Original Penny Readings: A Series of Short SketchesFenn, George Manville
General
Original Penny Readings: A Series of Short Sketches
Fenn, George Manville
Fiction; Short stories
"Little bread--little water--that's all;" she says again so pitifully;
"Let me stay here till I'm gone, and I shan't be long now;" and then
sinking back on the bed, she closed her eyes and lay muttering, with her
poor thin, bony arms stretched across her breast.
I looked at the p'leecemen, and they looked at me, and not being men
much given to softness, they were about to lift the poor thing up and
carry her down, only I stopped 'em, for there was something about the
poor soul then as made me hold up my hand; and when they saw what I did,
one of them went down to send away the cab and fetch a doctor, while me
and t'other stood looking on to see the look of horror and fear go off
her face, while the hands kept their place across her poor breast--to
see her eyes stopping shut, then open widely for a minute, and then
close again, as she lay quiet and still--gone to sleep to wake
elsewhere.
P'leeceman went out werry quietly and stopped at the door, beckoning me
to come, but I couldn't see him, for I was seeing that poor woman
sitting on that broken chair, close to the broken window, in the early
morning, and through the long day, and right into the night, by the
light of a cheap candle, stitching away at tailor's slopwork hour after
hour, to make at first 7 shillings 6 pence a week, then, as her eyes
grew feebler, and the stitches less regular, six shillings--five
shillings--four shillings--_two shillings_--nothing! for flesh and blood
is cheap in London, and when one bone and gristle machine wears out,
there are plenty more to take its place. Sitting there in the bitter
cold wet autumn of this year, sick at heart, sick in body, weak, old,
and helpless--too feeble to work, too proud to tell of her sufferings;
and with the horror of the poor against the tender mercies of the
parish, where the feeble sink amidst the horrors of the infirmary.
Working on till she could work no more, and then, with bloodless limbs
and pallid face, when work and food were given, and she took both, the
strength failed, and the stomach unused to sustenance could not bear
it--the lamp was going out, the flame trembling, and the oil for which
it was sinking drowned out the last flickering ray.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account