CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
A NEW PHASE OF LIFE.
"Mother," said Master William Willders one night to his parent, as hesat at supper--which meal consisted of bread and milk; "he's thejolliest old feller, that Mr Tippet, I ever came across."
"I'm glad you like him, Willie," said Mrs Willders, who was busypatching the knees of a pair of small unmentionables; "but I wish, dear,that you would not use slang in your speech, and remember that fellow isnot spelt with an e-r at the end of it."
"Come now, mother, don't you go an' get sarcastic. It don't suit you;besides, there's no occasion for it,--for I do my best to keep it down,but I'm so choke full of it that a word or two will spurt up now andthen in spite o' me."
Mrs Willders smiled and continued her patching; Willie grinned andcontinued his supper.
"Mother," said Willie, after an interval of silence.
"Well, my son?"
"What d'ye think the old feller--ah! I mean fellow--is up to just now?"
"I don't know, Willie."
"He's inventin' a calc'latin' machine, as is to do anythin' from simpleaddition to fractions, an' he says if it works well he'll carry it on toalgebra an' mathematics, up to the fizmal calc'lus, or somethin' o' thatsort. Oh, you've no notion how he strains himself at it. He sits downin his shirt-sleeves at a writin'-table he's got in a corner, an' tearsaway at the little hair he has on the sides of his head (I do believe hetore it all off the top with them inventions), then he bangs up an'seizes his tools, and shouts, `Look here, Willie, hold on!' an' goessawin' and chisellin' and hammerin' away like a steam-engine. He's allbut bu'st himself over that calc'latin' machine, and I'm much afraidthat he'll clap Chips into the sausage-machine some day, just to see howit works. I hope he won't, for Chips an' I are great friends, thoughwe've only bin a month together."
"I hope he's a good man," said Mrs Willders thoughtfully.
"Well, I'm sure he must be!" cried Willie with enthusiasm, "for he isvery kind to me, and also to many poor folk that come about himregularly. I'm gettin' to know their faces now, and when to expect 'em.He always takes 'em into his back room--all sorts, old men and oldwomen an' children, most of 'em seedy enough, but some of 'em well offto _look_ at. What he says to 'em I don't know, but they usually comeout very grave, an go away thankin' him, and sayin' they won't forgethis advice. If the advice is to come back soon they certainly _don't_forget it! And he's a great philosopher, too, mother, for he oftentalks to me about my int'lec's. He said jist t'other day, `Willie,'said he, `get into a habit o' usin' yer brains, my boy. The Almightyput us into this world well-made machines, intended to be used in allour parts. Now, you'll find thousands of people who use their musclesand neglect their brains, and thousands of others who use their brainsand neglect their muscles. Both are wrong, boy; we're machines, lad--wonderful machines--and the machines won't work well if they're not used_all_ over.' Don't that sound grand, mother?"
Willie might have received an answer if he had waited for one, but hewas too impatient, and went rattling on.
"And who d'ye think, mother, came to see old Tippet the other day, butlittle Cattley, the clown's boy. You remember my tellin' you aboutlittle Cattley and the auction, don't you?"
"Yes, Willie."
"Well, he came, and just as he was goin' away I ran out an' asked himhow the fairy was. `She's very ill,' he said, shakin' his head, andlookin' so mournful that I had not the heart to ask more. But I'm goin'to see them, mother."
"That's right, my boy," said Mrs Willders, with a pleased look; "I liketo hear you talk of going to see people in distress. `Blessed are theythat consider the poor,' Willie."
"Oh, as to that, you know, I don't know that they _are_ poor. Only Ifeel sort o' sorry for 'em, somehow, and I'm awful anxious to see a reallive fairy, even though she _is_ ill."
"When are you going?" inquired Mrs Willders.
"To-morrow night, on my way home."
"Did you look in at Frank's lodging in passing to-night?"
"Yes, I did, and found that he was in the station on duty again. Itwasn't a bad sprain, you see, an' it'll teach him not to go jumpin' outof a first-floor window again."
"He couldn't help it," said the widow. "You know his escape by thestair had been cut off, and there was no other way left."
"No other way!" cried Willie; "why didn't he _drop_? He's so proud ofhis strength, is Blazes, that he jumped off-hand a' purpose to show it!Ha! he'd be the better of some o' my caution. Now, mother, I'm off tobed."
"Get the Bible, then," said Mrs Willders.
Willie got up and fetched a large old family Bible from a shelf, andlaid it on the table before his mother, who read a chapter and prayedwith her son; after which Willie gave her one of his "roystering" kissesand went to bed.
The lamps had been lighted for some time next night, and theshop-windows were pouring forth their bright rays, making the streetsappear as light as day, when Willie found himself in the smalldisreputable street near London Bridge in which Cattley the clown dwelt.
Remembering the directions given to him by little Jim Cattley, he soonfound the underground abode near the burnt house, the ruins of which hadalready been cleared away and a considerable portion of a new tenementerected.
If the stair leading to the clown's dwelling was dark, the passage atthe foot of it was darker; and as Willie groped his way carefully along,he might have imagined it to be a place inhabited only by rats or cats,had not gleams of light, and the sound of voices from sundry closeddoors, betokened the presence of human beings. Of the compound smellspeculiar to the place, those of beer and tobacco predominated.
At the farther end of this passage, there was an abrupt turn to theleft, which brought the boy unexpectedly to a partially open door, wherea scene so strange met his eyes that he involuntarily stood still andgazed.
In a corner of the room, which was almost destitute of furniture, alittle girl, wan, weary, and thin, lay on a miserable pallet, withscanty covering over her. Beside her stood Cattley--not, as when firstintroduced, in a seedy coat and hat; but in full stage costume--withthree balls on his head, white face, triangular roses on his cheeks, andhis mouth extended outward and upward at the corners, by means of redpaint. Little Jim sat on the bed beside his sister, clad in pinkskin-tights, with cheeks and face similar to his father, and a red crestor comb of worsted on his head.
"Ziza, darling, are you feeling better, my lamb?" said the elder clown,with a gravity of expression in his real mouth that contrasted strangelywith the expression conveyed by the painted corners.
"No, father, not much; but perhaps I'm gettin' better, though I don'tfeel it," said the sweet, faint voice of the child, as she opened herlarge hollow eyes, and looked upward.
"So, that's the fairy!" thought Willie sadly, as he gazed on the child'sbeautiful though wasted features.
"We'll have done d'rectly, darling," said the clown tenderly; "only onemore turn, and then we'll leave you to rest quietly for some hours.Now, then, here we are again!" he added, bounding into the middle of theroom with a wild laugh. "Come along, Jim, try that jump once more."
Jim did not speak; but pressing his lips to his sister's brow, leapedafter his sire, who was standing an a remarkably vigorous attitude, withhis legs wide apart and his arms akimbo, looking back over his shoulder.
"Here we go," cried Jim in a tiny voice, running up his father's leg andside, stepping lightly on his shoulder, and planting one foot on hishead.
"Jump down," said the clown gravely.
Jim obeyed.
"That won't do, Jim. You must do it all in one run; no pausing on theway--but, whoop! up you go, and both feet on my head at once. Don't beafeard; you can't tumble, you know."
"I'm not afeard, father," said Jim; "but I ain't quite springy in myheart to-night. Stand again and see if I don't do it right off."
Cattley the elder threw himself into the required attitude; and Cattleyjunior, rushed at him, ran up him as a cat runs up a tree, and in amoment was
standing on his father's head with his arms extended.Whoop!--next moment he was turning round in the air; and whoop! inanother moment he was standing on the ground, bowing respectfully to asupposed audience.
To Jim's immense amazement, the supposed audience applauded himheartily; and said, "Bravyo! young 'un," as it stepped into the room, inthe person of William Willders.
"Why! who may _you_ be?" inquired the clown senior, stepping up to theintruder.
Before Willie could answer the clown junior sprang on his father'sshoulders, and whispered in his ear. Whatever he said, the result wasan expression of benignity and condescension on the clown's face--as faras paint would allow of such expression.
"Glad to meet you, Master Willders," he said. "Proud to know anyoneconnected with T. Tippet, Esquire, who's a trump. Give us your flipper.What may be the object of your unexpected, though welcome visit to thisthis subterraneous grotto, which may be said to be next door to thecoral caves, where the mermaids dwell."
"Yes, and there's one o' the mermaids singing," remarked the clownjunior, with a comical leer, as a woman's voice was heard in violentaltercation with some one. "She's a sayin' of her prayers now;beseechin' of her husband to let her have her own way."
Willie explained that, having had the pleasure of meeting with Jim at anauction sale some weeks ago, he had called to renew his acquaintance;and Jim said he remembered the incident--and that, if he was notmistaken, a desire to see a live fairy in plain clo'se, with her wingsoff, had something to do with his visit.
"Here she is;--by the way, what's your name?"
"Bill Willders."
"Here she is, Bill; this is the fairy," he said, in quite an alteredtone, as he went to the bed, and took one of his sister's thin hands inboth of his. "Ziza, this is the feller I told ye of, as wanted to seeyou, dear; b'longs to Mr Tippet."
Ziza smiled faintly, as she extended her hand to Willie, who took it andpressed it gently.
Willie felt a wonderfully strong sensation within his heart as he lookedinto the sufferer's large liquid eyes; and for a few seconds he couldnot speak. Suddenly he exclaimed, "Well, you ain't one bit like what Iexpected to see. You're more like a angel than a fairy."
Ziza smiled again, and said she didn't feel like either the one or theother.
"My poor lamb," said the clown, sitting down on the bed, and parting thedark hair on Ziza's forehead, with a hand as gentle as that of a mother,"we're goin' now. Time's up. Shall I ask Mrs Smith to stay with youagain, till we come back?"
"Oh, no, no!" cried the child hurriedly, and squeezing her fingers intoher eyes, as if to shut out some disagreeable object. "Not Mrs Smith.I'd rather be alone."
"I _wish_ I could stay with you, Ziza," said Jim earnestly.
"It's of no use wishin', Jim," said his father, "you can't get off asingle night. If you was to fail 'em you'd lose your engagement, and wecan't afford that just at this time, you know; but I'll try to get MrsJames to come. She's a good woman, I know, and--"
"Mister Cattley," interrupted Willie, "if you'll allow a partic'larlyhumble individual to make a observation, I would say there's nothin' inlife to prevent me from keeping this 'ere fairy company till you comeback. I've nothin' particular to do as I knows on, an' I'm raither fondof lonely meditation; so if the fairy wants to go to sleep, it'll makeno odds to me, so long's it pleases her."
"Thankee, lad," said the clown; "but you'll git wearied, I fear, for wewon't be home till mornin'--"
"Ah!" interrupted Willie, "till daylight does appear. But that's noodds, neither--'cause I'm not married yet, so there's nobody awaitin'for me--and" (he winked to Jim at this point) "my mother knows I'm out."
The clown grinned at this. "You'd make one of _us_, youngster," saidhe, "if ye can jump. Howsever, I'm obliged by your offer, so you canstay if Ziza would like it."
Ziza said she _would_ like it with such goodwill, that Willie adored herfrom that moment, and vowed in his heart he would nurse her till she--hedid not like to finish the sentence; yet, somehow, the little that hehad heard and seen of the child led him irresistibly to the conclusionthat she was dying.
This having been satisfactorily arranged, the Cattleys, senior andjunior, threw cloaks round them, exchanged their wigs for caps; and,regardless of the absurd appearance of their faces, hurried out to oneof the minor theatres, with heavy hearts because of the little fairyleft so ill and comfortless at home.
In a few minutes they were tumbling on the stage, cracking their jokes,and convulsing the house with laughter.