From Workhouse to Westminster Part 18

"Can you say the Lord's Prayer?"

"No; we wasn't taught it at the school wot I used to go to."

"But you didn't go to school."

"The boy wot did go told me."

"Well, we'll see to it that you do go to school now."

Another new-comer excused himself more ingeniously:--"Me and my mate we found a donkey and barrer at Covent Garden. We saw a man's name on the barrer, and fought if we went off wif the donkey we would git a s.h.i.+lling the next day for taking it back to him. But a copper stopped us as we was leading the donkey over Waterloo Bridge. So we hadn't a chance to take it back, as we was going to."

"Very well, you must stay with us until you learn that donkeys in barrows are not necessarily lost."

Crooks believed in giving the boys plenty of play and plenty of work.

Nearly all their offences he believed to be due to excess of vitality.

They had never had a chance of working it off in a proper way before.

Besides, many of the lads needed mothering. It was always his regret that he could not persuade his colleagues on the Committee to adopt a system he found in vogue in the Moss Hill industrial school in Glasgow.

When visiting that inst.i.tution he was agreeably surprised to find about a dozen "mothers" on the staff. If a lad tore his coat or pulled off a b.u.t.ton, he knew which particular "mother" to run to in order to be patched up.

"I have always said, and shall always continue to say," he states, "that reformatory schools ought to be made a State charge entirely. If there is any part of the community that can be called a national debt, it is this cla.s.s of poor, misguided lads who, if they were properly cared for, would soon become a valuable national a.s.set."

CHAPTER XVIII

PROUD OF THE POOR

The Handy Man of Poplar--Peacemaker among his Neighbours--Piloting the Author of "In His Steps" through the Slums--Difference between a Street Arab and a Prince--Object Lesson for a Professor of Political Economy--How the Poor help the Poor.

During these years the saying grew up among his neighbours that nothing happens in Poplar without someone running to Will Crooks about it. His little house at 28, Northumberland Street, to the north of East India Dock Road, was the gathering ground of all kinds of deputations and of troubled individuals seeking advice on every subject under the sun. He was a court of appeal in family troubles as well as on public questions.

A small girl came to the door one night with the announcement:

"If you please, father's took to drink again, and mother says will Mr.

Crooks come round and give him a good hiding?"

Appeals like that of an old labourer who could neither read nor write became common. The old man stood sobbing on the step without a word when Crooks's youngest daughter opened the door. Instinct told her it was her father that was wanted, and she called him.

"Well, old Charley, what's the matter now?" when Crooks recognised his caller.

"She's turned me out again," came the words between sobs. "If you would on'y go and speak to her, Mr. Crooks, and put in a word for me! She ain't half a bad wife, you know. It's on'y her temper and me as don't agree."

He invited the aggrieved husband inside, going off himself alone, to return in half an hour with the news that the road was now clear.

About a month later in the main road he was hailed from over the way.

The old labourer came hobbling towards him.

"Ah, Mr. Crooks, I don't know what yer said to my ole woman that night, but she's bin a perfect angel since."

What Crooks had said was simple enough. On reaching the court he found the good wife gossiping.

"Here's Mr. Crooks!" cried the little company of women as he approached.

He spoke no word, but with a mysterious air beckoned the aggressive wife aside.

"Heard the news about your old man?" he asked with a long face.

a.s.suming the worst, she immediately began to weep into her ap.r.o.n.

"It's my fault, Mr. Crooks," she whimpered. "He often threatened to drown hisself, but I never thought he'd go and do it!"

And then again, amid broken sobs:--"I've al'ays bin a good wife to him, Mr. Crooks."

"Yes, I know you have; and he knows it, too. He's often told me what a splendid wife you are. But you shouldn't cheek him so. You take my advice and coax him a little; coax him, and then you'll find you can do what you like with him afterwards. Why, bless you, if it hadn't been for some of us he might have drowned himself to-night. Now you just give him a good supper, like a sensible woman, when we send him home, and begin coaxing him from this very night. And, mind, not a word about this to anyone, for fear you excite him again."

When again he met the old labourer it was evident the good relations were growing.

"Give her a treat last Sat.u.r.day afternoon, Mr. Crooks--a fair knock-out.

Took her for a 'bus ride to Ludgit Circis, and showed her the Thames Embankmint. Never seen anyfink so fine in all her life. Nearly made her faint. When she got home she dropped into a chair and said, 'I feel I could die now, Charlie, after that.'"

"And you?"

"I said, 'If you talk like that I'll go for Mr. Crooks again.' That fetched her round, 'pon me honour."

The good people of Poplar expect Crooks to meet all their needs. It was not very inspiring to be knocked up in the middle of the night and find a carman groaning at the door.

"Oh, Will, I'm that bad with the spasms!"

"Why don't you go to the doctor?"

"I've bin to him and he ain't done me no good. I thought as how if you'd come along with me he'd be sure to give me the right stuff."

Later in the same week the man's wife arrived breathless in the early morning. "Would Mr. Crooks come at once?"

"What's happened now?"

"d.i.c.k took a drop too much at the 's.h.i.+p' last night, and when he come in, me having gone to bed, he mistook the paraffin oil bottle for his medicine. Two whole spoonfuls he took, Mr. Crooks, and we've only found it out this morning. He says he must see you now afore he dies."

Curious ideas are held as to what Crooks's duties are. One irate citizen declared to his mates that he was done with Will Crooks for ever. He was appealed to for the reason.

"Why," said he, "there's our sink bin stopped up nigh on three weeks, and he ain't bin round yet!"

All who labour and are poor in Poplar look upon Crooks as the unfailing friend. The coal-man crying coals in the street all in vain, one morning hails him in pa.s.sing:--

"Wot's wrong with people this morning, Mr. Crooks? One would think I was selling tombstones!"

Another day it is the chimney-sweep who stops him.