for breakfast, you can wash and dress yourself,dearie."
But poor Flo could not help wondering, as Mrs Jenks in her brisk cleverway unbandaged her foot, and applied that pleasant strengthening lotion,who would do it for her to-morrow morning, or would she have any lotionto put. She longed to find courage to ask Mrs Jenks to allow her totake away what was left in the bottle, perhaps by the time it wasfinished her foot would be well.
And Flo knew perfectly, how important it was for her, unless she wasutterly to starve, that that lame foot should get well. She rememberedonly too vividly what hard times Janey, even with a father and motherliving, had to pull along with her lame foot, but she could not findcourage to ask for the lotion, and Mrs Jenks, after using a sufficientquantity, corked up the remainder and put it carefully away.
"There's an improvement here," said the little woman, touching theinjured ankle. "There's more nerve, and strength, and firmness. You'llbe able to walk to-day."
"I'll try, ma'am," said Flo.
"So you shall, and you can lean on me--I'll bear your weight. Now getup, dearie."
As Flo dressed herself she felt immensely comforted. It was veryevident from Mrs Jenks' words, that she intended going with her to hercellar, she herself would take her back to her wretched home.
To do this she must give up her day's charing, so Flo knew that hergoing away was of some importance to the little woman, and the thought,as I have said, comforted her greatly.
She dressed herself quickly and neatly, and after kneeling, andrepeating "Our Father" quite through very softly under her breath, thethree--the woman, child, and dog--sat down to breakfast. It would beabsurd to speak of it in any other way.
In that household Scamp ate with the others, he drew up as gravely toevery meal as Mrs Jenks did herself.
His eyes were on a level with the table, and he looked so at home, soassured of his right to be there, and withal so anxious and expectant,and he had such a funny way of cocking his ears when a piece of nicefried herring was likely to go his way, that he was a constant source ofmirth? and pleasure to the human beings with whom he resided.
Mrs Jenks was one of the most frugal little women in the world; never acrumb was wasted in her little home, but she always managed to havesomething savoury for every meal, and the savoury things she bought wererendered more so by her judicious cooking. Her red herrings, forinstance, just because she knew where to buy them, and how to dressthem, did not taste at all like poor Flo's red herrings, cooked againstthe bars, and eaten with her fingers in the Duncan Street cellar.
So it was with all her food; it was very plain, very inexpensive, but ofits kind it was the best, and was so nicely served that appetites farmore fastidious than Flo's would have enjoyed it.
On this morning, however, the three divided their herring and sippedtheir tea (Scamp had evinced quite a liking for tea) in silence, andwhen it was over, and Flo was wondering how soon she could break the iceand ask Mrs Jenks _when_ she meant to take her to Duncan Street, shewas startled by the little woman saying to her in her briskest andbrightest tones--
"I wonder, child, whether I'd best trim up that old bonnet of yourmother's for you to wear, or will you go with yer little head exposed tothe sun?
"The bonnet's very old, that's certain, but then 'tis something of aprotection, and the sun's 'ot."
"Please, ma'am," said Flo, "I can walk werry well wid my head bare; butef you doesn't mind I'd like to carry 'ome the bonnet, fur it wasmother's Sunday best, it wor."
"Lor, child, you're not going home yet awhile, you've got to go and paya visit with me. Here, show me the bonnet--I'll put a piece of decentbrown upon it, and mend it up." Which Mrs Jenks did, and with herneat, capable fingers transformed it into by no means sogrotesque-looking an object.
Then when it was tied on Flo's head they set off.
"A lady wishes to see you, Flo, and she wishes to see Scamp too,"explained Mrs Jenks; and calling the dog, they went slowly out of thecourt.
Flo had very little time for wonder, for the lady in question lived buta few doors away, and notwithstanding her slow and painful walking shegot to her house in a very few moments.
It was a tiny house, quite a scrap of a house to be found in any part ofthe middle of London--a house back from its neighbours, with littleGothic windows, and a great tree sheltering it. How it came to passthat no railway company, or improvement company, or company of somethingelse, had not pounced upon it and pulled it down years ago remained amarvel; however, there it stood, and to its hall door walked Mrs Jenks,Flo, and Scamp, now.
The door was opened by a neat little parlour-maid, who grinned from earto ear at sight of Mrs Jenks.
"Is your mistress at home, Annie?"
"That she is, ma'am, and looking out for you. You're all to come rightin, she says--the dog and all."
So Flo found herself in a pretty hall, bright with Indian matting, andsome fresh ferns towering up high in a great stone jar of water.
"We was in the country yesterday, ma'am, Miss Mary and me, and havebrought back flowers, and them 'igh green things enough to fill a housewith 'em," explained the little handmaid as she trotted on in front,down one flight of stairs and up another, until she conducted them intoa long low room, rendered cool and summery by the shade of the greattree outside. This room to-day was, as Annie the servant expressed it,like a flower garden. Hydrangeas, roses, carnations, wild flowers,ferns, stood on every pedestal, filled twenty, thirty vases, some ofrarest china, some of commonest delf, but cunningly hid now by all kindsof delicate foliage. It was a strange little house for the midst of thecity, a strange little bower of a room, cool, sweet-scented, carryingthose who knew the country miles away into its shadiest depths--a roomfurnished with antique old carvings and odd little black-legged spindlechairs.
On one of the walls hung a solitary picture, a water-colour framedwithout margin, in a broad gilt frame.
A masterpiece of art it was--of art, I say? something far beyond art--genius.
It made the effect of the charming little room complete, and not onlycarried one to the country, but straight away at once to the seashore.Those who saw it thought of the beech on summer evenings, of the happydays when they were young. It was a picture of waves--waves dancing andin motion, waves with the white froth foaming on them, and the sunlightglancing on their tops. No other life in the picture, neither ship norbird, but the waves were so replete with their own life that the saltfresh breeze seemed to blow on your face as you gazed.
The effect was so marvellous, so great and strong, that Flo and MrsJenks both neglected the flowers, only taking them in as accessories,and went and stood under the picture.
"Ah! there's the sea," said Mrs Jenks with a great sigh, and a passingcloud, not of pain, but of an old grief, on her face.
"The sea shall give up her dead," said a young voice by her side, andturning quickly, Flo saw one of the most peculiar, and perhaps one ofthe most beautiful, women she had ever looked at. Was she old? Thehair that circled her low forehead was snowy white. Was she young? Hervoice was round, flexible, full of music, rich with all the sympathy ofgenerous youth.
She might be thirty--forty--fifty--any age. She had a story--whohasn't?
She had met with sorrow--who hasn't? But she had conquered and risenabove sorrow, as her pale, calm, unwrinkled face testified. She was abrave woman, a succourer of the oppressed, a friend in the house oftrouble, or mourning, as the pathetic, dark grey eyes, which looked outat you from under their straight black brows, declared. Long afterwardsshe told Flo in half-a-dozen simple words her history.
"God took away from me all, child--father--mother--lover--home. He mademe quite empty, and then left me so for a little time, to let me feelwhat it was like: but when I had tasted the full bitterness, He came andfilled me with Himself--brim full of Himself. Then I had my missionfrom Him. Go feed my sheep--go feed my lambs. Is it not enough?"
"You like my picture, Mrs Jenks," she said now, "and so does thechild," touching F
lo as she spoke with the tips of her white fingers."Come into this room and I will show you another--there."
She led the way into a little room rendered dark, not by the great tree,but by Venetian blinds. Over the mantel-piece was another solitarypicture--again a water-colour.
Some cows, four beautifully sketched, ease-loving creatures, standingwith their feet in a pool of clear water: sedgy, marshy ground behindthem, a few broken trees, and a ridge of low hills in the background--over all the evening sky.
"That picture," said the lady, "is called `Repose,'--to me it is reposewith stagnation; I like my waves better."
"And yet, Miss Mary," replied the widow, "how restful and trustful thedumb creatures look! I think they read us a