STORY TWO, CHAPTER FIVE.
Number 5 in the court! Come up the four flights of creaking stairs tothe only bright thing in the crowded place--the only bright thing likelyto meet the eye, where squalor, misery, poverty, wretchedness, filth,and sickness ran riot. Breakfast is over, and, so that Jenny's needleshall not be stayed, Dick has himself washed and put away the two cupsand saucers, and now sits by the fire drying the splashes upon his whiteapron. His carpet-cap is upon his head, and his porter's knot restsagainst his chair. The only sound in the room is the click of Jenny'sthimble, as it sends the sharp needle flying through the hard slop-workupon which she is busy.
Pretty? Well, yes, there is the beauty in her face of youth. NoGrecian-cut lines or finely chiselled features, but the simple brightcountenance of an English girl, as she bends over her work.
Jenny's face was never pale, spite of the mephytic gases ofGutter-alley; but the rosy flush upon it deepened as a step was heardupon the stairs, followed by a tap at the door.
A querulous "Come in!" from old Dick, and then a tall, stout youngfellow entered, bearing a basket of violets, whose sweet fragrancefilled the room.
"Oh, it's you, is it, Harry?" said the old man. "Had you got moneyenough?"
"O yes, plenty; but I spent it all," was the reply. "The flowers arerare and fresh this morning."
"That's right, Harry--that's right," quavered the old man. "Set 'emdown--set 'em down. And now what's to pay?"
"Pay? What for?" was the rather gruff response, as the new-comer lookedhard the while at Jenny.
"For your trouble, Harry. You ought to take something for yourtrouble."
"'Tisn't trouble!" said the young man, more gently, still looking hardat Jenny, who never raised her eyes from her work. "When I'm at market,as I've often said before, it isn't much to bring home a few bunches offlowers. I should like to bring them every morning, if I may."
He still glanced at Jenny, as if he hoped that the permission might comefrom her; but she made no sign, and old Dick himself broke the awkwardsilence by thanking the young man once more, and he then took hisdeparture with a disappointed aspect.
The flower-bearer slowly descended the stairs, nettled at the calm,patronising manner adopted by the old man.
"Poor old chap," he muttered; "I wonder what he really does think."
He said no more, for at the foot of the stairs he encountered asmartly-dressed youth, apparently a junior clerk in some city office.
The look which passed between the young men was of no very friendlycharacter; but, directly after, each went upon his way, thinking of hisrival--the violet-bearer to his little half stall, half shop, where he,in a very humble fashion, contrived to make a good living--the other,smiling with contempt, ascending to old Dick Bradds' abode.
For be it known that fair young Jenny Blossom was not without suitors,who were both at this time anything but peaceful at heart, since therewas plenty of jealousy and annoyance at Jenny's coldness. They calledit coldness, though hardly with justice, for the visits were none ofJenny's seeking, since she, poor girl, loved her grandfather, and thoughshe confessed to herself that it was kind of Harry Smith to bring theviolets, and to save her from going to the wet, cold market so early inthe morning, yet she would very much rather that both--well, that MrJohn Wilson, Sharpnesses' clerk, would stay away.
But John Wilson was quite a favourite with the old man, and the intimacyhad arisen when at several times the former had been the bearer ofvarious small gratuities from the great auction firm to their oldporter, while he was weak from his accident. Dick admired the youngfellow's appearance and his smart way of dressing, so different from thefustian of Harry Smith, and upon more than one occasion he proved thatyears had not made him perfect, for said he, "Only think what a goodthing it would be for you, my pet," referring, of course, to JohnWilson's attentions; "what would become of you if I were taken away?"
Jenny said nothing, and the old man talked on under the impression thataffairs were as they were years before, and quite oblivious of the factthat Jenny had been for some time past his sole stay and support; andthat if the young girl, with her busy fingers morning and evening, andthe sale of her violets in the cold streets in the afternoon, couldsupply sustenance for both, her fate would not have been so very hardhad he been taken away.
But there were other feelings animating the breast of old Dick Bradds,and he would have liked to see that the young girl had some one to takehis place as protector before the great change came, about which henever attempted self-deceit.