Tales of Mean Streets | Page 6

the stations won't hold everybody--and when all else has
palled, you may set fire to the turf. Hereinto Billy and Lizerunt
projected themselves from the doors of the Holly Tree on Whit
Monday morning. But through hours on hours of fried fish and
half-pints both were conscious of a deficiency. For the hat of Lizerunt
was brown and old; plush it was not, and its feather was a mere foot
long and of a very rusty black. Now, it is not decent for a factory girl
from Limehouse to go bank-holidaying under any but a hat of plush,
very high in the crown, of a wild blue or a wilder green, and carrying
withal an ostrich feather, pink or scarlet or what not; a feather that
springs from the fore-part, climbs the crown, and drops as far down the
shoulders as may be. Lizerunt knew this, and, had she had no bloke,
would have stayed at home. But a chance is a chance. As it was, only
another such hapless girl could measure her bitter envy of the feathers
about her, or would so joyfully have given an ear for the proper
splendor. Billy, too, had a vague impression, muddled by but not
drowned in half-pints, that some degree of plush was condign to the
occasion and to his own expenditure. Still, there was no quarrel; and
the pair walked and ran with arms about each other's necks; and
Lizerunt thumped her bloke on the back at proper intervals; so that the

affair went regularly on the whole: although, in view of Lizerunt's
shortcomings, Billy did not insist on the customary exchange of hats.
Everything, I say, went well and well enough until Billy bought a
ladies' tormentor and began to squirt it at Lizerunt. For then Lizerunt
went scampering madly, with piercing shrieks, until her bloke was left
some little way behind, and Sam Cardew, turning up at that moment,
and seeing her running alone in the crowd, threw his arms about her
waist and swung her round him again and again, as he floundered
gallantly this way and that, among the shies and the hokeypokey
barrows.
'`Ullo, Lizer! where are y' a-comin' to? If I 'adn't laid 'old o' ye--!' But
here Billy Chope arrived to demand what the 'ell Sam Cardew was
doing with his gal. Now Sam was ever readier for a fight than Billy was;
but the sun [sum?] of Billy's half-pints was large: wherefore the fight
began. On the skirt of a hilarious ring Lizerunt, after some small outcry,
triumphed aloud. Four days before, she had no bloke; and here she
stood with two, and those two fighting for her! Here in the public gaze,
on the Flats! For almost five minutes she was Helen of Troy.
And in much less time Billy tasted repentance. The haze of half-pints
was dispelled, and some teeth went with it. Presently, whimpering and
with a bloody muzzle, hd rose and made a running kick at the other.
Then, being thwarted in a bolt, he flung himself down; and it was like
to go hard with him at the hands of the crowd. Punch you may on
Wanstead Flats, but execration and worse is your portion if you kick
anybody except your wife. But, as the ring closed, the helmets of two
policemen were seen to be working in over the surrounding heads, and
Sam Cardew, quickly assuming his coat, turned away with such air of
blamelessness as is practicable with a damaged eye; while Billy went
off unheeded in an opposite direction.
Lizerunt and her new bloke went the routine of half-pints and
merry-gorounds, and were soon on right thumping terms; and Lizerunt
was as well satisfied with the issue as she was proud of the adventure.
Billy was all very well; but Sam was better. She resolved to draw him
for a feathered hat before next bank holiday. So the sun went down on

her and her bloke hanging on each other's necks and straggling toward
the Romford Road with shouts and choruses. The rest was tram-car,
Bow Music Hall, half-pints, and darkness.
Billy took home his wounds, and his mother, having moved his wrath
by asking their origin, sought refuge with a neighbor. He accomplished
his revenge in two installments. Two nights later Lizerunt was going
with a jug of beer, when somebody sprung from a dark corner, landed
her under the ear, knocked her sprawling, and made off to the sound of
her lamentations. She did not see who it was, but she knew; and next
day Sam Cardew was swearing he'd break Billy's back. He did not
however, for that same evening a gang of seven or eight fell on him
with sticks and belts. (They were Causeway chaps, while Sam was a
Brady's Laner,