The Frobishers/Chapter 20
A HAMPER OF HOLLY
Two days before Christmas Hector Beaudessart arrived at the station together with a large and heavy hamper, which he consigned to the porter, and bade him take charge of it till it was called for.
Hector was not quite easy in his mind in accompanying the promised supply of holly.
The Frobisher girls had distinctly emphasised their desire not to be traced; but a good deal of concern had been prevalent in the neighbourhood of Pendabury as to their fate. Some thought that they were in a condition of real destitution, and that they had disappeared from the district, ashamed to have their state known and talked about. They had no relations, though they had many friends.
Rumours more or less extravagant and absurd circulated concerning them.
Hector's mother had been greatly troubled on their account, and Hector's mind had been disturbed.
At length the tension became unendurable; he resolved on risking the displeasure of Joan Frobisher, and on discovering in what condition she and her sister actually were, so as to intervene in a peremptory manner, should they be in difficulties. He was determined, if possible, not to show himself, and not to allow them to become aware that he had made inquiries about them. He would but satisfy his own mind and that of his mother, without disconcerting Joan, unless there were real occasion for his appearing on the scene.
He was too honourable not to shrink from the semblance of doing an ungentlemanly act, such as prying into the condition of the girls might be taken to be. Yet he felt that a duty devolved upon him to act, so far as might be, as their protector, against possible dangers into which, in their ignorance of the world, they might unwarily step. They were young, and had no natural guardian; they were badly off, and someone must assume a right to see that they did not succumb under their misfortunes, and no other person had so great a claim to do so as himself.
By this means he satisfied his conscience.
As Hector stood outside the straggling station, looking up a long road that had not as yet dared to call itself a street, doubtful what to do and whither to go, he was accosted by an urchin of apparently twelve years, to judge by his size, but with an old-young face that might belong to one at any age under twenty. The eye was bright and the face smooth; there were, however, hollows under the temples, and sunken cheeks and a pinched throat that proclaimed privation.
"Shall I carry your portmantle, sir?"
"No, thank you—not just now. Let me see. Do you belong to the station?"
"No, sir, the station belongs to me. I'm one of the gen'l public, and if the gen'l public didn't favour it, where'd the Co. be as runs the line?"
"Are you here all day?"
"Yes, sir, and part of the night."
"I daresay you would not object to earn half a crown?"
"None at all, but why split it? Stretch a point and make it a crown. But nothing underhand, you know."
"No impertinence! There is a hamper of holly left at the station to be called for. I want you to watch and discover who fetches it, and whither it is taken, and then to inform me."
"Shell out!" shouted the boy. "Right you are."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm the chap commissioned to fetch that there 'amper when it arrives."
"It is addressed to a Miss Frobisher."
"I know her, Joan. She's a topper. She sent me arter it yesterday, but it hadn't come to 'and; so I was bid look out for it to-day. I've earned that 'arfcrown fair and honourable, so you plank up at once."
"You scaramouch, you shall have it. Go at once and fetch the hamper—but I forewarn you, it is too heavy for you to carry."
"Then there's something in it more than holly," said the boy, with a wink.
"That is no concern of yours. You are to convey it to Miss Frobisher's house."
"All right, guv'ner. I'll borrer a barrer over at yond coalshed to begin with. They know me there, intimate; and me and the manager entertains mutual respect. I'll 'ave the 'amper on a barrer in the cock of yer eye."
"Stay a moment. What do you know of Miss Frobisher? Does she live at a distance?"
"Every blessed place is at a distance from this bloomin' station, heaven farthest of all. Know Joan Frobisher?—of course I do. I'm invited to eat my Christmas dinner with her. Got the invite card at 'ome, stuck in my glass, with R.S.V.P. in the corner."
"I don't believe a word of it," said Hector, reddening, and staring at the boy.
"True; I was so afraid of forgettin' it, that I thort I'd tie a knot in my pockernankey, and I twisted about to look for it—but blowed I haven't one, so I knotted up my fingers, as serves the same purpose instead. Look, here you are!" And he held up one hand with the fingers curled together.
The boy leered roguishly into Hector's face.
"Now do you believe the word of a gem'man? I know them gals, intimate, I do. When the Wake comes, and there's 'oliday, see if I don't take off the elder to the seaside and give 'er a buster on ginger pop and shrimps."
"Look here, you unmitigated piece of effrontery, I want to know where the Misses Frobisher live; but spare me your impudence."
"You can foller yer betters. Come arter me and my barrer, and see for yourself."
"The young ladies," exclaimed Hector, "are a sort of relation of mine."
He was vexed with himself for stooping to an explanation to such an imp.
"Oh, ah!" said the boy, turning his head to leer at him, "do you see any green in my eye?" He shook his lean sides with laughing. "Oh yes! that's about it, eh? There's a speakin' family likeness, I must say. You've the fine, languishing brown eyes of Joan, and both the gals has your curled parsnip 'air, ain't they? You weren't born to be a Lipton and make your fortune out of gammon, 'ome cured, prime cut; so don't attempt to try it on, when you're not qualified for success in that line."
The boy scampered away, splashing regardlessly through mud in quest of a wheelbarrow, and when he had obtained one, went for the hamper, which he mounted on it, and started trundling his load along the way to the town.
Hector looked about him. The place was smoke-blackened, rain-soddened under a sky like a ragged, dripping umbrella. Not a bush, not a tree; only coils of smoke rolling across the sky. Moisture trickled from the grimy faces of the habitations like tears of diluted blacking. The wet wind piped in the electric wires. Trams ran by screaming. No sign of beauty, no sound of sweetness, no savour of health were there.
"Boy," said Hector, striding to the side of the lad, "can you tell me whether—Miss Frobisher is likely to be at home when you arrive with the hamper?"
"And you tailing arter?" asked Tom, winking.
"Is she likely to be at home, I asked."
"Give me a cigarette, and I'll return you an answer."
"It is bad for an undersized chap like you to smoke. Tobacco is poison to children," said Hector, nevertheless giving the boy what he had desired.
"Then you should 'ave the sense to deny me," retorted the boy. "You've no moral courage, and no 'igh principles, you 'aven't, and I'm ashamed of yer. You're of a piece with the gen'l public, you are. The gen'l public when they wants a thing will 'ave it, and don't care what suffrin' and ill is done to those who pervide—so long as they gets it."
"But you," said Hector, "knowing it to be bad for your growth, should refrain from smoking."
"Bah! To make me grow, it requires beef and mutton. It's none of them I'm like to get. I'll enjoy my cigarette, and when my time comes, I'll turn up my toes to the cinders, as there ain't no daisies to turn 'em to."
"You have not answered my question."
"The gals will be at the bank."
"What bank? The Staffordshire County Bank?"
"Get along with you for a greenhorn. The potbank is where they are, making ware for you to eat off and drink your corfey out of and wash your 'ands in. Do you twig now, guv'ner?"
"Are they working there?"
"You don't think they're gone there to choose a twenty guinea set o' dessert plates, do you?"
"What is your name, boy?"
"If yer want to draw me out a cheque, it's Tom Treddlehoyle, Esquire, of the Marlpit corner."
"Tom, answer me civilly, and serve me honestly"—
"Couldn't do no other," interrupted the urchin.
"And I will reward you handsomely. Do you mean, in sober seriousness, to tell me that Miss Frobisher"—
"Oh! ah! it's the elder you're thinking on."
"Be quiet and attend to what I say. Do you seriously inform me that the Misses Frobisher are engaged in a pot factory as common hands?"
"They're rather uncommon hands, I take it," replied the lad. "For one is a right and left hand together, and the t'other is just no hand at all. Of course they work. How else is folk to live? Don't you work?"
Hector was silent for a few moments.
He thought of Pendabury and its luxury, and the contrast in the life of these girls; between its ease and indulgence at one time, and its present toil.
"Tom," said Hector after a while, "I do not wish to let myself be seen by them nor that they should know that I have instituted inquiries about them. They have friends who will not allow them to want."
"They are not like to want—unless they get leaded."
"Leaded!"
"Ay, poisoned with the lead. Many do. They must take their chance with the rest. There—this is the street, and yonder is Fennings' bank, where they work. No. 16 is their house. Will you knock?"
"No," said Hector, "I do not choose to be seen. Tom, seal your tongue with this," and he put half a sovereign into the lad's hand.