behind a very fashionable square in a very unfashionable little street, in the west end of london, dwelt miss sarah lillycrop.
that lady’s portion in this life was a scanty wardrobe, a small apartment, a remarkably limited income, and a tender, religious spirit. from this it will be seen that she was rich as well as poor.
her age was, by a curious coincidence, exactly proportioned to her income—the one being forty pounds, and the other forty years. she added to the former, with difficulty, by teaching, and to the latter, unavoidably, by living.
by means of a well-known quality styled economy, she more than doubled her income, and by uniting prayer with practice and a gracious mien she did good, as it were, at the rate of five hundred, or five thousand, a year.
it could not be said, however, that miss lillycrop lived well in the ordinary sense of that expression.
to those who knew her most intimately it seemed a species of standing miracle that she contrived to exist at all, for she fed chiefly on toast and tea. her dietary resulted in an attenuated frame and a thread-paper constitution. occasionally she indulged in an egg, sometimes even in a sausage. but, morally speaking, miss lillycrop lived well, because she lived for others. of course we do not mean to imply that she had no regard for herself at all. on the contrary, she rejoiced in creature comforts when she had the chance, and laid in daily “one ha’p’orth of milk” all for herself. she paid for it, too, which is more than can be said of every one. she also indulged herself to some extent in the luxury of brown sugar at twopence-halfpenny a pound, and was absolutely extravagant in hot water, which she not only imbibed in the form of weak tea and eau sucrée hot, but actually took to bed with her every night in an india-rubber bottle. but with the exception of these excusable touches of selfishness, miss lillycrop ignored herself systematically, and devoted her time, talents, and means, to the welfare of mankind.
beside a trim little tea-table set for three, she sat one evening with her hands folded on her lap, and her eyes fixed on the door as if she expected it to make a sudden and unprovoked assault on her. in a few minutes her expectations were almost realised, for the door burst open and a boy burst into the room with— “here we are, cousin lillycrop.”
“phil, darling, at last!” exclaimed cousin lillycrop, rising in haste.
philip maylands offered both hands, but cousin lillycrop declined them, seized him round the neck, kissed him on both cheeks, and thrust him down into an easy chair. then she retired into her own easy chair and gloated over him.
“how much you’ve grown—and so handsome, dear boy,” murmured the little lady.
“ah! then, cousin, it’s the blarney stone you’ve been kissing since i saw you last!”
“no, phil, i’ve kissed nothing but the cat since i saw you last. i kiss that delicious creature every night on the forehead before going to bed, but the undemonstrative thing does not seem to reciprocate. however, i cannot help that.”
miss lillycrop was right, she could not help it. she was overflowing with the milk of human kindness, and, rather than let any of that valuable liquid go to waste, she poured some of it, not inappropriately, on the thankless cat.
“i’m glad you arrived before your sister, phil,” said miss lillycrop. “of course i asked her here to meet you. i am so sorry the dear girl cannot live with me: i had fully meant that she should, but my little rooms are so far from the post-office, where her work is, you know, that it could not be managed. however, we see each other as often as possible, and she visits sometimes with me in my district. what has made you so late, phil?”
“i expected to have been here sooner, cousin,” replied phil, as he took off his greatcoat, “but was delayed by my friend, george aspel, who has come to london with me to look after a situation that has been promised him by sir james clubley, m.p. for i forget where. he’s coming here to-night.”
“who, sir james clubley?”
“no,” returned the boy, laughing, “george aspel. he went with mr blurt to a hotel to see after a bed, and promised to come here to tea. i asked him, knowing that you’d be glad to receive any intimate friend of mine. won’t you, coz?”
miss lillycrop expressed and felt great delight at the prospect of meeting phil’s friend, but the smallest possible shade of anxiety was mingled with the feeling as she glanced at her very small and not too heavily-loaded table.
“besides,” continued phil, “george is such a splendid fellow, and, as maybe you remember, lived with us long ago. may will be glad to meet him; and he saved mr blurt’s life, so you see—”
“saved mr blurt’s life!” interrupted miss lillycrop.
“yes, and he saved ever so many more people at the same time, who would likely have been all lost if he hadn’t swum off to ’em with the rocket-line, and while he was doing that i ran off to call out the lifeboat, an’ didn’t they get her out and launch her with a will—for you see i had to run three miles, and though i went like the wind they couldn’t call out the men and launch her in a minute, you know; but there was no delay. we were in good time, and saved the whole of ’em—passengers and crew.”
“so, then, you had a hand in the saving of them,” said miss lillycrop.
“sure i had,” said phil with a flush of pleasure at the remembrance of his share in the good work; “but i’d never have thought of the lifeboat, i was so excited with what was going on, if george hadn’t sent me off. he was bursting with big thoughts, and as cool as a cucumber all the time. i do hope he’ll get a good situation here. it’s in a large east india house, i believe, with which sir james clubley is connected, and sir james was an old friend of george’s father, and was very kind to him in his last days, but they say he’s a proud and touchy old fellow.”
as phil spoke, the door, which had a tendency to burst that evening, opened quickly, though not so violently as before, and may maylands stood before them, radiant with a glow of expectation.
phil sprang to meet her. after the first effusions were over, the brother and sister sat down to chat of home in the irish far-west, while miss lillycrop retired to a small kitchen, there to hold solemn converse with the smallest domestic that ever handled broom or scrubbing-brush.
“now, tottie, you must run round to the baker directly, and fetch another loaf.”
“what! a whole one, ma’am?” asked the small domestic—in comparison with whom dollops was a giantess.
“yes, a whole one. you see there’s a young gentleman coming to tea whom i did not expect—a grand tall gentleman too, and a hero, who has saved people from wrecks, and swims in the sea in storms like a duck, and all that sort of thing, so he’s sure to have a tremendous appetite. you will also buy another pennyworth of brown sugar, and two more pats of butter.”
tottie opened her large blue eyes in amazement at the extent of what she deemed a reckless order, but went off instantly to execute it, wondering that any hero, however regardless of the sea or storms, could induce her poor mistress to go in for such extravagance, after having already provided a luxurious meal for three.
it might have seemed unfair to send such a child even to bed without an attendant. to send her into the crowded streets alone in the dusk of evening, burdened with a vast commission, and weighted with coppers, appeared little short of inhumanity. nevertheless miss lillycrop did it with an air of perfect confidence, and the result proved that her trust was not misplaced.
tottie had been gone only a few seconds when george aspel appeared at the door and was admitted by miss lillycrop, who apologised for the absence of her maid.
great was the surprise and not slight the embarrassment of may maylands when young aspel was ushered into the little room, for phil had not recovered sufficiently from the first greetings to mention him. perhaps greater was the surprise of miss lillycrop when these two, whom she had expected to meet as old playmates, shook hands rather stiffly.
“sure, i forgot, may, to tell you that george was coming—”
“i am very glad to see him,” interrupted may, recovering herself, “though i confess to some surprise that he should have forsaken ireland so soon, after saying to me that it was a perfect paradise.”
aspel, whose curly flaxen hair almost brushed the ceiling, brought himself down to a lower region by taking a chair, while he said with a meaning smile—
“ah! miss maylands, the circumstances are entirely altered now—besides,” he added with a sudden change of tone and manner, “that inexorable man-made demon, business, calls me to london.”
“i hope business intends to keep you here,” said miss lillycrop, busying herself at the tea-table.
“that remains to be seen,” returned aspel. “if i find that—”
“the loaf and butter, ma’am,” said tottie, announcing these articles at the door as if they were visitors.
“hush, child; leave them in the kitchen till i ask for them,” said miss lillycrop with a quiet laugh. “my little maid is such an original, mr aspel.”
“she’s a very beautiful, though perhaps somewhat dishevelled, original,” returned aspel, “of which one might be thankful to possess even an inferior copy.”
“indeed you are right,” rejoined miss lillycrop with enthusiasm; “she’s a perfect little angel—come, draw in your chairs; closer this way, phil, so—a perfect little angel—you take sugar i think? yes. well, as i was saying, the strange thing about her was that she was born and bred—thus far—in one of the worst of the back slums of london, and her father is an idle drunkard. i fear, also, a criminal.”
“how strange and sad,” said aspel, whose heart was easily touched and sympathies roused by tales of sorrow. “but how comes it that she has escaped contamination?”
“because she has a good—by which i mean a christian—mother. ah! mr aspel, you have no idea how many unknown and unnoticed gems there are half smothered in the moral mud and filth of london. it is a wonderful—a tremendous city;—tremendous because of the mighty influences for good as well as evil which are constantly at work in it. there is an army of moral navvies labouring here, who are continually unearthing these gems, and there are others who polish them. i have the honour to be a member of this army. dear little tottie is one of the gems, and i mean, with god’s blessing, to polish her. of course, i can’t get her all to myself,” continued miss lillycrop with a sigh, “for her mother, who is a washer-woman, won’t part with her, but she has agreed to come and work for me every morning for a few hours, and i can get her now and then of an evening. my chief regret is that the poor thing has a long long way to walk from her miserable home to reach me. i don’t know how she will stand it. she has been only a few days in my service.”
as the unpolished diamond entered at this moment with a large plate of buttered toast, miss lillycrop changed the subject abruptly by expressing a hope that may maylands had not to go on late duty that evening.
“oh, no; it’s not my turn for a week yet,” said may.
“it seems to me very hard that they should work you night and day,” said phil, who had been quietly drinking in new ideas with his tea while his cousin discoursed.
“but they don’t work us night and day, phil,” returned may, “it is only the telegraphs that do that. we of the female staff work in relays. if we commence at 8 a.m. we work till 4 p.m. if we begin at nine we work till five, and so on—eight p.m. being our latest hour. night duty is performed by men, who are divided into two sections, and it is so arranged that each man has an alternate long and short duty—working three hours one night and thirteen hours the next. we are allowed half-an-hour for dinner, which we eat in a dining-hall in the place. of course we dine in relays also, as there are above twelve hundred of us, male and female.”
“how many?” asked george aspel in surprise.
“above twelve hundred.”
“why, that would make two pretty fair regiments of soldiers,” said aspel.
“no, george,” said phil, “it’s two regiments of pretty fair soldiers that they’d make.”
“can’t you hold your tongue, man, an’ let may talk?” retorted aspel.
“so, you see,” continued may, “that amongst us we manage to have the telegraphic communication of the kingdom well attended to.”
“but tell me, may,” said phil, “do they really suck messages through tubes two miles long?”
“indeed they do, phil. you see, the general post-office in london is in direct communication with all the chief centres of the kingdom, such as birmingham, liverpool, manchester, edinburgh, glasgow, dublin, cork, etcetera, so that all messages sent from london must pass through the great hall at st. martin’s-le-grand. but there are many offices in london for receiving telegrams besides the general post-office. suppose that one of these offices in the city receives numerous telegrams every hour all day long,—instead of transmitting these by wire to the general post-office, to be re-distributed to their various destinations, they are collected and put bodily into cylindrical leather cases, which are inserted into pneumatic metal tubes. these extend to our central office, and through them the telegrams are sucked just as they are written. the longest tube, from the west strand, is about two miles, and each bundle or cylinder of telegrams takes about three minutes to travel. there are upwards of thirty such tubes, and the suction business is done by two enormous fifty-horse-power steam-engines in the basement of our splendid building. there is a third engine, which is kept ready to work in case of a break-down, or while one of the others is being repaired.”
“ah! may, wouldn’t there be the grand blow-up if you were to burst your boilers in the basement?” said phil.
“no doubt there would. but steam is not the only terrible agent at work in that same basement. if you only saw the electric batteries there that generate the electricity which enables us up-stairs to send our messages flying from london to the land’s end or john o’ groat’s, or the heart of ireland! you must know that a far stronger battery is required to send messages a long way than a short. our battery inspector told me the other day that he could not tell exactly the power of all the batteries united, but he had no doubt it was sufficient to blow the entire building into the middle of next week. now you know, phil, it would require a pretty severe shock to do that, wouldn’t it? fortunately the accidental union of all the batteries is impossible. but you’ll see it for yourself soon. and it will make you open your eyes when you see a room with three miles of shelving, on which are ranged twenty-two thousand battery-jars.”
“my dear,” said miss lillycrop, with a mild smile, “you will no doubt wonder at my ignorance, but i don’t understand what you mean by a battery-jar.”
“it is a jar, cousin, which contains the substances which produce electricity.”
“well, well,” rejoined miss lillycrop, dipping the sugar-spoon into the slop-bowl in her abstraction, “this world and its affairs is to me a standing miracle. of course i must believe that what you say is true, yet i can no more understand how electricity is made in a jar and sent flying along a wire for some hundreds of miles with messages to our friends than i can comprehend how a fly walks on the ceiling without tumbling off.”
“i’m afraid,” returned may, “that you would require to study a treatise on telegraphy to comprehend that, but no doubt phil will soon get it so clearly into his head as to be able to communicate it to you.—you’ll go to the office with me on monday, won’t you, phil?”
“of course i will—only too glad to begin at once.”
“my poor boy,” said may, putting her hand on her brother’s arm, “it’s not a very great beginning of life to become a telegraph-messenger.”
“ah! now, may, that’s not like yourself,” said phil, who unconsciously dropped—perhaps we should say rose—to a more decided brogue when he became tender or facetious. “is it rousin’ the pride of me you’d be afther? don’t they say that any ould fiddle is good enough to learn upon? mustn’t i put my foot on the first round o’ the ladder if i want to go up higher? if i’m to be postmaster-general mustn’t i get a general knowledge of the post from the bottom to the top by goin’ through it? it’s only men like george there that can go slap over everything at a bound.”
“come, phil, don’t be impertinent,” said george, “it’s a bad sign in one so young. will you convoy me a short way? i must go now.”
he rose as he spoke and bade miss lillycrop good-evening. that lady expressed an earnest hope that he would come to see her frequently, and he promised to do so as often as he could find time. he also bade may good-evening because she was to spend the night with her cousin, but may parted from him with the same touch of reserve that marked their meeting. he resented this by drawing himself up and turning away somewhat coldly.
“now, phil,” he said, almost sternly, on reaching the street, “here’s a letter to sir james clubley which i want to read to you.—listen.”
by the light of a lamp he read:—
“dear sir,—i appreciate your kindness in offering me the situation mentioned in your letter of the 4th, and especially your remarks in reference to my late father, who was indeed worthy of esteem. i shall have pleasure in calling on you on hearing that you are satisfied with the testimonials herewith enclosed.—i am, etcetera.”
“now, phil, will that do?”
“do? of course it will. nothing could be better. only—”
“well, what?”
“don’t you think that you might call without waiting to hear his opinion of your testimonials?”
“no, phil, i don’t,” replied the other in a slightly petulant tone; “i don’t feel quite sure of the spirit in which he referred to my dear father. of course it was kind and all that, but it was slightly patronising, and my father was an infinitely superior man to himself.”
“well, i don’t know,” said phil; “if you’re going to accept a favour of him you had better try to feel and act in a friendly way, but of course it would never do to encourage him in pride.”
“well then, i’ll send it,” said aspel, closing the letter; “do you know where i can post it?”
“not i. never was here before. i’ve only a vague idea of how i got here, and mustn’t go far with you lest i lose myself.”
at that moment miss lillycrop’s door opened and little tottie issued forth.
“ah! she will help us.—d’you know where the post-office is, tottie?”
“yes, sir, it’s at the corner of the street, miss lillycrop says.”
“which direction?”
“that one, i think.”
“here, i’m going the other way: will you post this letter for me?”
“yes, sir,” said tottie.
“that’s a good girl; here’s a penny for you.”
“please, sir, that’s not a penny,” said the child, holding out the half-crown which aspel had put in her hand.
“never mind; keep it.”
tottie stood bereft of speech at the youth’s munificence, as he turned away from her with a laugh.
now, when tottie bones said that she knew where the post was, she did so because her mistress had told her, among other pieces of local information, that the pillar letter-box stood at the corner of the street and was painted red; but as no occasion had occurred since her arrival for the posting of a letter, she had not yet seen the pillar with her own eyes. the corner of the street, however, was so plain a direction that no one except an idiot could fail to find it. accordingly tottie started off to execute her mission.
unfortunately—or the reverse, as the case may be—streets have usually two corners. the child went, almost as a matter of course, to the wrong one, and there she found no pillar. but she was a faithful messenger, and not to be easily balked. she sought diligently at that corner until she really did find a pillar, in a retired angle. living, as she did, chiefly in the back slums of london, where literary correspondence is not much in vogue, tottie had never seen a pillar letter-box, or, if she had, had not realised its nature. miss lillycrop had told her it was red, with a slit in it. the pillar she had found was red to some extent with rust, and it unquestionably had a slit in it where, in days gone by, a handle had projected. it also had a spout in front. tottie had some vague idea that this letter-box must have been made in imitation of a pump, and that the spout was a convenient step to enable small people like herself to reach the slit. only, she thought it queer that they should not have put the spout in front of the pillar under the slit, instead of behind it. she was still more impressed with this when, after having twice got on the spout, she twice fell off in futile efforts to reach round the pump with her small arms.
baffled, but not defeated, tottie waited till some one should pass who could put the letter in for her, but in that retired angle no one passed. suddenly her sharp eyes espied a brickbat. she set it up on end beside the pump, mounted it, stood on tip-toe, and, stretching her little body to the very uttermost, tipped the letter safely in. the brickbat tipped over at the same instant and sent her headlong to the ground. but this was no novelty to tottie. regardless of the fall, she gathered herself up, and, with the light heart of one who has gained a victory in the performance of duty, ran off to her miserable home in the back slums.
