For John's Sake Part 10

"Now, be sure and behave yourselves. Don't get wild, or touch them pretty flowers, or that man in the b.u.t.tons there'll be down on us in a jiffy, and turn us out quicker than we comed in," said Mattie, when they had rested and recovered themselves after their weary trudge. The afternoon waned at last, and the children turned their steps homeward.

"I wonder whether mammie's comed home; we'll catch it if she has," said Melie apprehensively.

"Don't you be a bothering of your head about that," replied Mattie sharply, turning upon the child, who was lagging behind with her little sister. "Mammie's safe enough, I'll be bound, somewheres till midnight, and she'll be too dead drunk when she comes in to do anything but tumble into a corner like a pig; that's a mercy!"

Melie looked cheered at the information, and trudged on bravely. Just as they were about to enter their dingy court, Bob caught sight of a man who was walking slowly down the road with a placard in front of him and another behind.

"Mattie, just look at that funny man," he exclaimed.

"Oh, haven't you ever seen the likes of him afore? Wait a minute,--and I'll see what it says on them boards," and Mattie read,--as what girl of her tender years, however dest.i.tute and forlorn, in this age of educational advantages could not?--"A Band of Hope Meeting will be held at the ---- Road Board Schools this evening, at half-past six. All children will be welcome."

"Why, that's my school," said Mattie; "I declare I should like to go, though what on earth a Band of Hope Meeting is, goodness knows, for I don't."

"Don't leave us again, Mattie," urged Melie; "we'll be so lonesome by oursel's."

"Let's see," said Mattie thoughtfully; "it says, 'all children will be welcome.' I've a good mind to take the lot of you; and if they won't let us in with baby, why, we can come back again, I s'pose."

"What a heap of treats we are having, Mattie! You're a real good 'un!"

cried Bob, cutting a somersault in view of the unusual and delightful combination of events.

"You, Bob," called Mattie, somewhat ungraciously it might seem, "stop that, and help Melie along with Fan."

Tea, which had consisted of the remains from dinner, being over, a neighbouring church clock chimed the hour, and Mattie prepared for the evening entertainment. Baby was sleeping, and resented Mattie's attempts to remove the worst of the grime from his face; but she persevered, for she felt that the credit of the family was entirely in her hands, and she was not going to risk losing it for the sake of sundry struggles and tears from its youngest member. They were all ready at last, and Mattie surveyed the effect of her handiwork with satisfaction.

"Now, you all jest keep behind me, and don't be grinning, or up to any of your larks, or they won't let you in," said Mattie, as they neared the building.

She presented herself before the door with the baby asleep in her arms, the other children tremblingly bringing up the rear. A gentleman with a kindly face was standing near the entrance.

"Do you think you can manage your baby, my little woman?" he asked, stooping to Mattie.

"Bless you, yes, sir. He's better with me than his own mammie, and'll sleep like a top all the time; and," she added, glancing behind, "these 'ere little uns belong to me too, and if you'll let us all in, I'll see as they behave theirselves."

"I'm very glad to see you all, my dears, come in;" and, with his heart aching at the revelation of the misery which was written in unmistakable characters on the faces of these young children, the gentleman led them to prominent places near the platform.

Oh, the rich enjoyment of the next hour! The wonderful music, the fine singing, and the simple words from the two or three gentlemen who were there, fell upon Mattie's ears with telling effect, and after the meeting was over, she exchanged a few hurried words with Melie and Bob, and then they all went forward to the table in front of the platform.

"Please, sir," said Mattie to the secretary who sat there, "you said as any as wanted to sign against the drink was to come to you after you'd finished talking; and me, and Melie, and Bob here wants to sign, only they can't write yet."

"We'll manage that, my dear; but have you thought about this signing and what it means?"

"Oh, yes, sir; it means as we're never to put our lips to mammie's drops when we fetch 'em from the public, and never to touch the drink at all."

"Yes, that's quite right," said the secretary, with a half smile. "I see you know all about it, and will doubtless keep your own pledge; but what about these little ones? Will they understand and remember that they mustn't touch the drink when once they've signed against it?"

"Don't you be a-troubling of yourself about them, sir; they're little, but they're sharp enough, and I'll look after 'em," replied the elder sister.

"I suppose you're mother, then?" said the secretary, glancing compa.s.sionately down at the sleeping child in Mattie's arms.

"Pretty nigh," answered Mattie, concisely. "Tell me where I've to put my name; and, Melie, you sit down and hold the baby a minute."

The name was carefully written, and the other children made crosses in due form, each receiving a bright pledge-card, which they were told to hang up in their room; then, after receiving an invitation to attend another meeting of the same kind the following week, they left the place.

"Well, we've done something now," said Mattie, as they emerged into the street. "I'll tell you what, if we stick to it, as in course we shall, we'll have a jolly home one day, with no drinking and no beating; and, Bob, you'll be able to stuff away on the fat of the land yet."

"Prime!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bob, smacking his lips in gleeful antic.i.p.ation of the good time coming.

"We'll get Fan and baby to bed, and then we'll see about hanging our cards somewheres. They'll not fetch anything at the pop-shop, so mammie won't be carrying 'em off, that's one comfort."

The three cards were presently hung up, affording a strange contrast to the begrimed and broken walls; and then the wearied children crept into their corners, and, on the rags which alone separated them from the floor, they slept the sleep of innocence and childhood.

There was a staggering step on the broken stairs at midnight, and at the familiar sound Mattie woke, and drew her baby brother closer to her protecting arms. The door was pushed noisily open, and some one stumbled across the room, muttering:

"Where's them brats, I wonder?"

Mattie held her breath, and a moment later she heard a roll on the floor, and knew that her miserable mother would lie where she had fallen in drunken slumber until the morning. As for her father, he was seldom able to mount the stairs; but, if he came home at all, lay at the foot, until aroused in the morning by his landlady's shrill tones, and ordered to seek his own room. So Mattie composed herself to sleep again; as, under such happy circ.u.mstances, what drunkard's child might not?

She was awoke next morning by the baby's fretful wail, and, the others beginning to stir, she sat up and pointed with a warning finger to her still sleeping mother.

"If you wake her, you'll catch it, you know, so hold your noise now, and I'll see if I can't get something for you to eat," she hoa.r.s.ely whispered.

With stealthy movement she crept to her mother's side, and, finding her way to the pocket of her dress, she put her hand in and drew out a solitary penny. Holding it up, and nodding delightedly over her prize, she picked up the baby and disappeared down the stairs. When she returned there was a good-sized piece of steaming bread in her hand, and baby was already ravenously devouring his share.

"Eat it up, quick now, afore she wakes," whispered Mattie; and the children, nothing loth, soon left not a crumb to be seen.

"We don't often get such luck as that," chuckled Mattie, thinking of other times when the need had been as great, and not even a penny loaf wherewith to satisfy the cravings of her hungry charge had been forthcoming.

"Mammie's waking up," whispered Bob, shrinking back into his corner; and the little group in silence fixed their fascinated gaze upon the woman to whom they owed their being, as she yawned and stretched, and, finally, with a succession of groans, turned over, and faced her children.

Can it be the same? Are we not doing Susan Dixon a cruel injustice as we fancy that in yonder bloated face, with its bleared eyes and framework of dishevelled hair, we can discover a resemblance to the bright, happy wife, who, seven years before, had been so unsparing in her condemnation of those who, for the sake of indulging a degraded appet.i.te, wrecked their own prospects, and blasted the young life and future happiness of their helpless offspring? Ah, no! for she, who so proudly had boasted of her own strength, had also been overcome and laid low by the mighty tyrant.

Little by little, with many a struggle at first, and many a fair-sounding promise, did she turn from the beaten track she had marked out for herself, and in the security of which she had prided herself, until now the very desire for a better life seemed hopelessly crushed with every trace of womanly feeling. She looked about in a half-stupified fas.h.i.+on for a while, then raised herself on her elbow, still continuing to groan.

"What's the matter, mammie?" Mattie ventured to ask.

"My head's fit to burst, child; you must fetch me a drop or I shall just go crazy," replied Susan, in thick, husky tones.

"Where's the money, mammie?" tremblingly asked the child, well knowing that the last coin had been spent in their frugal breakfast.

Susan felt in her pocket, and, to Mattie's intense relief, withdrew her hand, simply saying: "Drat it, every penny gone again! Just like my luck!"

Her glance went round the room, but there was absolutely nothing within those four walls which would fetch the price of a morning dram.

Presently her eyes rested upon those three bright patches hanging against the discoloured wall, with a curious expression of wonder.

"What's them?" she asked at length.

"They're pretty cards as was given us by a gent yesterday, and he said we was to hang 'em up," answered Mattie, wondering what the effect of her reply would be, and devoutly hoping that, whatever untimely fate awaited the cards, she and the little ones might escape with no more than their usual share of rough and ready treatment.

"Let's look, can't you?" were the next impatient words; and Mattie took down the three pledges, and, handing them to her mother, stood patiently by, awaiting the result of the prolonged investigation. She was never more surprised than when it came. Tossing the cards aside, Susan threw her hands over her face, and rocked herself backwards and forwards in an agony of shame and remorse, while floods of tears poured through her fingers.