Part 4 (1/2)
Perhaps he said ”only” to make us understand that they were just alike in the matter of age, but that there the likeness ended.
Bob, the merry and talkative, was the one who led Tom, the quiet and silent. Bob's twinkling, puppy-like eyes--which peeped at you through a tangled fringe of brown hair--were the exact contrast to Tom's shy blue eyes, shaded by long, fair, girlish lashes. And Bob's jolly little round figure seemed to say, ”Anything, be it meagre soup or even dry bread, fattens _me_;” while Tom's thin little limbs gave one a thought of unconscious cravings for appetising food.
The room where they were watching for father was a third floor front in Pleasant Court, not far from Waterloo Junction. Like many such ”living-rooms,” it can be best described by telling you that everything in it which should be large was small, and the other way about.
For instance, the fireplace was small and the crack under the door very large. The cupboard was very roomy, but the things kept in it very much too small and scarce. The bed was wide, but the blanket and counterpane sadly narrow.
Was there nothing that was as big as it should be?
Yes, indeed! In spite of these unsatisfactory surroundings, there was as large-hearted a love to be found in the small family which these four walls sheltered from the cold outside world, as any one could wish to see.
”I don't believe father's _never_ coming;” and Bob sighed again.
By this time the herring had found a cindery resting-place on a plate before the fire, and the twins were sitting side by side, with their bare toes on the fender and their eyes fixed upon the door, watching eagerly, like two little terriers.
But the sigh was answered by a distant sound, the plod--plod--plodding of weary feet up the two flights of uncarpeted stairs.
Then there was a grand commotion! The cus.h.i.+onless armchair was dragged nearer the fire; the old slippers dropped sole uppermost into the fender. And then Bob and Tom clung with a vice-like embrace each to an arm of the tall, gaunt, kindly eyed man who had opened the door.
”Father, father! the 'erring's done just lubly. I _am_ glad you're come at last!” This from Bob.
The father's hard, rough hand rested upon his tangled crop, but his eyes were looking into Tom's upturned face.
”And Tom, eh?” he asked.
”Jolly glad,” answered the child readily.
Then the three sat down to their evening meal.
Would you like to know what it consisted of?
Tea, of a watery description, but _hot_ (Bob took care of that) and _sweet_--at least, father's cup, owing to Tom's kindly attentions with a grimy thumb and finger. The herring. This, of course, was the chief dish. Several t.i.t-bits, trembling upon father's fork, find their way into the ”twinses'” mouths.
Lastly, bread and dripping.
Gull had tried to teach his motherless lads ”to do as mother used.” So there followed a systematic cleaning and arranging of the small supply of crockery.
Tom was the first to find a seat upon father's knee as he sat by the fire; but Bob soon climbed opposite to him, and together they looked with expectant eyes into father's face.
And father rubbed his head ruefully as he said, ”Eh! I've got to tell the little lads summat to-night, have I? But there's nothing new been done, as far as I knows. It's the old dull story, bairnies. The fewest tips when the weather's the bitterest.”
Gull was an outside porter at Waterloo Junction; and a slight lameness, caused by rheumatism, often cost him dearly. If his step could have been quicker, it would many times have taken him in the front of the younger porters, who darted forward and seemed to get all the jobs. The sixpences came very slowly into his pocket.
To-night he felt more than usually _down_, as he expressed it; and when he felt Tom's little bare toes slipping for warmth under his strong brown hand, tears crept into his eyes, and had to be rubbed away with the back of his sleeve.
Bob was very quick to notice this.
”I say,” he cried, ”you've been and gone and got something in your eye!”
”s.m.u.ts,” suggested Tom.