Dusty Diamonds Cut and Polished: A Tale of City Arab Life and Adventure

“Bless me, how did you lose your child?” asked Sir Richard, in some surprise.

“Oh! sir, that often happens to us poor folk. We’re used to it,” said Mrs Frog, in a half bantering half bitter tone.

Sir Richard suddenly called to mind the fact—which had not before impressed him, though he had read and commented on it—that 11,835 children under ten years of age had been lost that year, (and it was no exceptional year, as police reports will show), in the streets of London, and that 23 of these children were never found.

He now beheld, as he imagined, one of the losers of the lost ones, and felt stricken.

“Well now,” said Giles to Mrs Frog, “let’s hear how you get along. What does your husband do?”

“He mostly does nothin’ but drink. Sometimes he sells little birds; sometimes he sells penny watches or boot-laces in Cheapside, an’ turns in a little that way, but it all goes to the grog-shop; none of it comes here. Then he has a mill now an’ again—”

“A mill?” said Sir Richard,—“is it a snuff or flour—”

“He’s a professional pugilist,” explained Giles.

“An’ he’s employed at a music-hall,” continued Mrs Frog, “to call out the songs an’ keep order. An’ Bobby always used to pick a few coppers by runnin’ messages, sellin’ matches, and odd jobs. But he’s knocked over now.”

“And yourself. How do you add to the general fund?” asked Sir Richard, becoming interested in the household management of Poverty.

“Well, I char a bit an’ wash a bit, sir, when I’m well enough—which ain’t often. An’ sometimes I lights the Jews’ fires for ’em, an’ clean up their ’earths on Saturdays—w’ich is their Sundays, sir. But Hetty works like a horse. It’s she as keeps us from the work’us, sir. She’s got employment at a slop shop, and by workin’ ’ard all day manages to make about one shillin’ a week.”

“I beg your pardon—how much?”

“One shillin’, sir.”

“Ah, you mean one shilling a day, I suppose.”

“No, sir, I mean one shillin’ a week. Mr Scott there knows that I’m tellin’ what’s true.”

Giles nodded, and Sir Richard said, “ha–a–hem,” having nothing more lucid to remark on such an amazing financial problem as was here set before him.

“But,” continued Mrs Frog, “poor Hetty has had a sad disappointment this week—”

“Oh! mother,” interrupted Hetty, “don’t trouble the gentleman with that. Perhaps he wouldn’t understand it, for of course he hasn’t heard about all the outs and ins of slop-work.”

“Pardon me, my good girl,” said Sir Richard, “I have not, as you truly remark, studied the details of slop-work minutely, but my mind is not unaccustomed to financial matters. Pray let me hear about this—”

A savage growling, something between a mastiff and a man, outside the door, here interrupted the visitor, and a hand was heard fumbling about the latch. As the hand seemed to lack skill to open the door the foot considerately took the duty in hand and burst it open, whereupon the huge frame of Ned Frog stumbled into the room and fell prostrate at the feet of Sir Richard, who rose hastily and stepped back.

The pugilist sprang up, doubled his ever ready fists, and, glaring at the knight, asked savagely:

“Who the—”

He was checked in the utterance of a ferocious oath, for at that moment he encountered the grave eye of Number 666.

Relaxing his fists he thrust them into his coat-pockets, and, with a subdued air, staggered out of the house.

“My ’usband, sir,” said Mrs Frog, in answer to her visitor’s inquiring glance.

“Oh! is that his usual mode of returning home?”

“No, sir,” answered Bobby from his corner, for he was beginning to be amused by the succession of surprises which Wealth was receiving, “’e don’t always come in so. Sometimes ’e sends ’is ’ead first an’ the feet come afterwards. In any case the furniture’s apt to suffer, not to mention the in’abitants, but you’ve saved us to-night, sir, or, raither, Mr Scott ’as saved both us an’ you.”

Poor little Di, who had been terribly frightened, clung closer to her father’s arm on hearing this.

“Perhaps,” said Sir Richard, “it would be as well that we should go, in case Mr Frog should return.”

He was about to say good-bye when Di checked him, and, despite her fears, urged a short delay.

“We haven’t heard, you know, about the slops yet. Do stop just one minute, dear papa. I wonder if it’s like the beef-tea nurse makes for me when I’m ill.”

“It’s not that kind of slops, darling, but ready-made clothing to which reference is made. But you are right. Let us hear about it, Miss Hetty.”

The idea of “Miss” being applied to Hetty, and slops compared to beef-tea proved almost too much for the broken-legged boy in the corner, but he put strong constraint on himself and listened.

“Indeed, sir, I do not complain,” said Hetty, quite distressed at being thus forcibly dragged into notice. “I am thankful for what has been sent—indeed I am—only it was a great disappointment, particularly at this time, when we so much needed all we could make amongst us.”

She stopped and had difficulty in restraining tears. “Go on, Hetty,” said her mother, “and don’t be afraid. Bless you, he’s not goin’ to report what you say.”

“I know that, mother. Well, sir, this was the way on it. They sometimes—”

“Excuse me—who are ‘they’?”

“I beg pardon, sir, I—I’d rather not tell.”

“Very well. I respect your feelings, my girl. Some slop-making firm, I suppose. Go on.”

“Yes, sir. Well—they sometimes gives me extra work to do at home. It do come pretty hard on me after goin’ through the regular day’s work, from early mornin’ till night, but then, you see, it brings in a little more money—and, I’m strong, thank God.”

Sir Richard looked at Hetty’s thin and colourless though pretty face, and thought it possible that she might be stronger with advantage.

“Of late,” continued the girl, “I’ve bin havin’ extra work in this way, and last week I got twelve children’s ulsters to make up. This job when finished would bring me six and sixpence.”

“How much?”

“Six and sixpence, sir.”

“For the whole twelve?” asked Sir Richard.

“Yes, sir—that was sixpence halfpenny for makin’ up each ulster. It’s not much, sir.”

“No,” murmured Wealth in an absent manner; “sixpence halfpenny is not much.”

“But when I took them back,” continued Hetty—and here the tears became again obstreperous and difficult to restrain—“the master said he’d forgot to tell me that this order was for the colonies, that he had taken it at a very low price, and that he could only give me three shillin’s for the job. Of—of course three shillin’s is better the nothin’, but after workin’ hard for such a long long time an’ expectin’ six, it was—”

Here the tears refused to be pent up any longer, and the poor girl quietly bending forward hid her face in her hand.

“Come, I think we will go now,” said Sir Richard, rising hastily. “Good-night, Mrs Frog, I shall probably see you again—at least—you shall hear from me. Now, Di—say good-night to your boy.”