Part 16 (1/2)
The clothes and boots were made up in a parcel by this time. Philip hurried away, glad to escape further questioning.
”Queer sort o' kid, that,” mused the shopkeeper. ”My, but 'e must ha'
bin 'ard up afore 'e took on wiv' a Jew. Wot did 'e s'y 'is nyme was?
Isaacstein? I've seen that somewhere or other. Now where was it?”
He knew two hours later, for he, too, read the evening paper.
Philip sprang into a 'bus for the Bank. At the Royal Exchange he would catch a green 'bus for the Mile End Road.
It was almost dark when he reached the Bank. Thus far the omnibuses going east were not crowded. Now the situation had changed.
The human eddy in that throbbing center of life was sending off its swirls to all points of the compa.s.s, and the eastbound vehicles were boarded by an eager crowd almost before the pa.s.sengers arriving at the terminus could descend.
A poor woman, greatly hampered by a baby, was struggling with others to obtain a seat in the Mile End Road 'bus. Philip, coming late on the scene, saw her swept ruthlessly aside by a number of men and boys. The conductor jerked the bell-rope several times. There was no more room.
The woman, white-faced and disappointed, looked around with a woe-begone expression. Philip, who would have gladly paid for a cab to take her to her destination, dared do nothing of the sort. But he said:
”Keep close to me. I will get you a seat in the next 'bus.”
”Oh, I wish you would,” she said, with a wan smile. ”I am so tired. I have walked here from Shepherd's Bush.”
”That's a long way to carry a baby.”
”What could I do? People won't take care of children without payment. I heard I could get work in a laundry there, so I went to look after it.
There's nothing to be had down our way, is there?”
”Things turn up suddenly,” said Philip.
”Not for the poor, my lad. I fear you know that without my telling you.
But you are young, and will soon be a man.”
Her wistful tone went to his heart.
”Didn't you succeed at the laundry?” he inquired.
”Yes; I ought to be thankful. I can earn nine s.h.i.+llings a week there. I start on Monday.”
”Isn't your husband at work?”
”He is dead. Poor fellow, he caught cold last Christmas, and was buried in January. G.o.d only knows how I have lived since. If it wasn't for the kindness of neighbors, baby and I would have starved. I can ill afford this tuppence, but I can't walk any further.”
”Well, look out now,” he said, cheerily. ”Here's our 'bus.”
As the vehicle drew up he caught the bra.s.s rail with his left hand, and warded off a.s.sailants with the bundle under his right arm.
”Quick,” he said to the woman, as soon as the people inside had descended. ”Jump in.”
She essayed to do so, but was rudely thrust aside by a young man who had paused on the roof to light a cigarette. Philip sprang onto the step and b.u.t.ted the young gentleman in the stomach with his parcel, causing the other to sit down heavily on the stairs. The boy caught the woman's arm with his disengaged hand and pulled her up. He dived in after her.