“And you never look to Heaven, lass?” again said the woman.
“Never got anything from that quarter yet,” was the reply, in the same strain. “Will Heaven enable you to take that pawn-ticket out of your pouch and get your blankets back?”
“Ay, and maybe mair,” said the woman; “but though Providence may look sour on me, there’s the Lord of providence, lass, mind that; and He can smile on you even when you’re suffering, for He knows He can take you out of it. And what church go ye to with these notions in your head?”
“No one,” was the saucy answer; “there’s no kail in the kirks;” then with a laugh, “The ministers eat all the shewbread.”
And what more of this kind of talk which I have reported, perhaps in a form different from what took place, but retaining the general sentiments of both, I cannot say, for they moved off. I saw them still at it in the midst of the square, and till they came to the end of the close opposite Hunter Square, where they parted. Meanwhile I went down the steps by the Bridge, and making a circle round, I saw the woman making for Hunter Square, where there was a crowd round an Italian with a puggy—general holding a levee—a more sensible animal than its master. Then keeping my eye on Mary Anne, I saw her join William Walker and James M‘Guire, two of my very best friends, as ready to do me a service now as they had done before on more occasions than one. They did not seem at the moment to be in so playful a mood as the Italian’s puggy; and I did not look for much sport till I got my expectations sharpened by their movement after Mrs Kerr (that was the name, I think) towards the two mountebanks, who had removed to the south of the Tron.
I then wheeled round the north-east corner of the church, and keeping my eye on my trio, I placed myself in a stair-foot on the east side of the South Bridge, from which I could see both sets of performers, as well as those performed upon. Mrs Kerr, who, in Lady Lawson’s Wynd, had no opportunity of seeing monkeys from her garret window, seemed to have forgotten the sorrows of her rent-day and the pawn-shop, and was gaping, as all sight-seers do, at the evolutions of pug, one of whose best feats, general as he was, was to extract his master’s pocket handkerchief from the one pocket of his cotton velvet coat and put it in the other, and then came the laugh, in which, I presume, the widow of the sorrowful face joined, when the Italian sought for the article in the wrong pocket. Mrs Kerr did not take the lesson, though the Italian, as a kind of philanthropist, might have had the credit of putting his crowd upon their guard. The simple woman, from whose mind all her sorrows seemed, for the moment, banished, enjoyed this trick wonderfully, for I could see the careworn face lighted up with the very extreme of satisfaction. Mary Anne was now at her back, apparently gaping too, and behind her stood Walker and M‘Guire, as interested in pug’s pocket-picking as if the trick had been one new to them, and worthy of being learned.
Now I fairly admit that, while I expected something, I was utterly unprepared for an attack on Mary Anne’s part on her poor old friend of the entry; for however harsh her words were to the old woman, I still thought she had some qualms of pity excited in her by that sorrowful wail which had struck my own ears as something touching and heart-stirring. I had been simply false to my experience, while Mary Anne remained true to her heartless craft. Yes, I saw the young hopeless extract from Mrs Kerr’s pocket something, doubtless the ten shillings, and hand it to M‘Guire, whereupon they all three hurried away down the High Street.
My energy was roused in a moment, sharpened by the cruelty of this most heartless robbery. My course was, to myself, clear, though not, perhaps, what you might imagine. I have always had a horror of being seen rushing along the street, like Justice under hysterics flying after a victim. It’s not decorous, and, besides, it does no good. The red-hand is a good catch, but I have often enough known a startled thief drop a valuable which never could be recovered, and I have found my account better balanced by knowing my man, and catching him with the booty, when he thinks all safe. In this case, I allowed the three to pass me, nor did I lay hands on them. I first hurried up to Mrs Kerr, and touching her on the shoulder,
“Is your ten shillings safe in your pocket?” said I.
“My ten shillings!” said she, nervously; “surely it is, but how do you know I had ten shillings in my pocket?”