
+to their game. She watched them for some time, but her thoughts
+gradually lost themselves, and insensibly her mind was filled with a
+burly form, and she was again thinking of Jim.
+
+''E is a good sort ter want ter tike me ter the ply,' she said to
+herself. 'Tom never arst me!'
+
+Jim had said he would come out in the evening; he ought to be here
+soon, she thought. Of course she wasn't going to the theatre with him,
+but she didn't mind talking to him; she rather enjoyed being asked to
+do a thing and refusing, and she would have liked another opportunity
+of doing so. But he didn't come and he had said he would!
+
+'I say, Bill,' she said at last to one of the boys who was fielding
+close beside her, 'that there Blakeston--d'you know 'im?'
+
+'Yes, rather; why, he works at the sime plice as me.'
+
+'Wot's 'e do with 'isself in the evening; I never see 'im abaht?'
+
+'I dunno. I see 'im this evenin' go into the "Red Lion". I suppose
+'e's there, but I dunno.'
+
+Then he wasn't coming. Of course she had told him she was going to
+stay indoors, but he might have come all the same--just to see.
+
+'I know Tom 'ud 'ave come,' she said to herself, rather sulkily.
+
+'Liza! Liza!' she heard her mother's voice calling her.
+
+'Arright, I'm comin',' said Liza.
+
+'I've been witin' for you this last 'alf-hour ter rub me.'
+
+'Why didn't yer call?' asked Liza.
+
+'I did call. I've been callin' this last I dunno 'ow long; it's give
+me quite a sore throat.'
+
+'I never 'eard yer.'
+
+'Na, yer didn't want ter 'ear me, did yer? Yer don't mind if I dies
+with rheumatics, do yer? I know.'
+
+Liza did not answer, but took the bottle, and, pouring some of the
+liniment on her hand, began to rub it into Mrs. Kemp's rheumatic
+joints, while the invalid kept complaining and grumbling at everything
+Liza did.
+
+'Don't rub so 'ard, Liza, you'll rub all the skin off.'
+
+Then when Liza did it as gently as she could, she grumbled again.
+
+'If yer do it like thet, it won't do no good at all. You want ter sive
+yerself trouble--I know yer. When I was young girls didn't mind a
+little bit of 'ard work--but, law bless yer, you don't care abaht my
+rheumatics, do yer?'
+
+At last she finished, and Liza went to bed by her mother's side.
+
+
+
+
+7
+
+
+Two days passed, and it was Friday morning. Liza had got up early and
+strolled off to her work in good time, but she did not meet her
+faithful Sally on the way, nor find her at the factory when she
+herself arrived. The bell rang and all the girls trooped in, but still
+Sally did not come. Liza could not make it out, and was thinking she
+would be shut out, when just as the man who gave out the tokens for
+the day's work was pulling down the shutter in front of his window,
+Sally arrived, breathless and perspiring.
+
+'Whew! Go' lumme, I am 'ot!' she said, wiping her face with her apron.
+
+'I thought you wasn't comin',' said Liza.
+
+'Well, I only just did it; I overslep' myself. I was aht lite last
+night.'
+
+'Were yer?'
+
+'Me an' 'Arry went ter see the ply. Oh, Liza, it's simply spiffin'!
+I've never see sich a good ply in my life. Lor'! Why, it mikes yer
+blood run cold: they 'ang a man on the stige; oh, it mide me creep all
+over!'
+
+And then she began telling Liza all about it--the blood and thunder,
+the shooting, the railway train, the murder, the bomb, the hero, the
+funny man--jumbling everything up in her excitement, repeating little
+scraps of dialogue--all wrong--gesticulating, getting excited and red
+in the face at the recollection. Liza listened rather crossly, feeling
+bored at the detail into which Sally was going: the piece really
+didn't much interest her.
+
+'One 'ud think yer'd never been to a theatre in your life before,' she
+said.
+
+'I never seen anything so good, I can tell yer. You tike my tip, and
+git Tom ter tike yer.'
+
+'I don't want ter go; an' if I did I'd py for myself an' go alone.'
+
+'Cheese it! That ain't 'alf so good. Me an' 'Arry, we set together,
+'im with 'is arm round my wiste and me oldin' 'is 'and. It was jam, I
+can tell yer!'
+
+'Well, I don't want anyone sprawlin' me abaht, thet ain't my mark!'
+
+'But I do like 'Arry; you dunno the little ways 'e 'as; an' we're
+goin' ter be married in three weeks now. 'Arry said, well, 'e says,
+"I'll git a licence." "Na," says I, "'ave the banns read aht in
+church: it seems more reg'lar like to 'ave banns; so they're goin' ter
+be read aht next Sunday. You'll come with me 'an 'ear them, won't yer,
+Liza?"'
+
+'Yus, I don't mind.'
+
+On the way home Sally insisted on stopping in front of the poster and
+explaining to Liza all about the scene represented.
+
+'Oh, you give me the sick with your "Fital Card", you do! I'm goin'
+'ome.' And she left Sally in the midst of her explanation.
+
+'I dunno wot's up with Liza,' remarked Sally to a mutual friend.
+'She's always got the needle, some'ow.'
+
+'Oh, she's barmy,' answered the friend.
+
+'Well, I do think she's a bit dotty sometimes--I do really,' rejoined
+Sally.
+
+Liza walked homewards, thinking of the play; at length she tossed her
+head impatiently.
+
+'I don't want ter see the blasted thing; an' if I see that there Jim
+I'll tell 'im so; swop me bob, I will.'
+
+She did see him; he was leaning with his back against the wall of his
+house, smoking. Liza knew he had seen her, and as she walked by
+pretended not to have noticed him. To her disgust, he let her pass,
+and she was thinking he hadn't seen her after all, when she heard him
+call her name.
+
+'Liza!'
+
+She turned round and started with surprise very well imitated. 'I
+didn't see you was there!' she said.
+
+'Why did yer pretend not ter notice me, as yer went past--eh, Liza?'
+
+'Why, I didn't see yer.'
+
+'Garn! But you ain't shirty with me?'
+
+'Wot 'ave I got to be shirty abaht?'
+
+He tried to take her hand, but she drew it away quickly. She was
+getting used to the movement. They went on talking, but Jim did not
+mention the theatre; Liza was surprised, and wondered whether he had
+forgotten.
+
+'Er--Sally went to the ply last night,' she said, at last.
+
+'Oh!' he said, and that was all.
+
+She got impatient.
+
+'Well, I'm off!' she said.
+
+'Na, don't go yet; I want ter talk ter yer,' he replied.
+
+'Wot abaht? anythin' in partickler?' She would drag it out of him if
+she possibly could.
+
+'Not thet I knows on,' he said, smiling.
+
+'Good night!' she said, abruptly, turning away from him.
+
+'Well, I'm damned if 'e ain't forgotten!' she said to herself,
+sulkily, as she marched home.
+
+The following evening about six o'clock, it suddenly struck her that
+it was the last night of the 'New and Sensational Drama'.
+
+'I do like thet Jim Blakeston,' she said to herself; 'fancy treatin'
+me like thet! You wouldn't catch Tom doin' sich a thing. Bli'me if I
+speak to 'im again, the ----. Now I shan't see it at all. I've a good
+mind ter go on my own 'ook. Fancy 'is forgettin' all abaht it, like
+thet!'
+
+She was really quite indignant; though, as she had distinctly refused
+Jim's offer, it was rather hard to see why.
+
+''E said 'e'd wite for me ahtside the doors; I wonder if 'e's there.
+I'll go an' see if 'e is, see if I don't--an' then if 'e's there, I'll
+go in on my own 'ook, jist ter spite 'im!'
+
+She dressed herself in her best, and, so that the neighbours shouldn't
+see her, went up a passage between some model lodging-house buildings,
+and in this roundabout way got into the Westminster Bridge Road, and
+soon found herself in front of the theatre.
+
+'I've been witin' for yer this 'alf-hour.'
+
+She turned round and saw Jim standing just behind her.
+
+''Oo are you talkin' to? I'm not goin' to the ply with you. Wot d'yer
+tike me for, eh?'
+
+''Oo are yer goin' with, then?'
+
+'I'm goin' alone.'
+
+'Garn! don't be a bloomin' jackass!'
+
+Liza was feeling very injured.
+
+'Thet's 'ow you treat me! I shall go 'ome. Why didn't you come aht the
+other night?'
+
+'Yer told me not ter.'
+
+She snorted at the ridiculous ineptitude of the reply.
+
+'Why didn't you say nothin' abaht it yesterday?'
+
+'Why, I thought you'd come if I didn't talk on it.'
+
+'Well, I think you're a ---- brute!' She felt very much inclined to
+cry.
+
+'Come on, Liza, don't tike on; I didn't mean no offence.' And he put
+his arm round her waist and led her to take their places at the
+gallery door. Two tears escaped from the corners of her eyes and ran
+down her nose, but she felt very relieved and happy, and let him lead
+her where he would.
+
+There was a long string of people waiting at the door, and Liza was
+delighted to see a couple of niggers who were helping them to while
+away the time of waiting. The niggers sang and danced, and made faces,
+while the people looked on with appreciative gravity, like royalty
+listening to de Reske, and they were very generous of applause and
+halfpence at the end of the performance. Then, when the niggers moved
+to the pit doors, paper boys came along offering _Tit-Bits_ and 'extra
+specials'; after that three little girls came round and sang
+sentimental songs and collected more halfpence. At last a movement ran
+through the serpent-like string of people, sounds were heard behind
+the door, everyone closed up, the men told the women to keep close and
+hold tight; there was a great unbarring and unbolting, the doors were
+thrown open, and, like a bursting river, the people surged in.
+
+Half an hour more and the curtain went up. The play was indeed
+thrilling. Liza quite forgot her companion, and was intent on the
+scene; she watched the incidents breathlessly, trembling with
+excitement, almost beside herself at the celebrated hanging incident.
+When the curtain fell on the first act she sighed and mopped her face.
+
+'See 'ow 'ot I am.' she said to Jim, giving him her hand.
+
+'Yus, you are!' he remarked, taking it.
+
+'Leave go!' she said, trying to withdraw it from him.
+
+'Not much,' he answered, quite boldly.
+
+'Garn! Leave go!' But he didn't, and she really did not struggle very
+violently.
+
+The second act came, and she shrieked over the comic man; and her
+laughter rang higher than anyone else's, so that people turned to look
+at her, and said:
+
+'She is enjoyin' 'erself.'
+
+Then when the murder came she bit her nails and the sweat stood on her
+forehead in great drops; in her excitement she even called out as loud
+as she could to the victim, 'Look aht!' It caused a laugh and
+slackened the tension, for the whole house was holding its breath as
+it looked at the villains listening at the door, creeping silently
+forward, crawling like tigers to their prey.
+
+Liza trembling all over, and in her terror threw herself against Jim,
+who put both his arms round her, and said:
+
+'Don't be afride, Liza; it's all right.'
+
+At last the men sprang, there was a scuffle, and the wretch was
+killed, then came the scene depicted on the posters--the victim's son
+knocking at the door, on the inside of which were the murderers and
+the murdered man. At last the curtain came down, and the house in
+relief burst forth into cheers and cheers; the handsome hero in his
+top hat was greeted thunderously; the murdered man, with his clothes
+still all disarranged, was hailed with sympathy; and the villains--the
+house yelled and hissed and booed, while the poor brutes bowed and
+tried to look as if they liked it.
+
+'I am enjoyin' myself,' said Liza, pressing herself quite close to
+Jim; 'you are a good sort ter tike me--Jim.'
+
+He gave her a little hug, and it struck her that she was sitting just
+as Sally had done, and, like Sally, she found it 'jam'.
+
+The _entr'actes_ were short and the curtain was soon up again, and the
+comic man raised customary laughter by undressing and exposing his
+nether garments to the public view; then more tragedy, and the final
+act with its darkened room, its casting lots, and its explosion.
+
+When it was all over and they had got outside Jim smacked his lips and
+said:
+
+'I could do with a gargle; let's go onto thet pub there.'
+
+'I'm as dry as bone,' said Liza; and so they went.
+
+When they got in they discovered they were hungry, and seeing some
+appetising sausage-rolls, ate of them, and washed them down with a
+couple of pots of beer; then Jim lit his pipe and they strolled off.
+They had got quite near the Westminster Bridge Road when Jim suggested
+that they should go and have one more drink before closing time.
+
+'I shall be tight,' said Liza.
+
+'Thet don't matter,' answered Jim, laughing. 'You ain't got ter go ter
+work in the mornin' an' you can sleep it aht.'
+
+'Arright, I don't mind if I do then, in for a penny, in for a pound.'
+
+At the pub door she drew back.
+
+'I say, guv'ner,' she said, 'there'll be some of the coves from dahn
+our street, and they'll see us.'
+
+'Na, there won't be nobody there, don't yer 'ave no fear.'
+
+'I don't like ter go in for fear of it.'
+
+'Well, we ain't doin' no 'arm if they does see us, an' we can go into
+the private bar, an' you bet your boots there won't be no one there.'
+
+She yielded, and they went in.
+
+'Two pints of bitter, please, miss,' ordered Jim.
+
+'I say, 'old 'ard. I can't drink more than 'alf a pint,' said Liza.
+
+'Cheese it,' answered Jim. 'You can do with all you can get, I know.'
+
+At closing time they left and walked down the broad road which led
+homewards.
+
+'Let's 'ave a little sit dahn,' said Jim, pointing to an empty bench
+between two trees.
+
+'Na, it's gettin' lite; I want ter be 'ome.'
+
+'It's such a fine night, it's a pity ter go in already;' and he drew
+her unresisting towards the seat. He put his arm round her waist.
+
+'Un'and me, villin!' she said, in apt misquotation of the melodrama,
+but Jim only laughed, and she made no effort to disengage herself.
+
+They sat there for a long while in silence; the beer had got to Liza's
+head, and the warm night air filled her with a double intoxication.
+She felt the arm round her waist, and the big, heavy form pressing
+against her side; she experienced again the curious sensation as if
+her heart were about to burst, and it choked her--a feeling so
+oppressive and painful it almost made her feel sick. Her hands began
+to tremble, and her breathing grew rapid, as though she were
+suffocating. Almost fainting, she swayed over towards the man, and a
+cold shiver ran through her from top to toe. Jim bent over her, and,
+taking her in both arms, he pressed his lips to hers in a long,
+passionate kiss. At last, panting for breath, she turned her head away
+and groaned.
+
+Then they again sat for a long while in silence, Liza full of a
+strange happiness, feeling as if she could laugh aloud hysterically,
+but restrained by the calm and silence of the night. Close behind
+struck a church clock--one.
+
+'Bless my soul!' said Liza, starting, 'there's one o'clock. I must get
+'ome.'
+
+'It's so nice out 'ere; do sty, Liza.' He pressed her closer to him.
+'Yer know, Liza, I love yer--fit ter kill.'
+
+'Na, I can't stay; come on.' She got up from the seat, and pulled him
+up too. 'Come on,' she said.
+
+Without speaking they went along, and there was no one to be seen
+either in front or behind them. He had not got his arm round her now,
+and they were walking side by side, slightly separated. It was Liza
+who spoke first.
+
+'You'd better go dahn the Road and by the church an' git into Vere
+Street the other end, an' I'll go through the passage, so thet no one
+shouldn't see us comin' together,' she spoke almost in a whisper.
+
+'Arright, Liza,' he answered, 'I'll do just as you tell me.'
+
+They came to the passage of which Liza spoke; it was a narrow way
+between blank walls, the backs of factories, and it led into the upper
+end of Vere Street. The entrance to it was guarded by two iron posts
+in the middle so that horses or barrows should not be taken through.
+
+They had just got to it when a man came out into the open road. Liza
+quickly turned her head away.
+
+'I wonder if 'e see us,' she said, when he had passed out of earshot.
+''E's lookin' back,' she added.
+
+'Why, 'oo is it?' asked Jim.
+
+'It's a man aht of our street,' she answered. 'I dunno 'im, but I know
+where 'e lodges. D'yer think 'e sees us?'
+
+'Na, 'e wouldn't know 'oo it was in the dark.'
+
+'But he looked round; all the street'll know it if he see us.'
+
+'Well, we ain't doin' no 'arm.'
+
+She stretched out her hand to say good night.
+
+'I'll come a wy with yer along the passage,' said Jim.
+
+'Na, you mustn't; you go straight round.'
+
+'But it's so dark; p'raps summat'll 'appen to yer.'
+
+'Not it! You go on 'ome an' leave me,' she replied, and entering the
+passage, stood facing him with one of the iron pillars between them.
+
+'Good night, old cock,' she said, stretching out her hand. He took it,
+and said:
+
+'I wish yer wasn't goin' ter leave me, Liza.'
+
+'Garn! I must!' She tried to get her hand away from his, but he held
+it firm, resting it on the top of the pillar.
+
+'Leave go my 'and,' she said. He made no movement, but looked into her
+eyes steadily, so that it made her uneasy. She repented having come
+out with him. 'Leave go my 'and.' And she beat down on his with her
+closed fist.
+
+'Liza!' he said, at last.
+
+'Well, wot is it?' she answered, still thumping down on his hand with
+her fist.
+
+'Liza,' he said a whisper, 'will yer?'
+
+'Will I wot?' she said, looking down.
+
+'You know, Liza. Sy, will yer?'
+
+'Na,' she said.
+
+He bent over her and repeated--
+
+'Will yer?'
+
+She did not speak, but kept beating down on his hand.
+
+'Liza,' he said again, his voice growing hoarse and thick--'Liza, will
+yer?'
+
+She still kept silence, looking away and continually bringing down her
+fist. He looked at her a moment, and she, ceasing to thump his hand,
+looked up at him with half-opened mouth. Suddenly he shook himself,
+and closing his fist gave her a violent, swinging blow in the belly.
+
+'Come on.' he said.
+
+And together they slid down into the darkness of the passage.
+
+
+
+
+8
+
+
+Mrs. Kemp was in the habit of slumbering somewhat heavily on Sunday
+mornings, or Liza would not have been allowed to go on sleeping as she
+did. When she woke, she rubbed her eyes to gather her senses together
+and gradually she remembered having gone to the theatre on the
+previous evening; then suddenly everything came back to her. She
+stretched out her legs and gave a long sigh of delight. Her heart was
+full; she thought of Jim, and the delicious sensation of love came
+over her. Closing her eyes, she imagined his warm kisses, and she
+lifted up her arms as if to put them round his neck and draw him down
+to her; she almost felt the rough beard on her face, and the strong
+heavy arms round her body. She smiled to herself and took a long
+breath; then, slipping back the sleeves of her nightdress, she looked
+at her own thin arms, just two pieces of bone with not a muscle on
+them, but very white and showing distinctly the interlacement of blue
+veins: she did not notice that her hands were rough, and red and dirty
+with the nails broken, and bitten to the quick. She got out of bed and
+looked at herself in the glass over the mantelpiece: with one hand she
+brushed back her hair and smiled at herself; her face was very small
+and thin, but the complexion was nice, clear and white, with a
+delicate tint of red on the cheeks, and her eyes were big and dark
+like her hair. She felt very happy.
+
+She did not want to dress yet, but rather to sit down and think, so
+she twisted up her hair into a little knot, slipped a skirt over her
+nightdress, and sat on a chair near the window and began looking
+around. The decorations of the room had been centred on the
+mantelpiece; the chief ornament consisted of a pear and an apple, a
+pineapple, a bunch of grapes, and several fat plums, all very
+beautifully done in wax, as was the fashion about the middle of this
+most glorious reign. They were appropriately coloured--the apple
+blushing red, the grapes an inky black, emerald green leaves were
+scattered here and there to lend finish, and the whole was mounted on
+an ebonised stand covered with black velvet, and protected from dust
+and dirt by a beautiful glass cover bordered with red plush. Liza's
+eyes rested on this with approbation, and the pineapple quite made her
+mouth water. At either end of the mantelpiece were pink jars with blue
+flowers on the front; round the top in Gothic letters of gold was
+inscribed: 'A Present from a Friend'--these were products of a later,
+but not less artistic age. The intervening spaces were taken up with
+little jars and cups and saucers--gold inside, with a view of a town
+outside, and surrounding them, 'A Present from Clacton-on-Sea,' or,
+alliteratively, 'A Memento of Margate.' Of these many were broken, but
+they had been mended with glue, and it is well known that pottery in
+the eyes of the connoisseur loses none of its value by a crack or two.
+Then there were portraits innumerable--little yellow cartes-de-visite
+in velvet frames, some of which were decorated with shells; they
+showed strange people with old-fashioned clothes, the women with
+bodices and sleeves fitting close to the figure, stern-featured
+females with hair carefully parted in the middle and plastered down on
+each side, firm chins and mouths, with small, pig-like eyes and
+wrinkled faces, and the men were uncomfortably clad in Sunday
+garments, very stiff and uneasy in their awkward postures, with large
+whiskers and shaved chins and upper lips and a general air of
+horny-handed toil. Then there were one or two daguerreotypes, little
+full-length figures framed in gold paper. There was one of Mrs. Kemp's
+father and one of her mother, and there were several photographs of
+betrothed or newly-married couples, the lady sitting down and the man
+standing behind her with his hand on the chair, or the man sitting and
+the woman with her hand on his shoulder. And from all sides of the
+room, standing on the mantelpiece, hanging above it, on the wall and
+over the bed, they stared full-face into the room, self-consciously
+fixed for ever in their stiff discomfort.
+
+The walls were covered with dingy, antiquated paper, and ornamented
+with coloured supplements from Christmas Numbers--there was a very
+patriotic picture of a soldier shaking the hand of a fallen comrade
+and waving his arm in defiance of a band of advancing Arabs; there was
+a 'Cherry Ripe,' almost black with age and dirt; there were two
+almanacks several years old, one with a coloured portrait of the
+Marquess of Lorne, very handsome and elegantly dressed, the object of
+Mrs. Kemp's adoration since her husband's demise; the other a Jubilee
+portrait of the Queen, somewhat losing in dignity by a moustache which
+Liza in an irreverent moment had smeared on with charcoal.
+
+The furniture consisted of a wash-hand stand and a little deal chest
+of drawers, which acted as sideboard to such pots and pans and
+crockery as could not find room in the grate; and besides the bed
+there was nothing but two kitchen chairs and a lamp. Liza looked at it
+all and felt perfectly satisfied; she put a pin into one corner of the
+noble Marquess to prevent him from falling, fiddled about with the
+ornaments a little, and then started washing herself. After putting on
+her clothes she ate some bread-and-butter, swallowed a dishful of cold
+tea, and went out into the street.
+
+She saw some boys playing cricket and went up to them.
+
+'Let me ply,' she said.
+
+'Arright, Liza,' cried half a dozen of them in delight; and the
+captain added: 'You go an' scout over by the lamp-post.'
+
+'Go an' scout my eye!' said Liza, indignantly. 'When I ply cricket I
+does the battin'.'
+
+'Na, you're not goin' ter bat all the time. 'Oo are you gettin' at?'
+replied the captain, who had taken advantage of his position to put
+himself in first, and was still at the wicket.
+
+'Well, then I shan't ply,' answered Liza.
+
+'Garn, Ernie, let 'er go in!' shouted two or three members of the
+team.
+
+'Well, I'm busted!' remarked the captain, as she took his bat. 'You
+won't sty in long, I lay,' he said, as he sent the old bowler fielding
+and took the ball himself. He was a young gentleman who did not suffer
+from excessive backwardness.
+
+'Aht!' shouted a dozen voices as the ball went past Liza's bat and
+landed in the pile of coats which formed the wicket. The captain came
+forward to resume his innings, but Liza held the bat away from him.
+
+'Garn!' she said; 'thet was only a trial.'
+
+'You never said trial,' answered the captain indignantly.
+
+'Yus, I did,' said Liza; 'I said it just as the ball was comin'--under
+my breath.'
+
+'Well, I am busted!' repeated the captain.
+
+Just then Liza saw Tom among the lookers-on, and as she felt very
+kindly disposed to the world in general that morning, she called out
+to him:
+
+''Ulloa, Tom!' she said. 'Come an' give us a ball; this chap can't
+bowl.'
+
+'Well, I got yer aht, any'ow,' said that person.
+
+'Ah, yer wouldn't 'ave got me aht plyin' square. But a trial
+ball--well, one don't ever know wot a trial ball's goin' ter do.'
+
+Tom began bowling very slowly and easily, so that Liza could swing her
+bat round and hit mightily; she ran well, too, and pantingly brought
+up her score to twenty. Then the fielders interposed.
+
+'I sy, look 'ere, 'e's only givin' 'er lobs; 'e's not tryin' ter git
+'er aht.'
+
+'You're spoilin' our gime.'
+
+'I don't care; I've got twenty runs--thet's more than you could do.
+I'll go aht now of my own accord, so there! Come on, Tom.'
+
+Tom joined her, and as the captain at last resumed his bat and the
+game went on, they commenced talking, Liza leaning against the wall of
+a house, while Tom stood in front of her, smiling with pleasure.
+
+'Where 'ave you been idin' yerself, Tom? I ain't seen yer for I dunno
+'ow long.'
+
+'I've been abaht as usual; an' I've seen you when you didn't see me.'
+
+'Well, yer might 'ave come up and said good mornin' when you see me.'
+
+'I didn't want ter force myself on, yer, Liza.'
+
+'Garn! You are a bloomin' cuckoo. I'm blowed!'
+
+'I thought yer didn't like me 'angin' round yer; so I kep' awy.'
+
+'Why, yer talks as if I didn't like yer. Yer don't think I'd 'ave come
+aht beanfeastin' with yer if I 'adn't liked yer?'
+
+Liza was really very dishonest, but she felt so happy this morning
+that she loved the whole world, and of course Tom came in with the
+others. She looked very kindly at him, and he was so affected that a
+great lump came in his throat and he could not speak.
+
+Liza's eyes turned to Jim's house, and she saw coming out of the door
+a girl of about her own age; she fancied she saw in her some likeness
+to Jim.
+
+'Say, Tom,' she asked, 'thet ain't Blakeston's daughter, is it?'
+
+'Yus thet's it.'
+
+'I'll go an' speak to 'er,' said Liza, leaving Tom and going over the
+road.
+
+'You're Polly Blakeston, ain't yer?' she said.
+
+'Thet's me!' said the girl.
+
+'I thought you was. Your dad, 'e says ter me, "You dunno my daughter,
+Polly, do yer?" says 'e. "Na," says I, "I don't." "Well," says 'e,
+"You can't miss 'er when you see 'er." An' right enough I didn't.'
+
+'Mother says I'm all father, an' there ain't nothin' of 'er in me. Dad
+says it's lucky it ain't the other wy abaht, or e'd 'ave got a
+divorce.'
+
+They both laughed.
+
+'Where are you goin' now?' asked Liza, looking at the slop-basin she
+was carrying.
+
+'I was just goin' dahn into the road ter get some ice-cream for
+dinner. Father 'ad a bit of luck last night, 'e says, and 'e'd stand
+the lot of us ice-cream for dinner ter-day.'
+
+'I'll come with yer if yer like.'
+
+'Come on!' And, already friends, they walked arm-in-arm to the
+Westminster Bridge Road. Then they went along till they came to a
+stall where an Italian was selling the required commodity, and having
+had a taste apiece to see if they liked it, Polly planked down
+sixpence and had her basin filled with a poisonous-looking mixture of
+red and white ice-cream.
+
+On the way back, looking up the street, Polly cried:
+
+'There's father!'
+
+Liza's heart beat rapidly and she turned red; but suddenly a sense of
+shame came over her, and casting down her head so that she might not
+see him, she said:
+
+'I think I'll be off 'ome an' see 'ow mother's gettin' on.' And before
+Polly could say anything she had slipped away and entered her own
+house.
+
+Mother was not getting on at all well.
+
+'You've come in at last, you ----, you!' snarled Mrs. Kemp, as Liza
+entered the room.
+
+'Wot's the matter, mother?'
+
+'Matter! I like thet--matter indeed! Go an' matter yerself an' be
+mattered! Nice way ter treat an old woman like me--an' yer own mother,
+too!'
+
+'Wot's up now?'
+
+'Don't talk ter me; I don't want ter listen ter you. Leavin' me all
+alone, me with my rheumatics, an' the neuralgy! I've 'ad the neuralgy
+all the mornin', and my 'ead's been simply splittin', so thet I
+thought the bones 'ud come apart and all my brains go streamin' on the
+floor. An' when I wake up there's no one ter git my tea for me, an' I
+lay there witin' an' witin', an' at last I 'ad ter git up and mike it
+myself. And, my 'ead simply cruel! Why, I might 'ave been burnt ter
+death with the fire alight an' me asleep.'
+
+'Well, I am sorry, mother; but I went aht just for a bit, an' didn't
+think you'd wike. An' besides, the fire wasn't alight.'
+
+'Garn with yer! I didn't treat my mother like thet. Oh, you've been a
+bad daughter ter me--an' I 'ad more illness carryin' you than with all
+the other children put togither. You was a cross at yer birth, an'
+you've been a cross ever since. An' now in my old age, when I've
+worked myself ter the bone, yer leaves me to starve and burn to
+death.' Here she began to cry, and the rest of her utterances was lost
+in sobs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The dusk had darkened into night, and Mrs. Kemp had retired to rest
+with the dicky-birds. Liza was thinking of many things; she wondered
+why she had been unwilling to meet Jim in the morning.
+
+'I was a bally fool,' she said to herself.
+
+It really seemed an age since the previous night, and all that had
+happened seemed very long ago. She had not spoken to Jim all day, and
+she had so much to say to him. Then, wondering whether he was about,
+she went to the window and looked out; but there was nobody there. She
+closed the window again and sat just beside it; the time went on, and
+she wondered whether he would come, asking herself whether he had been
+thinking of her as she of him; gradually her thoughts grew vague, and
+a kind of mist came over them. She nodded. Suddenly she roused
+herself with a start, fancying she had heard something; she listened
+again, and in a moment the sound was repeated, three or four gentle
+taps on the window. She opened it quickly and whispered:
+
+'Jim.'
+
+'Thet's me,' he answered, 'come aht.'
+
+Closing the window, she went into the passage and opened the street
+door; it was hardly unlocked before Jim had pushed his way in; partly
+shutting it behind him, he took her in his arms and hugged her to his
+breast. She kissed him passionately.
+
+'I thought yer'd come ter-night, Jim; summat in my 'eart told me so.
+But you 'ave been long.'
+
+'I wouldn't come before, 'cause I thought there'd be people abaht.
+Kiss us!' And again he pressed his lips to hers, and Liza nearly
+fainted with the delight of it.
+
+'Let's go for a walk, shall we?' he said.
+
+'Arright!' They were speaking in whispers. 'You go into the road
+through the passage, an' I'll go by the street.'
+
+'Yus, thet's right,' and kissing her once more, he slid out, and she
+closed the door behind him.
+
+Then going back to get her hat, she came again into the passage,
+waiting behind the door till it might be safe for her to venture. She
+had not made up her mind to risk it, when she heard a key put in the
+lock, and she hardly had time to spring back to prevent herself from
+being hit by the opening door. It was a man, one of the upstairs
+lodgers.
+
+''Ulloa!' he said, ''oo's there?'
+
+'Mr. 'Odges! Strikes me, you did give me a turn; I was just goin' aht.'
+She blushed to her hair, but in the darkness he could see nothing.
+
+'Good night,' she said, and went out.
+
+She walked close along the sides of the houses like a thief, and the
+policeman as she passed him turned round and looked at her, wondering
+whether she was meditating some illegal deed. She breathed freely on
+coming into the open road, and seeing Jim skulking behind a tree, ran
+up to him, and in the shadows they kissed again.
+
+
+
+
+9
+
+
+Thus began a time of love and joy. As soon as her work was over and
+she had finished tea, Liza would slip out and at some appointed spot
+meet Jim. Usually it would be at the church, where the Westminster
+Bridge Road bends down to get to the river, and they would go off,
+arm-in-arm, till they came to some place where they could sit down and
+rest. Sometimes they would walk along the Albert Embankment to
+Battersea Park, and here sit on the benches, watching the children
+play. The female cyclist had almost abandoned Battersea for the parks
+on the other side of the river, but often enough one went by, and
+Liza, with the old-fashioned prejudice of her class, would look after
+the rider and make some remark about her, not seldom more forcible
+than ladylike. Both Jim and she liked children, and, tiny, ragged
+urchins would gather round to have rides on the man's knees or mock
+fights with Liza.
+
+They thought themselves far away from anyone in Vere Street, but
+twice, as they were walking along, they were met by people they knew.
+Once it was two workmen coming home from a job at Vauxhall: Liza did
+not see them till they were quite near; she immediately dropped Jim's
+arm, and they both cast their eyes to the ground as the men passed,
+like ostriches, expecting that if they did not look they would not be
+seen.
+
+'D'you see 'em, Jim?' asked Liza, in a whisper, when they had gone by.
+'I wonder if they see us.' Almost instinctively she turned round, and
+at the same moment one of the men turned too; then there was no doubt
+about it.
+
+'Thet did give me a turn,' she said.
+
+'So it did me,' answered Jim; 'I simply went 'ot all over.'
+
+'We was bally fools,' said Liza; 'we oughter 'ave spoken to 'em! D'you
+think they'll let aht?'
+
+They heard nothing of it, when Jim afterwards met one of the men in a
+public-house he did not mention a meeting, and they thought that
+perhaps they had not been recognized. But the second time was worse.
+
+It was on the Albert Embankment again. They were met by a party of
+four, all of whom lived in the street. Liza's heart sank within her,
+for there was no chance of escape; she thought of turning quickly and
+walking in the opposite direction, but there was not time, for the men
+had already seen them. She whispered to Jim:
+
+'Back us up,' and as they met she said to one of the men:
+
+''Ulloa there! Where are you off to?'
+
+The men stopped, and one of them asked the question back.
+
+'Where are you off to?'
+
+'Me? Oh, I've just been to the 'orspital. One of the gals at our place
+is queer, an' so I says ter myself, "I'll go an' see 'er."' She
+faltered a little as she began, but quickly gathered herself together,
+lying fluently and without hesitation.
+
+'An' when I come aht,' she went on, ''oo should I see just passin' the
+'orspital but this 'ere cove, an' 'e says to me, "Wot cheer," says 'e,
+"I'm goin' ter Vaux'all, come an' walk a bit of the wy with us."
+"Arright," says I, "I don't mind if I do."'
+
+One man winked, and another said: 'Go it, Liza!'
+
+She fired up with the dignity of outraged innocence.
+
+'Wot d'yer mean by thet?' she said; 'd'yer think I'm kiddin'?'
+
+'Kiddin'? No! You've only just come up from the country, ain't yer?'
+
+'Think I'm kidding? What d'yer think I want ter kid for? Liars never
+believe anyone, thet's fact.'
+
+'Na then, Liza, don't be saucy.'
+
+'Saucy! I'll smack yer in the eye if yer sy much ter me. Come on,' she
+said to Jim, who had been standing sheepishly by; and they walked
+away.
+
+The men shouted: 'Now we shan't be long!' and went off laughing.
+
+After that they decided to go where there was no chance at all of
+their being seen. They did not meet till they got over Westminster
+Bridge, and thence they made their way into the park; they would lie
+down on the grass in one another's arms, and thus spend the long
+summer evenings. After the heat of the day there would be a gentle
+breeze in the park, and they would take in long breaths of the air; it
+seemed far away from London, it was so quiet and cool; and Liza, as
+she lay by Jim's side, felt her love for him overflowing to the rest
+of the world and enveloping mankind itself in a kind of grateful
+happiness. If it could only have lasted! They would stay and see the
+stars shine out dimly, one by one, from the blue sky, till it grew
+late and the blue darkened into black, and the stars glittered in
+thousands all above them. But as the nights grew cooler, they found it
+cold on the grass, and the time they had there seemed too short for
+the long journey they had to make; so, crossing the bridge as before,
+they strolled along the Embankment till they came to a vacant bench,
+and there they would sit, with Liza nestling close up to her lover and
+his great arms around her. The rain of September made no difference to
+them; they went as usual to their seat beneath the trees, and Jim
+would take Liza on his knee, and, opening his coat, shelter her with
+it, while she, with her arms round his neck, pressed very close to
+him, and occasionally gave a little laugh of pleasure and delight.
+They hardly spoke at all through these evenings, for what had they to
+say to one another? Often without exchanging a word they would sit for
+an hour with their faces touching, the one feeling on his cheek the
+hot breath from the other's mouth; while at the end of the time the
+only motion was an upraising of Liza's lips, a bending down of Jim's,
+so that they might meet and kiss. Sometimes Liza fell into a light
+doze, and Jim would sit very still for fear of waking her, and when
+she roused herself she would smile, while he bent down again and
+kissed her. They were very happy. But the hours passed by so quickly,
+that Big Ben striking twelve came upon them as a surprise, and
+unwillingly they got up and made their way homewards; their partings
+were never ending--each evening Jim refused to let her go from his
+arms, and tears stood in his eyes at the thought of the separation.
+
+'I'd give somethin',' he would say, 'if we could be togither always.'
+
+'Never mind, old chap!' Liza would answer, herself half crying, 'it
+can't be 'elped, so we must jolly well lump it.'
+
+But notwithstanding all their precautions people in Vere Street
+appeared to know. First of all Liza noticed that the women did not
+seem quite so cordial as before, and she often fancied they were
+talking of her; when she passed by they appeared to look at her, then
+say something or other, and perhaps burst out laughing; but when she
+approached they would immediately stop speaking, and keep silence in a
+rather awkward, constrained manner. For a long time she was unwilling
+to believe that there was any change in them, and Jim who had observed
+nothing, persuaded her that it was all fancy. But gradually it became
+clearer, and Jim had to agree with her that somehow or other people
+had found out. Once when Liza had been talking to Polly, Jim's
+daughter, Mrs. Blakeston had called her, and when the girl had come to
+her mother Liza saw that she spoke angrily, and they both looked
+across at her. When Liza caught Mrs. Blakeston's eye she saw in her
+face a surly scowl, which almost frightened her; she wanted to brave
+it out, and stepped forward a little to go and speak with the woman,
+but Mrs. Blakeston, standing still, looked so angrily at her that she
+was afraid to. When she told Jim his face grew dark, and he said:
+'Blast the woman! I'll give 'er wot for if she says anythin' ter you.'
+
+'Don't strike 'er, wotever 'appens, will yer, Jim?' said Liza.
+
+'She'd better tike care then!' he answered, and he told her that
+lately his wife had been sulking, and not speaking to him. The
+previous night, on coming home after the day's work and bidding her
+'Good evenin',' she had turned her back on him without answering.
+
+'Can't you answer when you're spoke to?' he had said.
+
+'Good evenin',' she had replied sulkily, with her back still turned.
+
+After that Liza noticed that Polly avoided her.
+
+'Wot's up, Polly?' she said to her one day. 'You never speaks now;
+'ave you 'ad yer tongue cut aht?'
+
+'Me? I ain't got nothin' ter speak abaht, thet I knows of,' answered
+Polly, abruptly walking off. Liza grew very red and quickly looked to
+see if anyone had noticed the incident. A couple of youths, sitting on
+the pavement, had seen it, and she saw them nudge one another and
+wink.
+
+Then the fellows about the street began to chaff her.
+
+'You look pale,' said one of a group to her one day.
+
+'You're overworkin' yerself, you are,' said another.
+
+'Married life don't agree with Liza, thet's wot it is,' added a third.
+
+''Oo d'yer think yer gettin' at? I ain't married, an' never like ter
+be,' she answered.
+
+'Liza 'as all the pleasures of a 'usband an' none of the trouble.'
+
+'Bli'me if I know wot yer mean!' said Liza.
+
+'Na, of course not; you don't know nothin', do yer?'
+
+'Innocent as a bibe. Our Father which art in 'eaven!'
+
+''Aven't been in London long, 'ave yer?'
+
+They spoke in chorus, and Liza stood in front of them, bewildered, not
+knowing what to answer.
+
+'Don't you mike no mistake abaht it, Liza knows a thing or two.'
+
+'O me darlin', I love yer fit to kill, but tike care your missus ain't
+round the corner.' This was particularly bold, and they all laughed.
+
+Liza felt very uncomfortable, and fiddled about with her apron,
+wondering how she should get away.
+
+'Tike care yer don't git into trouble, thet's all,' said one of the
+men, with burlesque gravity.
+
+'Yer might give us a chanst, Liza, you come aht with me one evenin'.
+You oughter give us all a turn, just ter show there's no ill-feelin'.'
+
+'Bli'me if I know wot yer all talkin' abaht. You're all barmy on the
+crumpet,' said Liza indignantly, and, turning her back on them, made
+for home.
+
+Among other things that had happened was Sally's marriage. One
+Saturday a little procession had started from Vere Street, consisting
+of Sally, in a state of giggling excitement, her fringe magnificent
+after a whole week of curling-papers, clad in a perfectly new
+velveteen dress of the colour known as electric blue; and Harry,
+rather nervous and ill at ease in the unaccustomed restraint of a
+collar; these two walked arm-in-arm, and were followed by Sally's
+mother and uncle, also arm-in-arm, and the procession was brought up
+by Harry's brother and a friend. They started with a flourish of
+trumpets and an old boot, and walked down the middle of Vere Street,
+accompanied by the neighbours' good wishes; but as they got into the
+Westminster Bridge Road and nearer to the church, the happy couple
+grew silent, and Harry began to perspire freely, so that his collar
+gave him perfect torture. There was a public-house just opposite the
+church, and it was suggested that they should have a drink before
+going in. As it was a solemn occasion they went into the private bar,
+and there Sally's uncle, who was a man of means, ordered six pots of
+beer.
+
+'Feel a bit nervous, 'Arry?' asked his friend.
+
+'Na,' said Harry, as if he had been used to getting married every day
+of his life; 'bit warm, thet's all.'
+
+'Your very good 'ealth, Sally,' said her mother, lifting her mug;
+'this is the last time as I shall ever address you as miss.'
+
+'An' may she be as good a wife as you was,' added Sally's uncle.
+
+'Well, I don't think my old man ever 'ad no complaint ter mike abaht
+me. I did my duty by 'im, although it's me as says it,' answered the
+good lady.
+
+'Well, mates,' said Harry's brother, 'I reckon it's abaht time to go
+in. So 'ere's to the 'ealth of Mr. 'Enry Atkins an' 'is future missus.'
+
+'An' God bless 'em!' said Sally's mother.
+
+Then they went into the church, and as they solemnly walked up the
+aisle a pale-faced young curate came out of the vestry and down to the
+bottom of the chancel. The beer had had a calming effect on their
+troubled minds, and both Harry and Sally began to think it rather a
+good joke. They smiled on each other, and at those parts of the
+service which they thought suggestive violently nudged one another in
+the ribs. When the ring had to be produced, Harry fumbled about in
+different pockets, and his brother whispered:
+
+'Swop me bob, 'e's gone and lorst it!'
+
+However, all went right, and Sally having carefully pocketed the
+certificate, they went out and had another drink to celebrate the
+happy event.
+
+In the evening Liza and several friends came into the couple's room,
+which they had taken in the same house as Sally had lived in before,
+and drank the health of the bride and bridegroom till they thought fit
+to retire.
+
+
+
+
+10
+
+
+It was November. The fine weather had quite gone now, and with it much
+of the sweet pleasure of Jim and Liza's love. When they came out at
+night on the Embankment they found it cold and dreary; sometimes a
+light fog covered the river-banks, and made the lamps glow out dim and
+large; a light rain would be falling, which sent a chill into their
+very souls; foot passengers came along at rare intervals, holding up
+umbrellas, and staring straight in front of them as they hurried along
+in the damp and cold; a cab would pass rapidly by, splashing up the
+mud on each side. The benches were deserted, except, perhaps, for some
+poor homeless wretch who could afford no shelter, and, huddled up in a
+corner, with his head buried in his breast, was sleeping heavily, like
+a dead man. The wet mud made Liza's skirts cling about her feet, and
+the damp would come in and chill her legs and creep up her body, till
+she shivered, and for warmth pressed herself close against Jim.
+Sometimes they would go into the third-class waiting-rooms at Waterloo
+or Charing Cross and sit there, but it was not like the park or the
+Embankment on summer nights; they had warmth, but the heat made their
+wet clothes steam and smell, and the gas flared in their eyes, and
+they hated the people perpetually coming in and out, opening the doors
+and letting in a blast of cold air; they hated the noise of the guards
+and porters shouting out the departure of the trains, the shrill
+whistling of the steam-engine, the hurry and bustle and confusion.
+About eleven o'clock, when the trains grew less frequent, they got
+some quietness; but then their minds were troubled, and they felt
+heavy, sad and miserable.
+
+One evening they had been sitting at Waterloo Station; it was foggy
+outside--a thick, yellow November fog, which filled the waiting-room,
+entering the lungs, and making the mouth taste nasty and the eyes
+smart. It was about half-past eleven, and the station was unusually
+quiet; a few passengers, in wraps and overcoats, were walking to and
+fro, waiting for the last train, and one or two porters were standing
+about yawning. Liza and Jim had remained for an hour in perfect
+silence, filled with a gloomy unhappiness, as of a great weight on
+their brains. Liza was sitting forward, with her elbows on her knees,
+resting her face on her hands.
+
+'I wish I was straight,' she said at last, not looking up.
+
+'Well, why won't yer come along of me altogether, an' you'll be
+arright then?' he answered.
+
+'Na, that's no go; I can't do thet.' He had often asked her to live
+with him entirely, but she had always refused.
+
+'You can come along of me, an' I'll tike a room in a lodgin' 'ouse in
+'Olloway, an' we can live there as if we was married.'
+
+'Wot abaht yer work?'
+
+'I can get work over the other side as well as I can 'ere. I'm abaht
+sick of the wy things is goin' on.'
+
+'So am I; but I can't leave mother.'
+
+'She can come, too.'
+
+'Not when I'm not married. I shouldn't like 'er ter know as I'd--as
+I'd gone wrong.'
+
+'Well, I'll marry yer. Swop me bob, I wants ter badly enough.'
+
+'Yer can't; yer married already.'
+
+'Thet don't matter! If I give the missus so much a week aht of my
+screw, she'll sign a piper ter give up all clime ter me, an' then we
+can get spliced. One of the men as I works with done thet, an' it was
+arright.'
+
+Liza shook her head.
+
+'Na, yer can't do thet now; it's bigamy, an' the cop tikes yer, an'
+yer gits twelve months' 'ard for it.'
+
+'But swop me bob, Liza, I can't go on like this. Yer knows the
+missus--well, there ain't no bloomin' doubt abaht it, she knows as you
+an' me are carryin' on, an' she mikes no bones abaht lettin' me see
+it.'
+
+'She don't do thet?'
+
+'Well, she don't exactly sy it, but she sulks an' won't speak, an'
+then when I says anythin' she rounds on me an' calls me all the nimes
+she can think of. I'd give 'er a good 'idin', but some'ow I don't like
+ter! She mikes the plice a 'ell ter me, an' I'm not goin' ter stand it
+no longer!'
+
+'You'll ave ter sit it, then; yer can't chuck it.'
+
+'Yus I can, an' I would if you'd come along of me. I don't believe you
+like me at all, Liza, or you'd come.'
+
+She turned towards him and put her arms round his neck.
+
+'Yer know I do, old cock,' she said. 'I like yer better than anyone
+else in the world; but I can't go awy an' leave mother.'
+
+'Bli'me me if I see why; she's never been much ter you. She mikes yer
+slave awy ter pay the rent, an' all the money she earns she boozes.'
+
+'Thet's true, she ain't been wot yer might call a good mother ter
+me--but some'ow she's my mother, an' I don't like ter leave 'er on 'er
+own, now she's so old--an' she can't do much with the rheumatics. An'
+besides, Jim dear, it ain't only mother, but there's yer own kids, yer
+can't leave them.'
+
+He thought for a while, and then said:
+
+'You're abaht right there, Liza; I dunno if I could get on without the
+kids. If I could only tike them an' you too, swop me bob, I should be
+'appy.'
+
+Liza smiled sadly.
+
+'So yer see, Jim, we're in a bloomin' 'ole, an' there ain't no way aht
+of it thet I can see.'
+
+He took her on his knees, and pressing her to him, kissed her very
+long and very lovingly.
+
+'Well, we must trust ter luck,' she said again, 'p'raps somethin' 'll
+'appen soon, an' everythin' 'll come right in the end--when we gets
+four balls of worsted for a penny.'
+
+It was past twelve, and separating, they went by different ways along
+the dreary, wet, deserted roads till they came to Vere Street.
+
+The street seemed quite different to Liza from what it had been three
+months before. Tom, the humble adorer, had quite disappeared from her
+life. One day, three or four weeks after the August Bank Holiday, she
+saw him dawdling along the pavement, and it suddenly struck her that
+she had not seen him for a long time; but she had been so full of her
+happiness that she had been unable to think of anyone but Jim. She
+wondered at his absence, since before wherever she had been there was
+he certain to be also. She passed him, but to her astonishment he did
+not speak to her. She thought by some wonder he had not seen her, but
+she felt his gaze resting upon her. She turned back, and suddenly he
+dropped his eyes and looked down, walking on as if he had not seen
+her, but blushing furiously.
+
+'Tom,' she said, 'why don't yer speak ter me.'
+
+He started and blushed more than ever.
+
+'I didn't know yer was there,' he stuttered.
+
+'Don't tell me,' she said, 'wot's up?'
+
+'Nothin' as I knows of,' he answered uneasily.
+
+'I ain't offended yer, 'ave I, Tom?'
+
+'Na, not as I knows of,' he replied, looking very unhappy.
+
+'You don't ever come my way now,' she said.
+
+'I didn't know as yer wanted ter see me.'
+
+'Garn! Yer knows I likes you as well as anybody.'
+
+'Yer likes so many people, Liza,' he said, flushing.
+
+'What d'yer mean?' said Liza indignantly, but very red; she was afraid
+he knew now, and it was from him especially she would have been so
+glad to hide it.
+
+'Nothin',' he answered.
+
+'One doesn't say things like thet without any meanin', unless one's a
+blimed fool.'
+
+'You're right there, Liza,' he answered. 'I am a blimed fool.' He
+looked at her a little reproachfully, she thought, and then he said
+'Good-bye,' and turned away.
+
+At first she was horrified that he should know of her love for Jim,
+but then she did not care. After all, it was nobody's business, and
+what did anything matter as long as she loved Jim and Jim loved her?
+Then she grew angry that Tom should suspect her; he could know nothing
+but that some of the men had seen her with Jim near Vauxhall, and it
+seemed mean that he should condemn her for that. Thenceforward, when
+she ran against Tom, she cut him; he never tried to speak to her, but
+as she passed him, pretending to look in front of her, she could see
+that he always blushed, and she fancied his eyes were very sorrowful.
+Then several weeks went by, and as she began to feel more and more
+lonely in the street she regretted the quarrel; she cried a little as
+she thought that she had lost his faithful gentle love and she would
+have much liked to be friends with him again. If he had only made some
+advance she would have welcomed him so cordially, but she was too
+proud to go to him herself and beg him to forgive her--and then how
+could he forgive her?
+
+She had lost Sally too, for on her marriage Harry had made her give up
+the factory; he was a young man with principles worthy of a Member of
+Parliament, and he had said:
+
+'A woman's plice is 'er 'ome, an' if 'er old man can't afford ter keep
+'er without 'er workin' in a factory--well, all I can say is thet 'e'd
+better go an' git single.'
+
+'Quite right, too,' agreed his mother-in-law; 'an' wot's more, she'll
+'ave a baby ter look after soon, an' thet'll tike 'er all 'er time,
+an' there's no one as knows thet better than me, for I've 'ad twelve,
+ter sy nothin' of two stills an' one miss.'
+
+Liza quite envied Sally her happiness, for the bride was brimming
+over with song and laughter; her happiness overwhelmed her.
+
+'I am 'appy,' she said to Liza one day a few weeks after her marriage.
+'You dunno wot a good sort 'Arry is. 'E's just a darlin', an' there's
+no mistikin' it. I don't care wot other people sy, but wot I says is,
+there's nothin' like marriage. Never a cross word passes his lips, an'
+mother 'as all 'er meals with us an' 'e says all the better. Well I'm
+thet 'appy I simply dunno if I'm standin' on my 'ead or on my 'eels.'
+
+But alas! it did not last too long. Sally was not so full of joy when
+next Liza met her, and one day her eyes looked very much as if she had
+been crying.
+
+'Wot's the matter?' asked Liza, looking at her. 'Wot 'ave yer been
+blubberin' abaht?'
+
+'Me?' said Sally, getting very red. 'Oh, I've got a bit of a
+toothache, an'--well, I'm rather a fool like, an' it 'urt so much that
+I couldn't 'elp cryin'.'
+
+Liza was not satisfied, but could get nothing further out of her. Then
+one day it came out. It was a Saturday night, the time when women in
+Vere Street weep. Liza went up into Sally's room for a few minutes on
+her way to the Westminster Bridge Road, where she was to meet Jim.
+Harry had taken the top back room, and Liza, climbing up the second
+flight of stairs, called out as usual.
+
+'Wot ho, Sally!'
+
+The door remained shut, although Liza could see that there was a light
+in the room; but on getting to the door she stood still, for she heard
+the sound of sobbing. She listened for a minute and then knocked:
+there was a little flurry inside, and someone called out:
+
+''Oo's there?'
+
+'Only me,' said Liza, opening the door. As she did so she saw Sally
+rapidly wipe her eyes and put her handkerchief away. Her mother was
+sitting by her side, evidently comforting her.
+
+'Wot's up, Sal?' asked Liza.
+
+'Nothin',' answered Sally, with a brave little gasp to stop the
+crying, turning her face downwards so that Liza should not see the
+tears in her eyes; but they were too strong for her, and, quickly
+taking out her handkerchief, she hid her face in it and began to sob
+broken-heartedly. Liza looked at the mother in interrogation.
+
+'Oh, it's thet man again!' said the lady, snorting and tossing her
+head.
+
+'Not 'Arry?' asked Liza, in surprise.
+
+'Not 'Arry--'oo is it if it ain't 'Arry? The villin!'
+
+'Wot's 'e been doin', then?' asked Liza again.
+
+'Beatin' 'er, that's wot 'e's been doin'! Oh, the villin, 'e oughter
+be ashimed of 'isself 'e ought!'
+
+'I didn't know 'e was like that!' said Liza.
+
+'Didn't yer? I thought the 'ole street knew it by now,' said Mrs.
+Cooper indignantly. 'Oh, 'e's a wrong 'un, 'e is.'
+
+'It wasn't 'is fault,' put in Sally, amidst her sobs; 'it's only
+because 'e's 'ad a little drop too much. 'E's arright when 'e's
+sober.'
+
+'A little drop too much! I should just think 'e'd 'ad, the beast! I'd
+give it 'im if I was a man. They're all like thet--'usbinds is all
+alike; they're arright when they're sober--sometimes--but when they've
+got the liquor in 'em, they're beasts, an' no mistike. I 'ad a 'usbind
+myself for five-an'-twenty years, an' I know 'em.'
+
+'Well, mother,' sobbed Sally, 'it was all my fault. I should 'ave come
+'ome earlier.'
+
+'Na, it wasn't your fault at all. Just you look 'ere, Liza: this is
+wot 'e done an' call 'isself a man. Just because Sally'd gone aht to
+'ave a chat with Mrs. McLeod in the next 'ouse, when she come in 'e
+start bangin' 'er abaht. An' me, too, wot d'yer think of that!' Mrs.
+Cooper was quite purple with indignation.
+
+'Yus,' she went on, 'thet's a man for yer. Of course, I wasn't goin'
+ter stand there an' see my daughter bein' knocked abaht; it wasn't
+likely--was it? An' 'e rounds on me, an' 'e 'its me with 'is fist.
+Look 'ere.' She pulled up her sleeves and showed two red and brawny
+arms. ''E's bruised my arms; I thought 'e'd broken it at fust. If I
+'adn't put my arm up, 'e'd 'ave got me on the 'ead, an' 'e might 'ave
+killed me. An' I says to 'im, "If you touch me again, I'll go ter the
+police-station, thet I will!" Well, that frightened 'im a bit, an'
+then didn't I let 'im 'ave it! "You call yerself a man," says I, "an'
+you ain't fit ter clean the drains aht." You should 'ave 'eard the
+language 'e used. "You dirty old woman," says 'e, "you go away; you're
+always interferin' with me." Well, I don't like ter repeat wot 'e
+said, and thet's the truth. An' I says ter 'im, "I wish yer'd never
+married my daughter, an' if I'd known you was like this I'd 'ave died
+sooner than let yer."'
+
+'Well, I didn't know 'e was like thet!' said Liza.
+
+''E was arright at fust,' said Sally.
+
+'Yus, they're always arright at fust! But ter think it should 'ave
+come to this now, when they ain't been married three months, an' the
+first child not born yet! I think it's disgraceful.'
+
+Liza stayed a little while longer, helping to comfort Sally, who kept
+pathetically taking to herself all the blame of the dispute; and then,
+bidding her good night and better luck, she slid off to meet Jim.
+
+When she reached the appointed spot he was not to be found. She waited
+for some time, and at last saw him come out of the neighbouring pub.
+
+'Good night, Jim,' she said as she came up to him.
+
+'So you've turned up, 'ave yer?' he answered roughly, turning round.
+
+'Wot's the matter, Jim?' she asked in a frightened way, for he had
+never spoken to her in that manner.
+
+'Nice thing ter keep me witin' all night for yer to come aht.'
+
+She saw that he had been drinking, and answered humbly.
+
+'I'm very sorry, Jim, but I went in to Sally, an' 'er bloke 'ad been
+knockin' 'er abaht, an' so I sat with 'er a bit.'
+
+'Knockin' 'er abaht, 'ad 'e? and serve 'er damn well right too; an'
+there's many more as could do with a good 'idin'!'
+
+Liza did not answer. He looked at her, and then suddenly said:
+
+'Come in an' 'ave a drink.'
+
+'Na, I'm not thirsty; I don't want a drink,' she answered.
+
+'Come on,' he said angrily.
+
+'Na, Jim, you've had quite enough already.'
+
+''Oo are you talkin' ter?' he said. 'Don't come if yer don't want ter;
+I'll go an' 'ave one by myself.'
+
+'Na, Jim, don't.' She caught hold of his arm.
+
+'Yus, I shall,' he said, going towards the pub, while she held him
+back. 'Let me go, can't yer! Let me go!' He roughly pulled his arm
+away from her. As she tried to catch hold of it again, he pushed her
+back, and in the little scuffle caught her a blow over the face.
+
+'Oh!' she cried, 'you did 'urt!'
+
+He was sobered at once.
+
+'Liza,' he said. 'I ain't 'urt yer?' She didn't answer, and he took
+her in his arms. 'Liza, I ain't 'urt you, 'ave I? Say I ain't 'urt
+yer. I'm so sorry, I beg your pardon, Liza.'
+
+'Arright, old chap,' she said, smiling charmingly on him. 'It wasn't
+the blow that 'urt me much; it was the wy you was talkin'.'
+
+'I didn't mean it, Liza.' He was so contrite, he could not humble
+himself enough. 'I 'ad another bloomin' row with the missus ter-night,
+an' then when I didn't find you 'ere, an' I kept witin' an'
+witin'--well, I fair downright lost my 'air. An' I 'ad two or three
+pints of four 'alf, an'--well, I dunno--'
+
+'Never mind, old cock. I can stand more than thet as long as yer loves
+me.'
+
+He kissed her and they were quite friends again. But the little
+quarrel had another effect which was worse for Liza. When she woke up
+next morning she noticed a slight soreness over the ridge of bone
+under the left eye, and on looking in the glass saw that it was black
+and blue and green. She bathed it, but it remained, and seemed to get
+more marked. She was terrified lest people should see it, and kept
+indoors all day; but next morning it was blacker than ever. She went
+to the factory with her hat over her eyes and her head bent down; she
+escaped observation, but on the way home she was not so lucky. The
+sharp eyes of some girls noticed it first.
+
+'Wot's the matter with yer eye?' asked one of them.
+
+'Me?' answered Liza, putting her hand up as if in ignorance. 'Nothin'
+thet I knows of.'
+
+Two or three young men were standing by, and hearing the girl, looked
+up.
+
+'Why, yer've got a black eye, Liza!'
+
+'Me? I ain't got no black eye!'
+
+'Yus you 'ave; 'ow d'yer get it?'
+
+'I dunno,' said Liza. 'I didn't know I 'ad one.'
+
+'Garn! tell us another!' was the answer. 'One doesn't git a black eye
+without knowin' 'ow they got it.'
+
+'Well, I did fall against the chest of drawers yesterday; I suppose I
+must 'ave got it then.'
+
+'Oh yes, we believe thet, don't we?'
+
+'I didn't know 'e was so 'andy with 'is dukes, did you, Ted?' asked
+one man of another.
+
+Liza felt herself grow red to the tips of her toes.
+
+'Who?' she asked.
+
+'Never you mind; nobody you know.'
+
+At that moment Jim's wife passed and looked at her with a scowl. Liza
+wished herself a hundred miles away, and blushed more violently than
+ever.
+
+'Wot are yer blushin' abaht?' ingenuously asked one of the girls.
+
+And they all looked from her to Mrs. Blakeston and back again. Someone
+said: ''Ow abaht our Sunday boots on now?' And a titter went through
+them. Liza's nerve deserted her; she could think of nothing to say,
+and a sob burst from her. To hide the tears which were coming from her
+eyes she turned away and walked homewards. Immediately a great shout
+of laughter broke from the group, and she heard them positively
+screaming till she got into her own house.
+
+
+
+
+11
+
+
+A few days afterwards Liza was talking with Sally, who did not seem
+very much happier than when Liza had last seen her.
+
+''E ain't wot I thought 'e wos,' she said. 'I don't mind sayin' thet;
+but 'e 'as a lot ter put up with; I expect I'm rather tryin'
+sometimes, an' 'e means well. P'raps 'e'll be kinder like when the
+biby's born.'
+
+'Cheer up, old gal,' answered Liza, who had seen something of the
+lives of many married couples; 'it won't seem so bad after yer gets
+used to it; it's a bit disappointin' at fust, but yer gits not ter
+mind it.'
+
+After a little Sally said she must go and see about her husband's tea.
+She said good-bye, and then rather awkwardly:
+
+'Say, Liza, tike care of yerself!'
+
+'Tike care of meself--why?' asked Liza, in surprise.
+
+'Yer know wot I mean.'
+
+'Na, I'm darned if I do.'
+
+'Thet there Mrs. Blakeston, she's lookin' aht for you.'
+
+'Mrs. Blakeston!' Liza was startled.
+
+'Yus; she says she's goin' ter give you somethin' if she can git 'old
+on yer. I should advise yer ter tike care.'
+
+'Me?' said Liza.
+
+Sally looked away, so as not to see the other's face.
+
+'She says as 'ow yer've been messin' abaht with 'er old man.'
+
+Liza didn't say anything, and Sally, repeating her good-bye, slid off.
+
+Liza felt a chill run through her. She had several times noticed a
+scowl and a look of anger on Mrs. Blakeston's face, and she had avoided
+her as much as possible; but she had no idea that the woman meant to
+do anything to her. She was very frightened, a cold sweat broke out
+over her face. If Mrs. Blakeston got hold of her she would be helpless,
+she was so small and weak, while the other was strong and muscular.
+Liza wondered what she would do if she did catch her.
+
+That night she told Jim, and tried to make a joke of it.
+
+'I say, Jim, your missus--she says she's goin' ter give me socks if
+she catches me.'
+
+'My missus! 'Ow d'yer know?'
+
+'She's been tellin' people in the street.'
+
+'Go' lumme,' said Jim, furious, 'if she dares ter touch a 'air of your
+'ead, swop me dicky I'll give 'er sich a 'idin' as she never 'ad
+before! By God, give me the chanst, an' I would let 'er 'ave it; I'm
+bloomin' well sick of 'er sulks!' He clenched his fist as he spoke.
+
+Liza was a coward. She could not help thinking of her enemy's threat;
+it got on her nerves, and she hardly dared go out for fear of meeting
+her; she would look nervously in front of her, quickly turning round
+if she saw in the distance anyone resembling Mrs. Blakeston. She
+dreamed of her at night; she saw the big, powerful form, the heavy,
+frowning face, and the curiously braided brown hair; and she would
+wake up with a cry and find herself bathed in sweat.
+
+It was the Saturday afternoon following this, a chill November day,
+with the roads sloshy, and a grey, comfortless sky that made one's
+spirits sink. It was about three o'clock, and Liza was coming home
+from work; she got into Vere Street, and was walking quickly towards
+her house when she saw Mrs. Blakeston coming towards her. Her heart
+gave a great jump. Turning, she walked rapidly in the direction she
+had come; with a screw round of her eyes she saw that she was being
+followed, and therefore went straight out of Vere Street. She went
+right round, meaning to get into the street from the other end and,
+unobserved, slip into her house, which was then quite close; but she
+dared not risk it immediately for fear Mrs. Blakeston should still be
+there; so she waited about for half an hour. It seemed an age.
+Finally, taking her courage in both hands, she turned the corner and
+entered Vere Street. She nearly ran into the arms of Mrs. Blakeston,
+who was standing close to the public-house door.
+
+Liza gave a little cry, and the woman said, with a sneer:
+
+'Yer didn't expect ter see me, did yer?'
+
+Liza did not answer, but tried to walk past her. Mrs. Blakeston stepped
+forward and blocked her way.
+
+'Yer seem ter be in a mighty fine 'urry,' she said.
+
+'Yus, I've got ter git 'ome,' said Liza, again trying to pass.
+
+'But supposin' I don't let yer?' remarked Mrs. Blakeston, preventing
+her from moving.
+
+'Why don't yer leave me alone?' Liza said. 'I ain't interferin' with
+you!'
+
+'Not interferin' with me, aren't yer? I like thet!'
+
+'Let me go by,' said Liza. 'I don't want ter talk ter you.'
+
+'Na, I know thet,' said the other; 'but I want ter talk ter you, an' I
+shan't let yer go until I've said wot I wants ter sy.'
+
+Liza looked round for help. At the beginning of the altercation the
+loafers about the public-house had looked up with interest, and
+gradually gathered round in a little circle. Passers-by had joined in,
+and a number of other people in the street, seeing the crowd, added
+themselves to it to see what was going on. Liza saw that all eyes were
+fixed on her, the men amused and excited, the women unsympathetic,
+rather virtuously indignant. Liza wanted to ask for help, but there
+were so many people, and they all seemed so much against her, that she
+had not the courage to. So, having surveyed the crowd, she turned her
+eyes to Mrs. Blakeston, and stood in front of her, trembling a little,
+and very white.
+
+'Na, 'e ain't there,' said Mrs. Blakeston, sneeringly, 'so yer needn't
+look for 'im.'
+
+'I dunno wot yer mean,' answered Liza, 'an' I want ter go awy. I ain't
+done nothin' ter you.'
+
+'Not done nothin' ter me?' furiously repeated the woman. 'I'll tell
+yer wot yer've done ter me--you've robbed me of my 'usbind, you 'ave.
+I never 'ad a word with my 'usbind until you took 'im from me. An' now
+it's all you with 'im. 'E's got no time for 'is wife an' family--it's
+all you. An' 'is money, too. I never git a penny of it; if it weren't
+for the little bit I 'ad saved up in the siving-bank, me an' my
+children 'ud be starvin' now! An' all through you!' She shook her fist
+at her.
+
+'I never 'ad any money from anyone.'
+
+'Don' talk ter me; I know yer did. Yer dirty bitch! You oughter be
+ishimed of yourself tikin' a married man from 'is family, an' 'im old
+enough ter be yer father.'
+
+'She's right there!' said one or two of the onlooking women. 'There
+can't be no good in 'er if she tikes somebody else's 'usbind.'
+
+'I'll give it yer!' proceeded Mrs. Blakeston, getting more hot and
+excited, brandishing her fist, and speaking in a loud voice, hoarse
+with rage. 'Oh, I've been tryin' ter git 'old on yer this four weeks.
+Why, you're a prostitute--that's wot you are!'
+
+'I'm not!' answered Liza indignantly.
+
+'Yus, you are,' repeated Mrs. Blakeston, advancing menacingly, so that
+Liza shrank back. 'An' wot's more, 'e treats yer like one. I know 'oo
+give yer thet black eye; thet shows what 'e thinks of yer! An' serve
+yer bloomin' well right if 'e'd give yer one in both eyes!'
+
+Mrs. Blakeston stood close in front of her, her heavy jaw protruded and
+the frown of her eyebrows dark and stern. For a moment she stood
+silent, contemplating Liza, while the surrounders looked on in
+breathless interest.
+
+'Yer dirty little bitch, you!' she said at last. 'Tike that!' and with
+her open hand she gave her a sharp smack on the cheek.
+
+Liza started back with a cry and put her hand up to her face.
+
+'An' tike thet!' added Mrs. Blakeston, repeating the blow. Then,
+gathering up the spittle in her mouth, she spat in Liza's face.
+
+Liza sprang on her, and with her hands spread out like claws buried
+her nails in the woman's face and drew them down her cheeks. Mrs.
+Blakeston caught hold of her hair with both hands and tugged at it as
+hard as she could. But they were immediately separated.
+
+''Ere, 'old 'ard!' said some of the men. 'Fight it aht fair and
+square. Don't go scratchin' and maulin' like thet.'
+
+'I'll fight 'er, I don't mind!' shouted Mrs. Blakeston, tucking up her
+sleeves and savagely glaring at her opponent.
+
+Liza stood in front of her, pale and trembling; as she looked at her
+enemy, and saw the long red marks of her nails, with blood coming from
+one or two of them, she shrank back.
+
+'I don't want ter fight,' she said hoarsely.
+
+'Na, I don't suppose yer do,' hissed the other, 'but yer'll damn well
+'ave ter!'
+
+'She's ever so much bigger than me; I've got no chanst,' added Liza
+tearfully.
+
+'You should 'ave thought of thet before. Come on!' and with these
+words Mrs. Blakeston rushed upon her. She hit her with both fists one
+after the other. Liza did not try to guard herself, but imitating the
+woman's motion, hit out with her own fists; and for a minute or two
+they continued thus, raining blows on one another with the same
+windmill motion of the arms. But Liza could not stand against the
+other woman's weight; the blows came down heavy and rapid all over her
+face and head. She put up her hands to cover her face and turned her
+head away, while Mrs. Blakeston kept on hitting mercilessly.
+
+'Time!' shouted some of the men--'Time!' and Mrs. Blakeston stopped to
+rest herself.
+
+'It don't seem 'ardly fair to set them two on tergether. Liza's got no
+chanst against a big woman like thet,' said a man among the crowd.
+
+'Well, it's er' own fault,' answered a woman; 'she didn't oughter mess
+about with 'er 'usbind.'
+
+'Well, I don't think it's right,' added another man. 'She's gettin' it
+too much.'
+
+'An' serve 'er right too!' said one of the women. 'She deserves all
+she gets an' a damn sight more inter the bargain.'
+
+'Quite right,' put in a third; 'a woman's got no right ter tike
+someone's 'usbind from 'er. An' if she does she's bloomin' lucky if
+she gits off with a 'idin'--thet's wot I think.'
+
+'So do I. But I wouldn't 'ave thought it of Liza. I never thought she
+was a wrong 'un.'
+
+'Pretty specimen she is!' said a little dark woman, who looked like a
+Jewess. 'If she messed abaht with my old man, I'd stick 'er--I swear I
+would!'
+
+'Now she's been carryin' on with one, she'll try an' git others--you
+see if she don't.'
+
+'She'd better not come round my 'ouse; I'll soon give 'er wot for.'
+
+Meanwhile Liza was standing at one corner of the ring, trembling all
+over and crying bitterly. One of her eyes was bunged up, and her hair,
+all dishevelled, was hanging down over her face. Two young fellows,
+who had constituted themselves her seconds, were standing in front of
+her, offering rather ironical comfort. One of them had taken the
+bottom corners of her apron and was fanning her with it, while the
+other was showing her how to stand and hold her arms.
+
+'You stand up to 'er, Liza,' he was saying; 'there ain't no good
+funkin' it, you'll simply get it all the worse. You 'it 'er back. Give
+'er one on the boko, like this--see; yer must show a bit of pluck, yer
+know.'
+
+Liza tried to check her sobs.
+
+'Yus, 'it 'er 'ard, that's wot yer've got ter do,' said the other.
+'An' if yer find she's gettin' the better on yer, you close on 'er and
+catch 'old of 'er 'air and scratch 'er.'
+
+'You've marked 'er with yer nails, Liza. By gosh, you did fly on her
+when she spat at yer! thet's the way ter do the job!'
+
+Then turning to his fellow, he said:
+
+'D'yer remember thet fight as old Mother Cregg 'ad with another woman
+in the street last year?'
+
+'Na,' he answered, 'I never saw thet.'
+
+'It was a cawker; an' the cops come in and took 'em both off ter
+quod.'
+
+Liza wished the policemen would come and take her off; she would
+willingly have gone to prison to escape the fiend in front of her; but
+no help came.
+
+'Time's up!' shouted the referee. 'Fire away!'
+
+'Tike care of the cops!' shouted a man.
+
+'There's no fear abaht them,' answered somebody else. 'They always
+keeps out of the way when there's anythin' goin' on.'
+
+'Fire away!'
+
+Mrs. Blakeston attacked Liza madly; but the girl stood up bravely, and
+as well as she could gave back the blows she received. The spectators
+grew tremendously excited.
+
+'Got 'im again!' they shouted. 'Give it 'er, Liza, thet's a good
+'un!--'it 'er 'ard!'
+
+'Two ter one on the old 'un!' shouted a sporting gentleman; but Liza
+found no backers.
+
+'Ain't she standin' up well now she's roused?' cried someone.
+
+'Oh, she's got some pluck in 'er, she 'as!'
+
+'Thet's a knock-aht!' they shouted as Mrs. Blakeston brought her fist
+down on to Liza's nose; the girl staggered back, and blood began to
+flow. Then, losing all fear, mad with rage, she made a rush on her
+enemy, and rained down blows all over her nose and eyes and mouth. The
+woman recoiled at the sudden violence of the onslaught, and the men
+cried:
+
+'By God, the little 'un's gettin' the best of it!'
+
+But quickly recovering herself the woman closed with Liza, and dug her
+nails into her flesh. Liza caught hold of her hair and pulled with all
+her might, and turning her teeth on Mrs. Blakeston tried to bite her.
+And thus for a minute they swayed about, scratching, tearing, biting,
+sweat and blood pouring down their faces, and their eyes fixed on one
+another, bloodshot and full of rage. The audience shouted and cheered
+and clapped their hands.
+
+'Wot the 'ell's up 'ere?'
+
+'I sy, look there,' said some of the women in a whisper. 'It's the
+'usbind!'
+
+He stood on tiptoe and looked over the crowd.
+
+'My Gawd,' he said, 'it's Liza!'
+
+Then roughly pushing the people aside, he made his way through the
+crowd into the centre, and thrusting himself between the two women,
+tore them apart. He turned furiously on his wife.
+
+'By Gawd, I'll give yer somethin' for this!'
+
+And for a moment they all three stood silently looking at one another.
+
+Another man had been attracted by the crowd, and he, too, pushed his
+way through.
+
+'Come 'ome, Liza,' he said.
+
+'Tom!'
+
+He took hold of her arm, and led her through the people, who gave way
+to let her pass. They walked silently through the street, Tom very
+grave, Liza weeping bitterly.
+
+'Oh, Tom,' she sobbed after a while, 'I couldn't 'elp it!' Then, when
+her tears permitted, 'I did love 'im so!'
+
+When they got to the door she plaintively said: 'Come in,' and he
+followed her to her room. Here she sank on to a chair, and gave
+herself up to her tears.
+
+Tom wetted the end of a towel and began wiping her face, grimy with
+blood and tears. She let him do it, just moaning amid her sobs:
+
+'You are good ter me, Tom.'
+
+'Cheer up, old gal,' he said kindly, 'it's all over now.'
+
+After a while the excess of crying brought its cessation. She drank
+some water, and then taking up a broken handglass she looked at
+herself, saying:
+
+'I am a sight!' and proceeded to wind up her hair. 'You 'ave been good
+ter me, Tom,' she repeated, her voice still broken with sobs; and as
+he sat down beside her she took his hand.
+
+'Na, I ain't,' he answered; 'it's only wot anybody 'ud 'ave done.'
+
+'Yer know, Tom,' she said, after a little silence, 'I'm so sorry I
+spoke cross like when I met yer in the street; you ain't spoke ter me
+since.'
+
+'Oh, thet's all over now, old lidy, we needn't think of thet.'
+
+'Oh, but I 'ave treated yer bad. I'm a regular wrong 'un, I am.'
+
+He pressed her hand without speaking.
+
+'I say, Tom,' she began, after another pause. 'Did yer know
+thet--well, you know--before ter-day?'
+
+He blushed as he answered:
+
+'Yus.'
+
+She spoke very sadly and slowly.
+
+'I thought yer did; yer seemed so cut up like when I used to meet yer.
+Yer did love me then, Tom, didn't yer?'
+
+'I do now, dearie,' he answered.
+
+'Ah, it's too lite now,' she sighed.
+
+'D'yer know, Liza,' he said, 'I just abaht kicked the life aht of a
+feller 'cause 'e said you was messin' abaht with--with 'im.'
+
+'An' yer knew I was?'
+
+'Yus--but I wasn't goin' ter 'ave anyone say it before me.'
+
+'They've all rounded on me except you, Tom. I'd 'ave done better if
+I'd tiken you when you arst me; I shouldn't be where I am now, if I
+'ad.'
+
+'Well, won't yer now? Won't yer 'ave me now?'
+
+'Me? After wot's 'appened?'
+
+'Oh, I don't mind abaht thet. Thet don't matter ter me if you'll marry
+me. I fair can't live without yer, Liza--won't yer?'
+
+She groaned.
+
+'Na, I can't, Tom, it wouldn't be right.'
+
+'Why, not, if I don't mind?'
+
+'Tom,' she said, looking down, almost whispering, 'I'm like that--you
+know!'
+
+'Wot d'yer mean?'
+
+She could scarcely utter the words--
+
+'I think I'm in the family wy.'
+
+He paused a moment; then spoke again.
+
+'Well--I don't mind, if yer'll only marry me.'
+
+'Na, I can't, Tom,' she said, bursting into tears; 'I can't, but you
+are so good ter me; I'd do anythin' ter mike it up ter you.'
+
+She put her arms round his neck and slid on to his knees.
+
+'Yer know, Tom, I couldn't marry yer now; but anythin' else--if yer
+wants me ter do anythin' else, I'll do it if it'll mike you 'appy.'
+
+He did not understand, but only said:
+
+'You're a good gal, Liza,' and bending down he kissed her gravely on
+the forehead.
+
+Then with a sigh he lifted her down, and getting up left her alone.
+For a while she sat where he left her, but as she thought of all she
+had gone through her loneliness and misery overcame her, the tears
+welled forth, and throwing herself on the bed she buried her face in
+the pillows.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jim stood looking at Liza as she went off with Tom, and his wife
+watched him jealously.
+
+'It's 'er you're thinkin' abaht. Of course you'd 'ave liked ter tike
+'er 'ome yerself, I know, an' leave me to shift for myself.'
+
+'Shut up!' said Jim, angrily turning upon her.
+
+'I shan't shut up,' she answered, raising her voice. 'Nice 'usbind you
+are. Go' lumme, as good as they mike 'em! Nice thing ter go an' leave
+yer wife and children for a thing like thet! At your age, too! You
+oughter be ashimed of yerself. Why, it's like messin' abaht with your
+own daughter!'
+
+'By God!'--he ground his teeth with rage--'if yer don't leave me
+alone, I'll kick the life aht of yer!'
+
+'There!' she said, turning to the crowd--'there, see 'ow 'e treats me!
+Listen ter that! I've been 'is wife for twenty years, an' yer couldn't
+'ave 'ad a better wife, an' I've bore 'im nine children, yet say
+nothin' of a miscarriage, an' I've got another comin', an' thet's 'ow
+'e treats me! Nice 'usbind, ain't it?' She looked at him scornfully,
+then again at the surrounders as if for their opinion.
+
+'Well, I ain't goin' ter stay 'ere all night; get aht of the light!'
+He pushed aside the people who barred his way, and the one or two who
+growled a little at his roughness, looking at his angry face, were
+afraid to complain.
+
+'Look at 'im!' said his wife. ''E's afraid, 'e is. See 'im slinkin'
+awy like a bloomin' mongrel with 'is tail between 'is legs. Ugh!' She
+walked just behind him, shouting and brandishing her arms.
+
+'Yer dirty beast, you,' she yelled, 'ter go foolin' abaht with a
+little girl! Ugh! I wish yer wasn't my 'usbind; I wouldn't be seen
+drowned with yer, if I could 'elp it. Yer mike me sick ter look at
+yer.'
+
+The crowd followed them on both sides of the road, keeping at a
+discreet distance, but still eagerly listening.
+
+Jim turned on her once or twice and said:
+
+'Shut up!'
+
+But it only made her more angry. 'I tell yer I shan't shut up. I don't
+care 'oo knows it, you're a ----, you are! I'm ashimed the children
+should 'ave such a father as you. D'yer think I didn't know wot you
+was up ter them nights you was awy--courtin', yus, courtin'? You're a
+nice man, you are!'
+
+Jim did not answer her, but walked on. At last he turned round to the
+people who were following and said:
+
+'Na then, wot d'you want 'ere? You jolly well clear, or I'll give some
+of you somethin'!'
+
+They were mostly boys and women, and at his words they shrank back.
+
+''E's afraid ter sy anythin' ter me,' jeered Mrs. Blakeston. ''E's a
+beauty!'
+
+Jim entered his house, and she followed him till they came up into
+their room. Polly was giving the children their tea. They all started
+up as they saw their mother with her hair and clothes in disorder,
+blotches of dried blood on her face, and the long scratch-marks.
+
+'Oh, mother,' said Polly, 'wot is the matter?'
+
+''E's the matter.' she answered, pointing to her husband. 'It's
+through 'im I've got all this. Look at yer father, children; e's a
+father to be proud of, leavin' yer ter starve an' spendin' 'is week's
+money on a dirty little strumper.'
+
+Jim felt easier now he had not got so many strange eyes on him.
+
+'Now, look 'ere,' he said, 'I'm not goin' ter stand this much longer,
+so just you tike care.'
+
+'I ain't frightened of yer. I know yer'd like ter kill me, but yer'll
+get strung up if you do.'
+
+'Na, I won't kill yer, but if I 'ave any more of your sauce I'll do
+the next thing to it.'
+
+'Touch me if yer dare,' she said, 'I'll 'ave the law on you. An' I
+shouldn't mind 'ow many month's 'ard you got.'
+
+'Be quiet!' he said, and, closing his hand, gave her a heavy blow in
+the chest that made her stagger.
+
+'Oh, you ----!' she screamed.
+
+She seized the poker, and in a fury of rage rushed at him.
+
+'Would yer?' he said, catching hold of it and wrenching it from her
+grasp. He threw it to the end of the room and grappled with her. For a
+moment they swayed about from side to side, then with an effort he
+lifted her off her feet and threw her to the ground; but she caught
+hold of him and he came down on the top of her. She screamed as her
+head thumped down on the floor, and the children, who were standing
+huddled up in a corner, terrified, screamed too.
+
+Jim caught hold of his wife's head and began beating it against the
+floor.
+
+She cried out: 'You're killing me! Help! help!'
+
+Polly in terror ran up to her father and tried to pull him off.
+
+'Father, don't 'it 'er! Anythin' but thet--for God's sike!'
+
+'Leave me alone,' he said, 'or I'll give you somethin' too.'
+
+She caught hold of his arm, but Jim, still kneeling on his wife, gave
+Polly a backhanded blow which sent her staggering back.
+
+'Tike that!'
+
+Polly ran out of the room, downstairs to the first-floor front, where
+two men and two women were sitting at tea.
+
+'Oh, come an' stop father!' she cried. ''E's killin' mother!'
+
+'Why, wot's 'e doin'?'
+
+'Oh, 'e's got 'er on the floor, an' 'e's bangin' 'er 'ead. 'E's payin'
+'er aht for givin' Liza Kemp a 'idin'.'
+
+One of the women started up and said to her husband:
+
+'Come on, John, you go an' stop it.'
+
+'Don't you, John,' said the other man. 'When a man's givin' 'is wife
+socks it's best not ter interfere.'
+
+'But 'e's killin' 'er,' repeated Polly, trembling with fright.
+
+'Garn!' rejoined the man, 'she'll git over it; an' p'raps she deserves
+it, for all you know.'
+
+John sat undecided, looking now at Polly, now at his wife, and now at
+the other man.
+
+'Oh, do be quick--for God's sike!' said Polly.
+
+At that moment a sound as of something smashing was heard upstairs,
+and a woman's shriek. Mrs. Blakeston, in an effort to tear herself away
+from her husband, had knocked up against the wash-hand stand, and the
+whole thing had crashed down.
+
+'Go on, John,' said the wife.
+
+'No, I ain't goin'; I shan't do no good, an' 'e'll only round on me.'
+
+'Well, you are a bloomin' lot of cowards, thet's all I can say,'
+indignantly answered the wife. 'But I ain't goin' ter see a woman
+murdered; I'll go an' stop 'im.'
+
+With that she ran upstairs and threw open the door. Jim was still
+kneeling on his wife, hitting her furiously, while she was trying to
+protect her head and face with her hands.
+
+'Leave off!' shouted the woman.
+
+Jim looked up. ''Oo the devil are you?' he said.
+
+'Leave off, I tell yer. Aren't yer ashimed of yerself, knockin' a
+woman abaht like that?' And she sprang at him, seizing his fist.
+
+'Let go,' he said, 'or I'll give you a bit.'
+
+'Yer'd better not touch me,' she said. 'Yer dirty coward! Why, look at
+'er, she's almost senseless.'
+
+Jim stopped and gazed at his wife. He got up and gave her a kick.
+
+'Git up!' he said; but she remained huddled up on the floor, moaning
+feebly. The woman from downstairs went on her knees and took her head
+in her arms.
+
+'Never mind, Mrs. Blakeston. 'E's not goin' ter touch yer. 'Ere, drink
+this little drop of water.' Then turning to Jim, with infinite
+disdain: 'Yer dirty blackguard, you! If I was a man I'd give you
+something for this.'
+
+Jim put on his hat and went out, slamming the door, while the woman
+shouted after him: 'Good riddance!'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'Lord love yer,' said Mrs. Kemp, 'wot is the matter?'
+
+She had just come in, and opening the door had started back in
+surprise at seeing Liza on the bed, all tears. Liza made no answer,
+but cried as if her heart were breaking. Mrs. Kemp went up to her and
+tried to look at her face.
+
+'Don't cry, dearie; tell us wot it is.'
+
+Liza sat up and dried her eyes.
+
+'I am so un'appy!'
+
+'Wot 'ave yer been doin' ter yer fice? My!'
+
+'Nothin'.'
+
+'Garn! Yer can't 'ave got a fice like thet all by itself.'
+
+'I 'ad a bit of a scrimmage with a woman dahn the street,' sobbed out
+Liza.
+
+'She 'as give yer a doin'; an' yer all upset--an' look at yer eye! I
+brought in a little bit of stike for ter-morrer's dinner; you just cut
+a bit off an' put it over yer optic, that'll soon put it right. I
+always used ter do thet myself when me an' your poor father 'ad
+words.'
+
+'Oh, I'm all over in a tremble, an' my 'ead, oo, my 'ead does feel
+bad!'
+
+'I know wot yer want,' remarked Mrs. Kemp, nodding her head, 'an' it so
+'appens as I've got the very thing with me.' She pulled a medicine
+bottle out of her pocket, and taking out the cork smelt it. 'Thet's
+good stuff, none of your firewater or your methylated spirit. I don't
+often indulge in sich things, but when I do I likes to 'ave the best.'
+
+She handed the bottle to Liza, who took a mouthful and gave it her
+back; she had a drink herself, and smacked her lips.
+
+Thet's good stuff. 'Ave a drop more.'
+
+'Na,' said Liza, 'I ain't used ter drinkin' spirits.'
+
+She felt dull and miserable, and a heavy pain throbbed through her
+head. If she could only forget!
+
+'Na, I know you're not, but, bless your soul, thet won' 'urt yer.
+It'll do you no end of good. Why, often when I've been feelin' thet
+done up thet I didn't know wot ter do with myself, I've just 'ad a
+little drop of whisky or gin--I'm not partic'ler wot spirit it is--an'
+it's pulled me up wonderful.'
+
+Liza took another sip, a slightly longer one; it burnt as it went down
+her throat, and sent through her a feeling of comfortable warmth.
+
+'I really do think it's doin' me good,' she said, wiping her eyes and
+giving a sigh of relief as the crying ceased.
+
+'I knew it would. Tike my word for it, if people took a little drop of
+spirits in time, there'd be much less sickness abaht.'
+
+They sat for a while in silence, then Mrs. Kemp remarked:
+
+'Yer know, Liza, it strikes me as 'ow we could do with a drop more.
+You not bein' in the 'abit of tikin' anythin' I only brought just this
+little drop for me; an' it ain't took us long ter finish thet up. But
+as you're an invalid like we'll git a little more this time; it's sure
+ter turn aht useful.'
+
+'But you ain't got nothin' ter put it in.'
+
+'Yus, I 'ave,' answered Mrs. Kemp; 'there's thet bottle as they gives
+me at the 'orspital. Just empty the medicine aht into the pile, an'
+wash it aht, an' I'll tike it round to the pub myself.'
+
+Liza, when she was left alone, began to turn things over in her mind.
+She did not feel so utterly unhappy as before, for the things she had
+gone through seemed further away.
+
+'After all,' she said, 'it don't so much matter.'
+
+Mrs. Kemp came in.
+
+''Ave a little drop more, Liza.' she said.
+
+'Well, I don't mind if I do. I'll get some tumblers, shall I? There's
+no mistike abaht it,' she added, when she had taken a little, 'it do
+buck yer up.'
+
+'You're right, Liza--you're right. An' you wanted it badly. Fancy you
+'avin' a fight with a woman! Oh, I've 'ad some in my day, but then I
+wasn't a little bit of a thing like you is. I wish I'd been there, I
+wouldn't 'ave stood by an' looked on while my daughter was gettin' the
+worst of it; although I'm turned sixty-five, an' gettin' on for
+sixty-six, I'd 'ave said to 'er: "If you touch my daughter you'll 'ave
+me ter deal with, so just look aht!"'
+
+She brandished her glass, and that reminding her, she refilled it and
+Liza's.
+
+'Ah, Liza,' she remarked, 'you're a chip of the old block. Ter see you
+settin' there an' 'avin' your little drop, it mikes me feel as if I
+was livin' a better life. Yer used ter be rather 'ard on me, Liza,
+'cause I took a little drop on Saturday nights. An', mind, I don't sy
+I didn't tike a little drop too much sometimes--accidents will occur
+even in the best regulated of families, but wot I say is this--it's
+good stuff, I say, an' it don't 'urt yer.'
+
+'Buck up, old gal!' said Liza, filling the glasses, 'no 'eel-taps. I
+feel like a new woman now. I was thet dahn in the dumps--well, I
+shouldn't 'ave cared if I'd been at the bottom of the river, an'
+thet's the truth.'
+
+'You don't sy so,' replied her affectionate mother.
+
+'Yus, I do, an' I mean it too, but I don't feel like thet now. You're
+right, mother, when you're in trouble there's nothin' like a bit of
+spirits.'
+
+'Well, if I don't know, I dunno 'oo does, for the trouble I've 'ad, it
+'ud be enough to kill many women. Well, I've 'ad thirteen children,
+an' you can think wot thet was; everyone I 'ad I used ter sy I
+wouldn't 'ave no more--but one does, yer know. You'll 'ave a family
+some day, Liza, an' I shouldn't wonder if you didn't 'ave as many as
+me. We come from a very prodigal family, we do, we've all gone in ter
+double figures, except your Aunt Mary, who only 'ad three--but then
+she wasn't married, so it didn't count, like.'
+
+They drank each other's health. Everything was getting blurred to
+Liza, she was losing her head.
+
+'Yus,' went on Mrs. Kemp, 'I've 'ad thirteen children an' I'm proud of
+it. As your poor dear father used ter sy, it shows as 'ow one's got
+the blood of a Briton in one. Your poor dear father, 'e was a great
+'and at speakin' 'e was: 'e used ter speak at parliamentary
+meetin's--I really believe 'e'd 'ave been a Member of Parliament if
+'e'd been alive now. Well, as I was sayin', your father 'e used ter
+sy, "None of your small families for me, I don't approve of them,"
+says 'e. 'E was a man of very 'igh principles, an' by politics 'e was
+a Radical. "No," says 'e, when 'e got talkin', "when a man can 'ave a
+family risin' into double figures, it shows 'e's got the backbone of a
+Briton in 'im. That's the stuff as 'as built up England's nime and
+glory! When one thinks of the mighty British Hempire," says 'e, "on
+which the sun never sets from mornin' till night, one 'as ter be proud
+of 'isself, an' one 'as ter do one's duty in thet walk of life in
+which it 'as pleased Providence ter set one--an' every man's fust duty
+is ter get as many children as 'e bloomin' well can." Lord love
+yer--'e could talk, I can tell yer.'
+
+'Drink up, mother,' said Liza. 'You're not 'alf drinkin'.' She
+flourished the bottle. 'I don't care a twopanny 'ang for all them
+blokes; I'm quite 'appy, an' I don't want anythin' else.'
+
+'I can see you're my daughter now,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'When yer used ter
+round on me I used ter think as 'ow if I 'adn't carried yer for nine
+months, it must 'ave been some mistike, an' yer wasn't my daughter at
+all. When you come ter think of it, a man 'e don't know if it's 'is
+child or somebody else's, but yer can't deceive a woman like thet. Yer
+couldn't palm off somebody else's kid on 'er.'
+
+'I am beginnin' ter feel quite lively,' said Liza. 'I dunno wot it is,
+but I feel as if I wanted to laugh till I fairly split my sides.'
+
+And she began to sing: 'For 'e's a jolly good feller--for 'e's a jolly
+good feller!'
+
+Her dress was all disarranged; her face covered with the scars of
+scratches, and clots of blood had fixed under her nose; her eye had
+swollen up so that it was nearly closed, and red; her hair was hanging
+over her face and shoulders, and she laughed stupidly and leered with
+heavy, sodden ugliness.
+
+    'Disy, Disy! I can't afford a kerridge.
+     But you'll look neat, on the seat
+       Of a bicycle mide for two.'
+
+She shouted out the tunes, beating time on the table, and her mother,
+grinning, with her thin, grey hair hanging dishevelled over her head,
+joined in with her weak, cracked voice--
+
+    'Oh, dem golden kippers, oh!'
+
+Then Liza grew more melancholy and broke into 'Auld Lang Syne'.
+
+    'Should old acquaintance be forgot
+       And never brought to mind?
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+       For old lang syne'.
+
+Finally they both grew silent, and in a little while there came a
+snore from Mrs. Kemp; her head fell forward to her chest; Liza tumbled
+from her chair on to the bed, and sprawling across it fell asleep.
+
+    '_Although I am drunk and bad, be you kind,
+    Cast a glance at this heart which is bewildered and distressed.
+    O God, take away from my mind my cry and my complaint.
+    Offer wine, and take sorrow from my remembrance.
+    Offer wine._'
+
+
+
+
+12
+
+
+About the middle of the night Liza woke; her mouth was hot and dry,
+and a sharp, cutting pain passed through her head as she moved. Her
+mother had evidently roused herself, for she was lying in bed by her
+side, partially undressed, with all the bedclothes rolled round her.
+Liza shivered in the cold night, and taking off some of her
+things--her boots, her skirt, and jacket--got right into bed; she
+tried to get some of the blanket from her mother, but as she pulled
+Mrs. Kemp gave a growl in her sleep and drew the clothes more tightly
+round her. So Liza put over herself her skirt and a shawl, which was
+lying over the end of the bed, and tried to go to sleep.
+
+But she could not; her head and hands were broiling hot, and she was
+terribly thirsty; when she lifted herself up to get a drink of water
+such a pang went through her head that she fell back on the bed
+groaning, and lay there with beating heart. And strange pains that she
+did not know went through her. Then a cold shiver seemed to rise in
+the very marrow of her bones and run down every artery and vein,
+freezing the blood; her skin puckered up, and drawing up her legs she
+lay huddled together in a heap, the shawl wrapped tightly round her,
+and her teeth chattering. Shivering, she whispered:
+
+'Oh, I'm so cold, so cold. Mother, give me some clothes; I shall die
+of the cold. Oh, I'm freezing!'
+
+But after awhile the cold seemed to give way, and a sudden heat seized
+her, flushing her face, making her break out into perspiration, so
+that she threw everything off and loosened the things about her neck.
+
+'Give us a drink,' she said. 'Oh, I'd give anythin' for a little drop
+of water!'
+
+There was no one to hear; Mrs. Kemp continued to sleep heavily,
+occasionally breaking out into a little snore.
+
+Liza remained there, now shivering with cold, now panting for breath,
+listening to the regular, heavy breathing by her side, and in her pain
+she sobbed. She pulled at her pillow and said:
+
+'Why can't I go to sleep? Why can't I sleep like 'er?'
+
+And the darkness was awful; it was a heavy, ghastly blackness, that
+seemed palpable, so that it frightened her and she looked for relief
+at the faint light glimmering through the window from a distant
+street-lamp. She thought the night would never end--the minutes seemed
+like hours, and she wondered how she should live through till morning.
+And strange pains that she did not know went through her.
+
+Still the night went on, the darkness continued, cold and horrible,
+and her mother breathed loudly and steadily by her side.
+
+At last with the morning sleep came; but the sleep was almost worse
+than the wakefulness, for it was accompanied by ugly, disturbing
+dreams. Liza thought she was going through the fight with her enemy,
+and Mrs. Blakeston grew enormous in size, and multiplied, so that every
+way she turned the figure confronted her. And she began running away,
+and she ran and ran till she found herself reckoning up an account she
+had puzzled over in the morning, and she did it backwards and
+forwards, upwards and downwards, starting here, starting there, and
+the figures got mixed up with other things, and she had to begin over
+again, and everything jumbled up, and her head whirled, till finally,
+with a start, she woke.
+
+The darkness had given way to a cold, grey dawn, her uncovered legs
+were chilled to the bone, and by her side she heard again the regular,
+nasal breathing of the drunkard.
+
+For a long while she lay where she was, feeling very sick and ill, but
+better than in the night. At last her mother woke.
+
+'Liza!' she called.
+
+'Yus, mother,' she answered feebly.
+
+'Git us a cup of tea, will yer?'
+
+'I can't, mother, I'm ill.'
+
+'Garn!' said Mrs. Kemp, in surprise. Then looking at her: 'Swop me bob,
+wot's up with yer? Why, yer cheeks is flushed, an' yer forehead--it is
+'ot! Wot's the matter with yer, gal?'
+
+'I dunno,' said Liza. 'I've been thet bad all night, I thought I was
+goin' ter die.'
+
+'I know wot it is,' said Mrs. Kemp, shaking her head; 'the fact is, you
+ain't used ter drinkin', an' of course it's upset yer. Now me, why I'm
+as fresh as a disy. Tike my word, there ain't no good in teetotalism;
+it finds yer aht in the end, an' it's found you aht.'
+
+Mrs. Kemp considered it a judgment of Providence. She got up and mixed
+some whisky and water.
+
+''Ere, drink this,' she said. 'When one's 'ad a drop too much at
+night, there's nothin' like havin' a drop more in the mornin' ter put
+one right. It just acts like magic.'
+
+'Tike it awy,' said Liza, turning from it in disgust; 'the smell of it
+gives me the sick. I'll never touch spirits again.'
+
+'Ah, thet's wot we all says sometime in our lives, but we does, an'
+wot's more we can't do withaht it. Why, me, the 'ard life I've 'ad--.'
+It is unnecessary to repeat Mrs. Kemp's repetitions.
+
+Liza did not get up all day. Tom came to inquire after her, and was
+told she was very ill. Liza plaintively asked whether anyone else had
+been, and sighed a little when her mother answered no. But she felt
+too ill to think much or trouble much about anything. The fever came
+again as the day wore on, and the pains in her head grew worse. Her
+mother came to bed, and quickly went off to sleep, leaving Liza to
+bear her agony alone. She began to have frightful pains all over her,
+and she held her breath to prevent herself from crying out and waking
+her mother. She clutched the sheets in her agony, and at last, about
+six o'clock in the morning, she could bear it no longer, and in the
+anguish of labour screamed out, and woke her mother.
+
+Mrs. Kemp was frightened out of her wits. Going upstairs she woke the
+woman who lived on the floor above her. Without hesitating, the good
+lady put on a skirt and came down.
+
+'She's 'ad a miss,' she said, after looking at Liza. 'Is there anyone
+you could send to the 'orspital?'
+
+'Na, I dunno 'oo I could get at this hour?'
+
+'Well, I'll git my old man ter go.'
+
+She called her husband, and sent him off. She was a stout, middle-aged
+woman, rough-visaged and strong-armed. Her name was Mrs. Hodges.
+
+'It's lucky you came ter me,' she said, when she had settled down. 'I
+go aht nursin', yer know, so I know all abaht it.'
+
+'Well, you surprise me,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'I didn't know as Liza was
+thet way. She never told me nothin' abaht it.'
+
+'D'yer know 'oo it is 'as done it?'
+
+'Now you ask me somethin' I don't know,' replied Mrs. Kemp. 'But now I
+come ter think of it, it must be thet there Tom. 'E's been keepin'
+company with Liza. 'E's a single man, so they'll be able ter get
+married--thet's somethin'.'
+
+'It ain't Tom,' feebly said Liza.
+
+'Not 'im; 'oo is it, then?'
+
+Liza did not answer.
+
+'Eh?' repeated the mother, ''oo is it?'
+
+Liza lay still without speaking.
+
+'Never mind, Mrs. Kemp,' said Mrs. Hodges, 'don't worry 'er now; you'll
+be able ter find aht all abaht it when she gits better.'
+
+For a while the two women sat still, waiting the doctor's coming, and
+Liza lay gazing vacantly at the wall, panting for breath. Sometimes
+Jim crossed her mind, and she opened her mouth to call for him, but in
+her despair she restrained herself.
+
+The doctor came.
+
+'D'you think she's bad, doctor?' asked Mrs. Hodges.
+
+'I'm afraid she is rather,' he answered. 'I'll come in again this
+evening.'
+
+'Oh, doctor,' said Mrs. Kemp, as he was going, 'could yer give me
+somethin' for my rheumatics? I'm a martyr to rheumatism, an' these
+cold days I 'ardly knows wot ter do with myself. An', doctor, could
+you let me 'ave some beef-tea? My 'usbind's dead, an' of course I
+can't do no work with my daughter ill like this, an' we're very
+short--.'
+
+The day passed, and in the evening Mrs. Hodges, who had been attending
+to her own domestic duties, came downstairs again. Mrs. Kemp was on the
+bed sleeping.
+
+'I was just 'avin' a little nap,' she said to Mrs. Hodges, on waking.
+
+''Ow is the girl?' asked that lady.
+
+'Oh,' answered Mrs. Kemp, 'my rheumatics 'as been thet bad I really
+'aven't known wot ter do with myself, an' now Liza can't rub me I'm
+worse than ever. It is unfortunate thet she should get ill just now
+when I want so much attendin' ter myself, but there, it's just my
+luck!'
+
+Mrs. Hodges went over and looked at Liza; she was lying just as when
+she left in the morning, her cheeks flushed, her mouth open for
+breath, and tiny beads of sweat stood on her forehead.
+
+''Ow are yer, ducky?' asked Mrs. Hodges; but Liza did not answer.
+
+'It's my belief she's unconscious,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'I've been askin'
+'er 'oo it was as done it, but she don't seem to 'ear wot I say. It's
+been a great shock ter me, Mrs. 'Odges.'
+
+'I believe you,' replied that lady, sympathetically.
+
+'Well, when you come in and said wot it was, yer might 'ave knocked
+me dahn with a feather. I knew no more than the dead wot 'ad
+'appened.'
+
+'I saw at once wot it was,' said Mrs. Hodges, nodding her head.
+
+'Yus, of course, you knew. I expect you've 'ad a great deal of
+practice one way an' another.'
+
+'You're right, Mrs. Kemp, you're right. I've been on the job now for
+nearly twenty years, an' if I don't know somethin' abaht it I ought.'
+
+'D'yer finds it pays well?'
+
+'Well, Mrs. Kemp, tike it all in all, I ain't got no grounds for
+complaint. I'm in the 'abit of askin' five shillings, an' I will say
+this, I don't think it's too much for wot I do.'
+
+The news of Liza's illness had quickly spread, and more than once in
+the course of the day a neighbour had come to ask after her. There was
+a knock at the door now, and Mrs. Hodges opened it. Tom stood on the
+threshold asking to come in.
+
+'Yus, you can come,' said Mrs. Kemp.
+
+He advanced on tiptoe, so as to make no noise, and for a while stood
+silently looking at Liza. Mrs. Hodges was by his side.
+
+'Can I speak to 'er?' he whispered.
+
+'She can't 'ear you.'
+
+He groaned.
+
+'D'yer think she'll get arright?' he asked.
+
+Mrs. Hodges shrugged her shoulders.
+
+'I shouldn't like ter give an opinion,' she said, cautiously.
+
+Tom bent over Liza, and, blushing, kissed her; then, without speaking
+further, went out of the room.
+
+'Thet's the young man as was courtin' 'er,' said Mrs. Kemp, pointing
+over her shoulder with her thumb.
+
+Soon after the Doctor came.
+
+'Wot do yer think of 'er, doctor?' said Mrs. Hodges, bustling forwards
+authoritatively in her position of midwife and sick-nurse.
+
+'I'm afraid she's very bad.'
+
+'D'yer think she's goin' ter die?' she asked, dropping her voice to a
+whisper.
+
+'I'm afraid so!'
+
+As the doctor sat down by Liza's side Mrs. Hodges turned round and
+significantly nodded to Mrs. Kemp, who put her handkerchief to her
+eyes. Then she went outside to the little group waiting at the door.
+
+'Wot does the doctor sy?' they asked, among them Tom.
+
+''E says just wot I've been sayin' all along; I knew she wouldn't
+live.'
+
+And Tom burst out: 'Oh, Liza!'
+
+As she retired a woman remarked:
+
+'Mrs. 'Odges is very clever, I think.'
+
+'Yus,' remarked another, 'she got me through my last confinement
+simply wonderful. If it come to choosin' between 'em I'd back Mrs.
+'Odges against forty doctors.'
+
+'Ter tell yer the truth, so would I. I've never known 'er wrong yet.'
+
+Mrs. Hodges sat down beside Mrs. Kemp and proceeded to comfort her.
+
+'Why don't yer tike a little drop of brandy ter calm yer nerves, Mrs.
+Kemp?' she said, 'you want it.'
+
+'I was just feelin' rather faint, an' I couldn't 'elp thinkin' as 'ow
+twopenneth of whisky 'ud do me good.'
+
+'Na, Mrs. Kemp,' said Mrs. Hodges, earnestly, putting her hand on the
+other's arm. 'You tike my tip--when you're queer there's nothin' like
+brandy for pullin' yer togither. I don't object to whisky myself, but
+as a medicine yer can't beat brandy.'
+
+'Well, I won't set up myself as knowin' better than you Mrs. 'Odges;
+I'll do wot you think right.'
+
+Quite accidentally there was some in the room, and Mrs. Kemp poured it
+out for herself and her friend.
+
+'I'm not in the 'abit of tikin' anythin' when I'm aht on business,'
+she apologized, 'but just ter keep you company I don't mind if I do.'
+
+'Your 'ealth. Mrs. 'Odges.'
+
+'Sime ter you, an' thank yer, Mrs. Kemp.'
+
+Liza lay still, breathing very quietly, her eyes closed. The doctor
+kept his fingers on her pulse.
+
+'I've been very unfortunate of lite,' remarked Mrs. Hodges, as she
+licked her lips, 'this mikes the second death I've 'ad in the last ten
+days--women, I mean, of course I don't count bibies.'
+
+'Yer don't sy so.'
+
+'Of course the other one--well, she was only a prostitute, so it
+didn't so much matter. It ain't like another woman is it?'
+
+'Na, you're right.'
+
+'Still, one don't like 'em ter die, even if they are thet. One mustn't
+be too 'ard on 'em.'
+
+'Strikes me you've got a very kind 'eart, Mrs. 'Odges,' said Mrs. Kemp.
+
+'I 'ave thet; an' I often says it 'ud be better for my peace of mind
+an' my business if I 'adn't. I 'ave ter go through a lot, I do; but I
+can say this for myself, I always gives satisfaction, an' thet's
+somethin' as all lidies in my line can't say.'
+
+They sipped their brandy for a while.
+
+'It's a great trial ter me that this should 'ave 'appened,' said Mrs.
+Kemp, coming to the subject that had been disturbing her for some
+time. 'Mine's always been a very respectable family, an' such a thing
+as this 'as never 'appened before. No, Mrs. 'Odges, I was lawfully
+married in church, an' I've got my marriage lines now ter show I was,
+an' thet one of my daughters should 'ave gone wrong in this way--well,
+I can't understand it. I give 'er a good education, an' she 'ad all
+the comforts of a 'ome. She never wanted for nothin'; I worked myself
+to the bone ter keep 'er in luxury, an' then thet she should go an'
+disgrace me like this!'
+
+'I understand wot yer mean. Mrs. Kemp.'
+
+'I can tell you my family was very respectable; an' my 'usband, 'e
+earned twenty-five shillings a week, an' was in the sime plice
+seventeen years; an' 'is employers sent a beautiful wreath ter put on
+'is coffin; an' they tell me they never 'ad such a good workman an'
+sich an 'onest man before. An' me! Well, I can sy this--I've done my
+duty by the girl, an' she's never learnt anythin' but good from me. Of
+course I ain't always been in wot yer might call flourishing
+circumstances, but I've always set her a good example, as she could
+tell yer so 'erself if she wasn't speechless.'
+
+Mrs. Kemp paused for a moment's reflection.
+
+'As they sy in the Bible,' she finished, 'it's enough ter mike one's
+grey 'airs go dahn into the ground in sorrer. I can show yer my
+marriage certificate. Of course one doesn't like ter say much, because
+of course she's very bad; but if she got well I should 'ave given 'er
+a talkin' ter.'
+
+There was another knock.
+
+'Do go an' see 'oo thet is; I can't, on account of my rheumatics.'
+
+Mrs. Hodges opened the door. It was Jim.
+
+He was very white, and the blackness of his hair and beard,
+contrasting with the deathly pallor of his face, made him look
+ghastly. Mrs. Hodges stepped back.
+
+''Oo's 'e?' she said, turning to Mrs. Kemp.
+
+Jim pushed her aside and went up to the bed.
+
+'Doctor, is she very bad?' he asked.
+
+The doctor looked at him questioningly.
+
+Jim whispered: 'It was me as done it. She ain't goin' ter die, is
+she?'
+
+The doctor nodded.
+
+'O God! wot shall I do? It was my fault! I wish I was dead!'
+
+Jim took the girl's head in his hands, and the tears burst from his
+eyes.
+
+'She ain't dead yet, is she?'
+
+'She's just living,' said the doctor.
+
+Jim bent down.
+
+'Liza, Liza, speak ter me! Liza, say you forgive me! Oh, speak ter
+me!'
+
+His voice was full of agony. The doctor spoke.
+
+'She can't hear you.'
+
+'Oh, she must hear me! Liza! Liza!'
+
+He sank on his knees by the bedside.
+
+They all remained silent: Liza lying stiller than ever, her breast
+unmoved by the feeble respiration, Jim looking at her very mournfully;
+the doctor grave, with his fingers on the pulse. The two women looked
+at Jim.
+
+'Fancy it bein' 'im!' said Mrs. Kemp. 'Strike me lucky, ain't 'e a
+sight!'
+
+'You 'ave got 'er insured, Mrs. Kemp?' asked the midwife. She could
+bear the silence no longer.
+
+'Trust me fur thet!' replied the good lady. 'I've 'ad 'er insured ever
+since she was born. Why, only the other dy I was sayin' ter myself
+thet all thet money 'ad been wisted, but you see it wasn't; yer never
+know yer luck, you see!'
+
+'Quite right, Mrs. Kemp; I'm a rare one for insurin'. It's a great
+thing. I've always insured all my children.'
+
+'The way I look on it is this,' said Mrs. Kemp--'wotever yer do when
+they're alive, an' we all know as children is very tryin' sometimes,
+you should give them a good funeral when they dies. Thet's my motto,
+an' I've always acted up to it.'
+
+'Do you deal with Mr. Stearman?' asked Mrs. Hodges.
+
+'No, Mrs. 'Odges, for undertikin' give me Mr. Footley every time. In the
+black line 'e's fust an' the rest nowhere!'
+
+'Well, thet's very strange now--thet's just wot I think. Mr. Footley
+does 'is work well, an' 'e's very reasonable. I'm a very old customer
+of 'is, an' 'e lets me 'ave things as cheap as anybody.'
+
+'Does 'e indeed! Well Mrs. 'Odges if it ain't askin' too much of yer, I
+should look upon it as very kind if you'd go an' mike the arrangements
+for Liza.'
+
+'Why, certainly, Mrs. Kemp. I'm always willin' ter do a good turn to
+anybody, if I can.'
+
+'I want it done very respectable,' said Mrs. Kemp; 'I'm not goin' ter
+stint for nothin' for my daughter's funeral. I like plumes, you know,
+although they is a bit extra.'
+
+'Never you fear, Mrs. Kemp, it shall be done as well as if it was for
+my own 'usbind, an' I can't say more than thet. Mr. Footley thinks a
+deal of me, 'e does! Why, only the other dy as I was goin' inter 'is
+shop 'e says "Good mornin', Mrs. 'Odges." "Good mornin', Mr. Footley,"
+says I. "You've jest come in the nick of time," says 'e. "This
+gentleman an' myself," pointin' to another gentleman as was standin'
+there, "we was 'avin' a bit of an argument. Now you're a very
+intelligent woman, Mrs. 'Odges, and a good customer too." "I can say
+thet for myself," say I, "I gives yer all the work I can." "I believe
+you," says 'e. "Well," 'e says, "now which do you think? Does hoak
+look better than helm, or does helm look better than hoak? Hoak
+_versus_ helm, thet's the question." "Well, Mr. Footley," says I, "for
+my own private opinion, when you've got a nice brass plite in the
+middle, an' nice brass 'andles each end, there's nothin' like hoak."
+"Quite right," says 'e, "thet's wot I think; for coffins give me hoak
+any day, an' I 'ope," says 'e, "when the Lord sees fit ter call me to
+'Imself, I shall be put in a hoak coffin myself." "Amen," says I.'
+
+'I like hoak,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'My poor 'usband 'e 'ad a hoak coffin.
+We did 'ave a job with 'im, I can tell yer. You know 'e 'ad dropsy,
+an' 'e swell up--oh, 'e did swell; 'is own mother wouldn't 'ave known
+'im. Why, 'is leg swell up till it was as big round as 'is body, swop
+me bob, it did.'
+
+'Did it indeed!' ejaculated Mrs. Hodges.
+
+'Yus, an' when 'e died they sent the coffin up. I didn't 'ave Mr.
+Footley at thet time; we didn't live 'ere then, we lived in Battersea,
+an' all our undertikin' was done by Mr. Brownin'; well, 'e sent the
+coffin up, an' we got my old man in, but we couldn't get the lid down,
+he was so swell up. Well, Mr. Brownin', 'e was a great big man,
+thirteen stone if 'e was a ounce. Well, 'e stood on the coffin, an' a
+young man 'e 'ad with 'im stood on it too, an' the lid simply wouldn't
+go dahn; so Mr. Browning', 'e said, "Jump on, missus," so I was in my
+widow's weeds, yer know, but we 'ad ter git it dahn, so I stood on it,
+an' we all jumped, an' at last we got it to, an' screwed it; but,
+lor', we did 'ave a job; I shall never forget it.'
+
+Then all was silence. And a heaviness seemed to fill the air like a
+grey blight, cold and suffocating; and the heaviness was Death. They
+felt the presence in the room, and they dared not move, they dared not
+draw their breath. The silence was terrifying.
+
+Suddenly a sound was heard--a loud rattle. It was from the bed and
+rang through the room, piercing the stillness.
+
+The doctor opened one of Liza's eyes and touched it, then he laid on
+her breast the hand he had been holding, and drew the sheet over her
+head.
+
+Jim turned away with a look of intense weariness on his face, and the
+two women began weeping silently. The darkness was sinking before the
+day, and a dim, grey light came through the window. The lamp
+spluttered out.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Liza of Lambeth, by W. Somerset Maugham
+
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