Tommy and Co. | Page 4

That he had received no answer to his question appeared to have
escaped the attention of Mr. Peter Hope. The thin, white hand moved
steadily to and fro across the paper. Three more sheets were added to
those upon the floor. Then Mr. Peter Hope pushed back his chair and
turned his gaze for the first time upon his visitor.
To Peter Hope, hack journalist, long familiar with the genus Printer's

Devil, small white faces, tangled hair, dirty hands, and greasy caps
were common objects in the neighbourhood of that buried rivulet, the
Fleet. But this was a new species. Peter Hope sought his spectacles,
found them after some trouble under a heap of newspapers, adjusted
them upon his high, arched nose, leant forward, and looked long and up
and down.
"God bless my soul!" said Mr. Peter Hope. "What is it?"
The figure rose to its full height of five foot one and came forward
slowly.
Over a tight-fitting garibaldi of blue silk, excessively decollete, it wore
what once had been a boy's pepper-and-salt jacket. A worsted
comforter wound round the neck still left a wide expanse of throat
showing above the garibaldi. Below the jacket fell a long, black skirt,
the train of which had been looped up about the waist and fastened with
a cricket-belt.
"Who are you? What do you want?" asked Mr. Peter Hope.
For answer, the figure, passing the greasy cap into its other hand,
stooped down and, seizing the front of the long skirt, began to haul it
up.
"Don't do that!" said Mr. Peter Hope. "I say, you know, you--"
But by this time the skirt had practically disappeared, leaving to view a
pair of much-patched trousers, diving into the right-hand pocket of
which the dirty hand drew forth a folded paper, which, having opened
and smoothed out, it laid upon the desk.
Mr. Peter Hope pushed up his spectacles till they rested on his
eyebrows, and read aloud--"'Steak and Kidney Pie, 4d.; Do. (large size),
6d.; Boiled Mutton--'"
"That's where I've been for the last two weeks," said the figure,--
"Hammond's Eating House!"

The listener noted with surprise that the voice--though it told him as
plainly as if he had risen and drawn aside the red rep curtains, that
outside in Gough Square the yellow fog lay like the ghost of a dead
sea--betrayed no Cockney accent, found no difficulty with its aitches.
"You ask for Emma. She'll say a good word for me. She told me so."
"But, my good--" Mr. Peter Hope, checking himself, sought again the
assistance of his glasses. The glasses being unable to decide the point,
their owner had to put the question bluntly:
"Are you a boy or a girl?"
"I dunno."
"You don't know!"
"What's the difference?"
Mr. Peter Hope stood up, and taking the strange figure by the shoulders,
turned it round slowly twice, apparently under the impression that the
process might afford to him some clue. But it did not.
"What is your name?"
"Tommy."
"Tommy what?"
"Anything you like. I dunno. I've had so many of 'em."
"What do you want? What have you come for?"
"You're Mr. Hope, ain't you, second floor, 16, Gough Square?"
"That is my name."
"You want somebody to do for you?"

"You mean a housekeeper!"
"Didn't say anything about housekeeper. Said you wanted somebody to
do for you--cook and clean the place up. Heard 'em talking about it in
the shop this afternoon. Old lady in green bonnet was asking Mother
Hammond if she knew of anyone."
"Mrs. Postwhistle--yes, I did ask her to look out for someone for me.
Why, do you know of anyone? Have you been sent by anybody?"
"You don't want anything too 'laborate in the way o' cooking? You was
a simple old chap, so they said; not much trouble."
"No--no. I don't want much--someone clean and respectable. But why
couldn't she come herself? Who is it?"
"Well, what's wrong about me?"
"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Peter Hope.
"Why won't I do? I can make beds and clean rooms--all that sort o'
thing. As for cooking, I've got a natural aptitude for it. You ask Emma;
she'll tell you. You don't want nothing 'laborate?"
"Elizabeth," said Mr. Peter Hope, as he crossed and, taking up the
poker, proceeded to stir the fire, "are we awake or asleep?"
Elizabeth thus appealed to, raised herself on her hind legs and dug her
claws into her master's thigh. Mr. Hope's trousers being thin, it was the
most practical answer she could have given him.
"Done a lot of looking after other people for their benefit," continued
Tommy. "Don't see why I shouldn't do it for my own."
"My dear--I do wish I knew whether you were a boy or a girl. Do you
seriously