Crying for the Light; Or, Fifty Years Ago. Vol. 2 [of 3] — John Shaqi
Crying for the Light; Or, Fifty Years Ago. Vol. 2 [of 3]Ritchie, J. Ewing (James Ewing)
General
Crying for the Light; Or, Fifty Years Ago. Vol. 2 [of 3]
Ritchie, J. Ewing (James Ewing)
England -- Social conditions -- 19th century -- Fiction
She turned up a side-street, hurried down another, and soon was at the
stage-door.
A brougham was drawn up before it; on the box a page was seated. As she
looked, her first impulse was to scream out his name. It was her
Sloville boy, looking clean and respectable.
‘Wait a bit, Sally,’ she said to herself. ‘This is a serious business.
It ought to be made to pay. Oh, my fine young gentleman belongs to the
popular actress. Ah, if I can come the broken-hearted mother dodge it
ought to bring me a fiver.’
Presently there was a rustle under the stage-door, and a pressure of the
crowd without. The actress appeared wrapped up and well attended. As
she leaped into the brougham she told the driver to make the best of his
way home.
‘Gad! I know that voice,’ said a gentleman in the crowd. ‘It is that
girl Rose; good heavens! where’s her home? Oh, there you are, Harry,’
said he, speaking to the manager as he stood at the door watching the
brougham as it drove away. ‘You’ve done it to-night, you have! Where on
earth does that woman live?’
‘Well, Sir Watkin, I can tell you, but it is no good. She lives with her
mother.’
‘And is married?’ he eagerly exclaimed.
‘Yes, to be sure. No, not married, but just about to be so.’
‘Then, I am after her!’ he exclaimed. ‘Faint heart never won fair lady.’
‘It is a wild goose-chase, Sir Watkin;’ but Sir Watkin was off in a
hansom, nevertheless, not before, however, our Sal had made an effort to
secure him, which effort he impatiently evaded, bidding her ‘go to the
d----’ and not bother him.
‘You nearly had him then, old girl,’ said a ragged bystander, in a voice
perfectly familiar to her ear. It was the tramp’s chum from Mint Street.
‘You here?’ said she, in a tone which did not express delight. ‘I
thought yer was as tight as my old man.’
‘Not exactly; as soon as I missed you I thought I’d see that you did not
come to harm.’
‘Thank you for nothin’,’ said the woman angrily.
‘Now, don’t be angry,’ he said, with a good-natured smile, ‘now I’ve
come. I wants to do yer a good turn. That old tramp will be cotched
to-morrow as sure as eggs is eggs, and I thought I’d better tell ye to
keep out of the way.’
‘Out of the way; wot do you mean? Do you think I’ve been up to
anything?’
‘No, of course not,’ said the chum in a mocking tone; ‘but appearances
ain’t promising, and that is all I’ve got to say. You’d better work yer
way along with me to-night.’
‘Where to?’
‘Down Drury Lane way; it ain’t safe to be in the Boro’.’
‘But lor, bless me, how you’ve altered!’ said Sal. ‘You had a couple of
arms; wot have you done with one?’
‘Oh, it is buttoned down by my side.’
‘And your boots, where are they?’
‘Hid away in my clothes. Ain’t it a capital dodge? I gets lots of
coppers when I thus go out cadging. I was goin’ to perform on the
bridge, when I saw you walk past, and then I followed. I ain’t made much
money to-night. Perhaps we’d better go home.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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