London's Heart: A Novel

by B. L. Farjeon

"Never mind that--it's my trouble--and mustn't be spoken of. Let's talk of Dick Hart."

"You were about," said Old Wheels gently, "to tell me some story connected with him."

"He was as good a fellow--as ever drawed breath--and had been in the Company's service--ever so many years. There was nothing agin him. He did his work--and drawed his screw. Little enough! He got overworked--often--as a good many of us gets--a-many times too often--once too often for poor Dick--as I'm going to tell you, short. It must ha' been--eight months ago--full--when Dick Hart--worked off his legs--with long hours--and little rest--had a accident. He took a oath afterwards--that he was that dead-beat--before the accident--that he felt fit to drop down dead with fatigue. He couldn't keep--his eyes open--as I can't sometimes--and when the accident--takes place--he goes almost mad. But that doesn't alter it. The accident's done--and Dick Hart's made accountable. He's took up--and tried--and gets six months. If what he did--had ha' been his fault--he ought to have been--hung--but they didn't seem--quite to know--whether he was to blame--or whether--he wasn't--so they give him six months--to make things even, I suppose. While Dick's in prison--his wife's confined--with her second--and how they lived--while he's away from 'em--God knows! Some of us gives a little--now and then. I give twice--but what Dick's wife got--in that way was--next to nothing--as much as we--could afford. Dick Hart--comes out of prison--a little while ago--and tries to get work--and can't. He gets a odd job--now and then--by telling lies about himself--and his old woman--gets a little charing--but they've not been able--to keep the wolf--from the door. It's got right in--and they are--pretty-nigh starving--him and the old woman--and the kids."

Jim Podmore's drowsiness coming upon him powerfully here, he had as much as he could do to keep himself awake. He indulged himself with a few drowsy nods, and then proceeded as though there had been no interval of silence.

"Well, we had a talk about him--to-day, me and my mates. We made up--a little money--about six shillings--and sent it to his old woman. But we can't go on--doing this--and one of the men said--that if it comes to the officers' ears--or the directors'--that we'd been making up money--for a man as has been discharged--and's been in prison--and's cost the Company a lot o' money in damages--(for they had to pay two men--who was able--to afford a lawyer; there was others--as was poor--who couldn't afford a lawyer, consequently--they got nothing)--that if it come--to the directors' ears--we should likely--get into trouble ourselves."

Having come to the end of Dick Hart's story, Jim Podmore dozed off again, and would have fallen into deep sleep but for Old Wheels nudging him briskly.

"Well?" asked the old man.

"Ah, yes," said Jim; "I was almost forgetting. What I want to know is--is Dick Hart responsible--for what he's done? Is it right--that a respectable man--a hardworking man--a honest man--should be compelled--to work until he's lost--all control over himself--till he's ready to drop--as I've told you before--and as I've been ready to myself--and that then--when a accident happens--which wouldn't have happened--if he'd been fresh--or if a fresh man had been--in his place is it right, I want to know," and Jim Podmore raised his arm slowly and lowered it, and raised it again and lowered it again, as if it were a piston, "that that man--should be put--in prison--should be disgraced--should lose his honest name--shouldn't be able to get work--for his old woman--and the young uns--and that they should be almost starving--as Dick Hart's people's doing now?"

Fortunately for Old Wheels, who would have found these questions very difficult to answer, Jim Podmore was too tired and too sleepy to wait for a reply.

"If I don't go upstairs--immediate," he said, rising slowly to his feet, "you'll have--to carry me. So I'll wish you--good-night, Mr. Wheels, and thank you."