"Like a sensible child, as she was, Phoebe said she would, and nodding a half reluctant and doubting farewell to the old man, she saw him set off at his best pace on his way home to fetch her the fellow kitchen to myself. And not for any sum of money would old Joe have broken any promise he had made to a child. When he got back to his dark, cold room, he found his one friendly visitor waiting for him, but only begged her to sit down and wait for him a little while so that he could run back to the child with the toy. He was more than rewarded, even in very profitable ways, for not only did the little girl, who had been eagerly watching for him on the steps, rush out clapping her hands for the promised Kitchen, but the good-natured butcher, seeing how the old man must have hurried to keep his word to the little one, gave him a nice bit of steak at the same time with the price of the toy, telling him he was afraid he would miss his dinner, and so, perhaps, that would make up.
"'Thank ye, kindly,' replied the old man, 'but you see I ain't no dinner to lose to speak of, cos I always has a crust of bread and cheese, leastways, unless any kind soul gives me a old bone or some broken wittles!'
"'Well, you can have a cosy broil to-day,' laughed the butcher; ''tis prime meat, and that I'll answer for!'
"Poor old Joe trotted off in high glee with his prize, buying a "happorth" of onions and a "pennorth of all sorts" to flavour his stew with. For old Joe, being a handy and sensible sort of fellow, had in course of time become quite a cook, with the poor scraps his scanty means furnished. Nor was he the only one to benefit by it, for many a tea-cupful of what was proudly called "broth" did Joe spare to one or two starving mothers hard by, for their ailing little ones. But old Joe had a visitor to-day, his long lost wife's blind sister, and so he was proud indeed to make a feast in her honour; and while his little scrap of meat was slowly simmering, with the odds and ends of garden-stuff he had bought, Joe made his visitor as comfortable as he could, and gave her his kitchens to "feel," as she could not see.
"'I'm getting quite a hand at making 'em, Liza,' said the old man, cheerily; 'I've got quite a sight of little customers, and I think I shall get on by degrees, you know, werry slow, to make some better-most kinds, and sell the bigger ones at fourpence a-piece! And then I can throw in a kitchen table into the bargain, you know, which will make 'em more completer.'
"Poor blind Liza admired to his heart's content, and felt us all over with her wonderfully sensitive fingers, which almost seemed to find out what sort of paper we were covered with, and she was not without her bit of proud satisfaction, too, for she had brought Joe a pretty little square basket, with a lid to it, which had been the work of her own poor, unguided fingers. She had been placed by a very charitable lady in a blind school, where she had learned basket-work, and she now was able to help her old mother by her work, which was disposed of for her at a shop established for that especial purpose in the Euston Road.
"Joe was mightily delighted with his basket, and said it was what he had been wanting all along to keep his coppers in on his tray of toys. And so, after a merry evening, Joe limped off to see the poor blind woman safe to her home, about three miles distant. This was old Joe's solitary holiday for many a month, for he had no friends and few acquaintances, except the poor women who came thankfully to him now and then for one of his savoury messes for their sick little ones, and they had no time to spare, for they were most of them poor hard-working drudges, who were very grateful for his help, and indeed often brought him their own poor scraps of food to cook for their little invalids, while they earned a few pence by washing, or hawking flowers, or fire papers. And the kind-hearted old man would stir and simmer the scanty scraps in his solitary saucepan, and take a world of care and pains with the "broth" to make it relishing for the poor sickly little babes. He would often put it into the cracked mug or pie-dish, and carry it himself to the forlorn sufferer, and stay and have a bit of merry chat. There was not a child in the neighbourhood who did not know and love Joe, and few indeed who had not received some small kindness from him. He was only a very poor and infirm old man, and had but little in his power to give or do, but what he could was all done so cheerfully and kindly, that the very sight of his old wrinkled, weather-beaten face seemed like sunshine in the wretched rooms where poverty and want lived so hardly.
"More than one even of his little kitchens had been generously given away by Joe, and though they were really of no value, to him they were the produce of hours of labour and pains, and the means by which he earned his scanty living. Poor little Biddy Doolan, a small child, who had been wasting away many months in a slow decline, was found by her mother (who had gone to the dispensary for some medicine for her), lying back on the heap of straw, cold and lifeless, with the treasured kitchen, the one toy of a long miserable childhood, cuddled fast in the thin stiff arms. Old Joe cried over her like a child, and was more active than ever in his errands among the sick children. He was at last christened "Dr. Joe," by universal consent, and was really often sent for after the regular doctor, and he came as regularly, although he had no fee beyond the thanks of his poor little patients.
"I used always to accompany him in his weekly long journeys, holding the place of honour on the trays, next to Liza's basket, and many a funny scene have we witnessed together. Joe's customers were "legion," for every child that could raise twopence was ready enough to buy one of the kitchens. And as times did get a little better, Joe was able to add the long wished-for wooden table, which gave a great finish and air of reality to his little constructions. His sales rose one third after this, and Joe's spirits went up with them. On Liza's next visit she suggested that he might make a parlour too, she thought, and old Joe, getting quite venturesome, jumped at the idea.
"'I've a cousin in service, Joe,' said Liza, 'she lives nurse at Mrs. Spenser's , and I'll ask her if she can't save us up a few bits and scraps of print and muslin. I think I could help you a little too, even if 'tis only in a small way.'