Liza of Lambeth Part 3

'You're not walkin' aht with anybody else, are you, Liza?' he asked quickly.

'Na, not that.'

'Well, why won't yer, Liza? Oh Liza, I do love yer, I've never loved anybody as I love you!'

'Oh, I can't, Tom!'

'There ain't no one else?'

'Na.'

'Then why not?'

'I'm very sorry, Tom, but I don't love yer so as ter marry yer.'

'Oh, Liza!'

She could not see the look upon his face, but she heard the agony in his voice; and, moved with sudden pity, she bent out, threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him on both cheeks.

'Never mind old chap!' she said. 'I'm not worth troublin' abaht.'

And quickly drawing back, she slammed the window to, and moved into the further part of the room.

3

The following day was Sunday. Liza when she was dressing herself in the morning, felt the hardness of fate in the impossibility of eating one's cake and having it; she wished she had reserved her new dress, and had still before her the sensation of a first appearance in it.

With a sigh she put on her ordinary everyday working dress, and proceeded to get the breakfast ready, for her mother had been out late the previous night, celebrating the new arrivals in the street, and had the 'rheumatics' this morning.

'Oo, my 'ead!' she was saying, as she pressed her hands on each side of her forehead. 'I've got the neuralgy again, wot shall I do? I dunno 'ow it is, but it always comes on Sunday mornings. Oo, an' my rheumatics, they give me sich a doin' in the night!'

'You'd better go to the 'orspital mother.'

'Not I!' answered the worthy lady, with great decision. 'You 'as a dozen young chaps messin' you abaht, and lookin' at yer, and then they tells yer ter leave off beer and spirrits. Well, wot I says, I says I can't do withaht my gla.s.s of beer.' She thumped her pillow to emphasize the statement.

'Wot with the work I 'ave ter do, lookin' after you and the cookin'

and gettin' everythin' ready and doin' all the 'ouse-work, and goin'

aht charring besides--well, I says, if I don't 'ave a drop of beer, I says, ter pull me together, I should be under the turf in no time.'

She munched her bread-and-b.u.t.ter and drank her tea.

'When you've done breakfast, Liza,' she said, 'you can give the grate a cleanin', an' my boots'd do with a bit of polis.h.i.+n'. Mrs. Tike, in the next 'ouse, 'll give yer some blackin'.'

She remained silent for a bit, then said:

'I don't think I shall get up ter-day. Liza. My rheumatics is bad. You can put the room straight and cook the dinner.'

'Arright, mother, you stay where you are, an' I'll do everythin' for yer.'

'Well, it's only wot yer ought to do, considerin' all the trouble you've been ter me when you was young, and considerin' thet when you was born the doctor thought I never should get through it. Wot 'ave you done with your week's money, Liza?'

'Oh, I've put it awy,' answered Liza quietly.

'Where?' asked her mother.

'Where it'll be safe.'

'Where's that?'

Liza was driven into a corner.

'Why d'you want ter know?' she asked.

'Why shouldn't I know; d'you think I want ter steal it from yer?'

'Na, not thet.'

'Well, why won't you tell me?'

'Oh, a thing's sifer when only one person knows where it is.'

This was a very discreet remark, but it set Mrs. Kemp in a whirlwind of pa.s.sion. She raised herself and sat up in the bed, flouris.h.i.+ng her clenched fist at her daughter.

'I know wot yer mean, you ---- you!' Her language was emphatic, her epithets picturesque, but too forcible for reproduction. 'You think I'd steal it,' she went on. 'I know yer! D'yer think I'd go an' tike yer dirty money?'

'Well, mother,' said Liza, 'when I've told yer before, the money's perspired like.'

'Wot d'yer mean?'

'It got less.'

'Well, I can't 'elp thet, can I? Anyone can come in 'ere and tike the money.'

'If it's 'idden awy, they can't, can they, mother?' said Liza.

Mrs. Kemp shook her fist.

'You dirty s.l.u.t, you,' she said, 'yer think I tike yer money! Why, you ought ter give it me every week instead of savin' it up and spendin'

it on all sorts of muck, while I 'ave ter grind my very bones down to keep yer.'

'Yer know, mother, if I didn't 'ave a little bit saved up, we should be rather short when you're dahn in yer luck.'

Mrs. Kemp's money always ran out on Tuesday, and Liza had to keep things going till the following Sat.u.r.day.

'Oh, don't talk ter me!' proceeded Mrs. Kemp. 'When I was a girl I give all my money ter my mother. She never 'ad ter ask me for nothin'. On Sat.u.r.day when I come 'ome with my wiges, I give it 'er every farthin'.

That's wot a daughter ought ter do. I can say this for myself, I be'aved by my mother like a gal should. None of your prodigal sons for me! She didn't 'ave ter ask me for three 'apence ter get a drop of beer.'