RE-ENTER THE DUMPLING.
"He's only starving!" the woman had said. But as I stooped to lift the frail little figure from the ground, as I hurried with it across the street and into the baker's shop, there to wet the white lips with a restorative—a prayer that was like the spurting of blood from a wound, a prayer that shot a pang of actual physical pain to my heart—so poignant, so terrible was my remorse—surged up unuttered but not unheard, within me.
"Lord Christ, lover of little children, spare and heal this Thy stricken little child. Forgive and pardon such as I, who, living our selfish, easeful lives, have closed our ears and shut our eyes to the suffering and the misery around us. Help us to repent. Lash us, if need be, with Thy whip of pain, burn us, if it seem good to Thee, with the scorching of fire, but awaken us, arouse us, thaw this cruel, frozen heart within us, that we be forgetful of the sufferings of these our fellow-creatures no more. Amen."
And the prayer was heard—as every prayer that is uttered in earnest is heard—on high. The restorative did its work. The cup of warm milk, which—perhaps with a thought of Him who said, "And whosoever shall give to drink one of these little ones a cup of cold water only ... shall in no wise lose his reward"—was held to his lips by the good woman, put new life into him; and before long Timmy and I were able to gather together our belongings, and to return to No. 18, Cripps Court.
There, his mother brewing the tea, and the rest of the household sitting around discussing the contents of my basket, I made the happiest meal of my life. The Wright family were equally happy, and listened to the continuation of my story of the performing dog with uproarious laughter.
The mere fact that one, not in their own station of life, could, by coming among them as one of themselves—asking no questions, laying down no laws, but by talking to the children, taking the little ones upon his knee, to show his watch or the dog's head on his walking-stick—so please and delight them, was to me tragic.
The good fellowship, the realisation of the common bond of human sympathy which—whether they wear corduroy or broadcloth, silk hats or coster caps, satin gown or cotton frock—should bind men and women together, seemed to cheer them in spirit as much, if not more, than their bodies had been cheered by the food.
After a time Mrs. Wright departed, taking the children with her, to execute some shopping commissions for me, and then Wright and I settled down for a chat.
It was not long before I learned his reason for fearing, when I had first entered, that I was what he had called "another of the —— spies."
"It's this way, sir," he said. "Two ladies called afore you come. The missis was out, or she wouldn't have let 'em in, but they came in without bein' asked, and sat down—at least, one on 'em did—on this box, and the other, she walked all around the place, sniffing like to herself, and talking aloud about what she called the 'dirt.'