The Garret and the Garden | Page 5

the tangled scrub on a neglected common, or the frontal
locks of a Highland bull.
"That's bad, Susy," remarked old Liz, pushing the fang about with her
tongue for a few seconds. "You see, I had made up my mind to go
down to-night and have a chat with Mrs Rampy, and I wouldn't like to
visit her without my teapot. The dear old woman is so fond of a cup of
tea, and she don't often get it good, poor thing. No, I shouldn't like to
go without my teapot, it would disappoint her, you know--though I've
no doubt she would be glad to see me even empty-handed."
"I should just think she would!" said Susy with a laugh, as she stooped
to arrange some of the fastenings of her garden, "I should just think she
would. Indeed, I doubt if that dear old woman would be alive now but
for you, granny."
The girl emphasised the "dear" laughingly, for Mrs Rampy was one of
those middle-aged females of the destitute class whose hearts have
been so steeled against their kind by suffering and drink as to render
them callous to most influences. The proverbial "soft spot" in Mrs
Rampy's heart was not reached until an assault had been made on it by
chimney-pot Liz with her teapot. Even then it seemed as if the softness
of the spot were only of the gutta-percha type.
"Perhaps not, perhaps not my dear," returned old Liz, with that pleased
little smile with which she was wont to recognise a philanthropic
success a smile which always had the effect of subduing the tooth, and
rendering the plain face almost beautiful.
Although bordering on the lowest state of destitution--and that is a
remarkably low state in London!--old Liz had an air of refinement
about her tones, words, and manner which was very different from that

of the poor people around her. This was not altogether, though partly,
due to her Christianity. The fact is, the old woman had "seen better
days." For fifty years she had been nurse in an amiable and wealthy
family, the numerous children of which seemed to have been born to
bloom for a few years in the rugged garden of this world, and then be
transplanted to the better land. Only the youngest son survived. He
entered the army and went to India--that deadly maelstrom which has
swallowed up so much of British youth and blood and beauty! When
the old couple became bankrupt and died, the old nurse found herself
alone and almost destitute in the world.
It is not our purpose to detail here the sad steps by which she descended
to the very bottom of the social ladder, taking along with her Susan, her
adopted daughter and the child of a deceased fellow-servant. We
merely tell thus much to account for her position and her partial
refinement--both of which conditions she shared with Susan.
"Now then," said the latter, "I must go, granny. Stickle and Screw are
not the men to overlook faults. If I'm a single minute late I shall have to
pay for it."
"And quite right, Susy, quite right. Why should Stickle and Screw lose
a minute of their people's work? Their people would be angry enough if
they were to be paid a penny short of their wages! Besides, the firm
employs over two hundred hands, and if every one of these was to be
late a minute there would be two hundred minutes gone--nigh four
hours, isn't it? You should be able to count that right off, Susy, havin'
been so long at the Board-school."
"I don't dispute it, granny," said the girl with a light laugh, as she stood
in front of a triangular bit of looking-glass tying on her poor but neatly
made hat. "And I am usually three or four minutes before my time, but
Stickle and Screw are hard on us in other ways, so different from
Samson and Son, where Lily Hewat goes. Now, I'm off. I'll be sure to
be back by half-past nine or soon after."
As the girl spoke, footsteps were heard ascending the creaky wooden
stair. Another moment and Tommy Splint entering with a theatrical air,

announced--
"A wisitor!"
He was closely followed by Sam Blake, who no sooner beheld Susy
than he seemed to become paralysed, for he stood gazing at her as if in
eager but helpless amazement.
Susy was a good deal surprised at this, but feeling that if she were to
wait for the clearing up of the mystery she would infallibly be late in
reaching the shop of the exacting Stickle and Screw, she swept lightly
past the seaman with a short laugh, and ran down-stairs.
Without a word of explanation Sam sprang after her, but, although
smart