Part 4 (1/2)

He asked me several questions; then I told him that mother had been again out b.u.m-boating.

”Bad--very bad. I told her not to go. A relapse is a serious matter,”

he remarked, panting and puffing between his sentences. ”However, we must try what can be done.”

Mary met us at the door.

”Mother has been breathing very hard since you went, Peter,” she said, ”but she is quite quiet now.”

The doctor's face looked very serious when he heard this. He hurried into the room.

”I thought so,” I heard him remark to Nancy. ”I could have done nothing if you had sent for me hours ago. The woman is dead.”

”Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What shall I do?” cried Nancy, sobbing bitterly.

”The sooner you let any friends the children may have know what has happened the better, and then send for the undertaker,” answered Mr Jones. ”The boy is sharp--he'll run your errands. I can do no more than certify the cause of death.”

He hurried away without bestowing a look at Mary and me, as we stood holding each other's hands, unable as yet to realise the fact that we were orphans. He had so many poor patients that he could not afford, I suppose, to exercise his compa.s.sionate feelings. Even when Nancy afterwards took us in to see mother's body, I would scarcely believe that she herself had been taken from us.

I will not stop to speak of Mary's and my grief.

At last Nancy, her eyes red with crying, sat down, with her hands pressed against her head, to consider what was to be done.

”Why, I ought to have sent for him at once!” she suddenly exclaimed.

”Peter, run and find Tom Swatridge, and tell him that poor missus has gone.”

I needed no second bidding, and, thankful to have something to do, I started away.

On reaching the Hard, where I expected to find old Tom, I heard from some of the watermen that he had gone off with a fare to Gosport, so I had to wait for his return. Many of the men standing about asked me after mother, and seemed very sorry to hear of her death. I saw them talking earnestly together while I waited for Tom. Others joined them, and then went away, so that the news soon spread about our part of the town. I had to wait a long time, till old Tom came back with several persons in his boat. He pocketed their fares, touching his hat to each before he took any notice of me.

”What cheer, Peter? How's the missus?” he asked, stepping on sh.o.r.e and dropping the kedge to make fast his boat. ”I feared she wouldn't be up to b.u.m-boating to-day.”

”Mother's dead,” I answered.

”Dead! The missus dead!” he exclaimed, clapping his hand to his brow, and looking fixedly at me. ”The Lord have mercy on us!”

”Nancy wants you, Tom,” I said.

”I'm coming, Peter, I'm coming. I said I'd be a father to you and Mary, and I will, please G.o.d,” he replied, recovering himself.

He took my hand, and stumped away towards our house.

”d.i.c.k Porter, look after my boat, will ye, till I comes back?” he said to one of the men on the Hard as we hurried by.

”Ay, ay,” was the cheerful answer--for d.i.c.k knew where old Tom was going.

Not a word did the old man speak all the way. When we got to the house, what was my astonishment to find a number of people in the sitting-room, one of whom, with note-book in hand, was making an inventory of the furniture! Mary was sitting in a corner crying, and Nancy was looking as if she had a mind to try and turn them all out. As soon as Mary saw me she jumped up and took my hand.

”What's all this about?” exclaimed old Tom, in an indignant tone. ”You might have stopped, whatever right you may have here, till the dead woman was carried to her grave, I'm thinking.”

”And others had carried off the goods,” answered the man with the note-book. ”We are only acting according to law. Mrs Trawl has run into debt on all sides, and when the goods are sold there won't be five s.h.i.+llings in the pound to pay them, that I can see, so her children must take the consequences. There's the workhouse for them.”