A London Baby: The Story of King Roy
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lost baby, butshe had no desire just then that the police should rob her of him.Hiding him very effectually with her shawl, she brought him home--tosuch a home as she called her own. It was a cellar in a miserable backcourt, an ill-smelling, ill-drained place. From such a cellar as HannahSearles's stalked many times in the year the gaunt and grim spectre offever. It had one advantage, however, over many around it, she lived init alone; no other living creature shared it with her. She stumbleddown the ladder which led to it, drew across the trap-door, and layingRoy, who still slept soundly, on the bed, she prepared a small fire inthe grate. When it was kindled, making a little light and cheerfulnessin the gloomy place, she removed her bonnet, and going over to the bedknelt down by it; in this position her hungry eyes could gaze long onthe sleeping child. Yes, he was very fair; she had never seen anycreature half so beautiful since her own child died; nay, she had evento acknowledge to herself that her own child, though he had yellow hairand fair skin, and though he was in very truth bone of her bone andflesh of her flesh, yet even he was not so lovely as this child. Yetthere was a likeness; the lips pouted with something the same prettyfulness, the little hands were folded in somewhat a similar attitude,the bright hair curled in much the same rings. Then kneeling there inthe flickering twilight made by the fire, a strange fancy came overHannah Searles; perhaps this was in very truth her own little child comeback again. True, she had with her own hands closed the coffin on thesweet golden head, she had herself seen him laid in the grave, butperhaps God, seeing what a lost, abandoned woman she was without him,might have sent her baby back to her again. He had been a whole year inHeaven now. During that year, while she had been leading as bad a lifeas a woman could lead, he had been growing beautiful in the air ofheaven, and now God had sent him back to save her. Where had that childcome from who stood on the threshold of the dreadful public-house? Wasit not more than probable that he was indeed an angel, that he was herown angel given back to her once more? The fancy was very sweet to her;but Roy opening his eyes at the moment dispelled it. Roy's eyes wereblue, her baby's brown; but having for an instant thought him her veryown child, she began from that instant to love him.
"'Oy want Fate," said the little child, raising his head and gazingabout him.
"Wot's yer name, my little dear; wot they calls ye to home, I mean?"asked Hannah.--Hannah with all her roughness had a soft voice, itattracted the child to her, he sat up on the dirty bed, regarded herwith decided favour, and replied in a contented voice:
"Fate calls! 'Oy."
"And I'd like to say Davie to yer, dear little man. May I call yer bythe real beautiful name o' Davie? I 'ad a Davie of my h'own once."
"A Davie of 'oor own," repeated little Roy, and now he came close andstroked the rough, red cheek.
"I'll get yer some supper, my sweet little darlin'; you set still on theside o' the pretty bed, and I'll get a nice supper ready in a jiffy."
The woman had no candle, but she heaped on coals with a lavish hand, andprepared a mess of bread and milk. Little Roy was very hungry; he foundno fault with the tin mug, nor with the pewter spoon. He thought thewoman's rough red face rather nice, and her soft tones fell warm on hisbaby heart. The dreadful cellar, too, with the flickering firelightmaking fantastic shadows on its dirty, wet walls, became as a palace inhis little mind; he clapped his dimpled hands and said, "Pitty, pitty."He ceased to ask for Faith, and even twice before he had again droppedasleep, he had answered to the name of Davie.
That night Hannah Searles slept again with a child clasped to her bosom.Her sleep was very sweet to her, but the morning brought fresh cares.She had now quite resolved to keep little Roy. He was not her child,she knew that, but he had been sent to her. She shut her eyesresolutely to the fact of some other woman's broken heart for the lossof him. No, if he had a mother living she must be strangely careless toallow so great a treasure to go away from her, and to be found in apublic-house. But Hannah guessed that little Roy's mother was dead. Ifshe was alive he would have spoken of his mammie, but no, he onlymentioned some mysterious fate: _she_ was his real fate--she would be amother to him, and make up to him by her love for the loss of his own.
But though his mother might be dead, yet Hannah knew that so nicelydressed a child must have relations who would miss him and take means tohave him returned to them. They would put up rewards; the police wouldget directions to search for the child. She must therefore on noaccount put his nice, dainty clothes on him, she must fold them up andput them carefully out of sight. Another woman would have pawned thelittle things, but Hannah did not care to make money by this child whohad come in the place of her own. She put the dainty blue frock, thewhite pinafore, the little shoes and socks, into a box which was wellhidden away under the bed; then while Roy still slept she slipped out,and purchased at a pawnbroker's for a shilling, a set of little garmentssuch as her own child, were he alive, would wear.
When Roy awoke she dressed him in the dingy and ragged clothes. He didnot like them and cried a little for his own "pitty fock," and spokeagain in a complaining voice of Faith. But Hannah drew out of herpocket a small many-coloured ball, and for the sake of the ball heforgave her the ragged and ugly garments; he chased the ball into allthe dark corners of the dingy cellar, and his gay laugh filled Hannah'sheart with rejoicing.
That day the woman and child spent at home. She was very happy withRoy, but she was puzzled how to act; she dared not leave him alone athome, she dared not confide her secret to the neighbours, still less didshe dare to take him with her into the streets, for by this time surelyhis description would be printed up by the police courts, and no ragscould dim the beauty of his lovely little face. But for to-day she hadmoney enough, so she spent her time cleaning the cellar and making it amore fit habitation for the young king who had made it his home.
CHAPTER TEN.
Two days passed so; on the third day Hannah was penniless. It nowbecame absolutely necessary for her to go out to seek employment. Shemust leave little Roy, for she dare not take him with her. Already--going for a moment last night into the court, a woman had confided toher that a little child was being advertised for at all the policestations, and that she wished she could get hold of him, for the rewardoffered for his recovery was ten pounds.
This woman was not a resident in the court, or Hannah would have feltcompelled to change her quarters. As it was, however, it was absolutelyimpossible for her to let any one know of Roy's existence. By thistime, during the two complete days they had spent together, the womanand child had grown very close to each other. Hannah had a power overchildren. Little Roy had grown fond of her; he was contented with hiscellar life, he liked to stand by her knee, and when she took him on herlap the feel of her arms put tightly round him was comfortable. Alreadythe fickle baby mind had forgotten Faith, he was Hannah's boy to allintents and purposes. But all the same--though she had never known suchpure happiness since Davie died--Hannah was puzzled what to do with thisstolen child. Cleaning her cellar and playing with him brought no moneyto give food to either; she must go out to earn something, she mustleave the child behind her, and if he cried in any way the neighboursoverhead would discover his existence, and then her secret would be out,and her treasure torn from her arms. If only it were in the night shehad to leave him, little Roy would sleep, and there would be no danger;but he was a wakeful, lively child, and seldom closed his eyes for thelivelong day.
Hannah resolved to seek for coarse needlework, which she could do athome, but to obtain such she must be absent several hours, and duringthose hours was the time of danger.
On the evening of the second day, after putting her baby boy to bed, shewent out, locking the door carefully behind her. She meant to visit aneighbour who lived in the opposite side of the court. This woman toooccupied a cellar, but it was a far worse one than Hannah's, smaller,dirtier, and crowded with children, from ten years of age to a baby ofsix months. This baby now lay in profound sleep on the bed. Hannahwent over to look at the
little colourless, waxen face.
"How sound she ha' gone off, Jane Martin!" she exclaimed. "My Davie now'ud never lie as still as that, and wid h'all them others makin' sech adin, too."
"'Tis h'all along o' them blessed drops," replied Mrs Martin. "Afore Iknew of them there worn't a more worriting baby in the world."
"What drops?" asked Hannah.
"Some as a neighbour give me, I dunno the name. She give me a bigbottle full, and I drops three or four into her milk, and she'll neverwake now till mornin', and then she'll be drowsy like and I can hush heroff any minute."
"They must be a real comfort," answered Hannah, and it darted into herhead that it would be very nice to put Roy to sleep in the same