Forgotten Tales of Long Ago

by E. V. Lucas

'Well, my dear, I hope that you will be able to do for them, and that they will be kind to you, and you must trust to Providence for the discovery of your friends.'

I then drew my father's picture from my bosom, and asked her if she would fasten it into my stays in such a way that I could wear it without its being seen.

'Yes, my dear,' said she, 'that I will, and you must mind how I do it, that, when you have a new pair of stays, you may be able to fasten it into them in the same manner.'

My stays were then taken off, and the portrait fastened inside of them; a piece of flannel was then sewed over it, which, being left loose at one corner, I could, when I had them off, raise it up, and take a view of the dear likeness. The first sixpence that Mr. Sanders gave me I had fastened in also, for I was determined never to part with it. This being done I produced the sixpence he had given me that morning, and the penny given me by the overseer, and begged the nurse to accept of them.

'No, my dear,' said she, 'I will not take them from you; keep them yourself, you do not know what you may want when you are in London. You will not then have anybody to give you a halfpenny should you need it.'

'I will not keep it,' replied I. 'Mr. Sanders told me to spend it, and if you will not take it I shall leave it upon the table.'

'Well,' said she, 'if it must be spent, I will go and lay it out in tea and sugar, and give you all a treat, for I suppose you have not tasted any tea since you have been with Mrs. Dawson.'

'No,' said I, 'not a single drop. How glad I am that you have thought of letting us have tea.'

My young readers who, perhaps, have tea every day, cannot imagine what a luxury a little of it is to a poor workhouse child, who never tastes it but when she is allowed to go out and see her friends. Children in workhouses have bread and cheese and small-beer about seven o'clock, which serves them for tea and supper, and I, as I had no friends to go and see, had not once tasted tea since I left my nurse's, who was a good-natured woman, and always gave us tea on Sunday evenings—weak, indeed, but we thought it delicious; on other evenings we had milk-and-water and bread-and-butter.

My nurse soon came back with her purchase. The large kettle was set on the fire, the great brown loaf was brought out, and nurse began cutting slices of bread-and-butter for us.