A Dog with a Bad Name

by Talbot Baines Reed

He became an expert nurse. He washed and dressed those two small brethren—the eldest of whom was barely three—as deftly and gently as if he had been trained to the work. And he manipulated their frugal meals, and stowed them away in his bed, with all the art of a practised nurse. How could he desert them now? How indeed? That very night, as he sat writing, with the little pair sleeping fitfully on the bed, a head was put in at the door, and a voice said in a whisper, “Poor Mrs Pratt’s gone, John.”

“What,” he said, “is she dead?”

“Yes—all of a sudden—the ’art done it—I know’d she was weak there. Poor dear—and her husband such a bad ’un too, and they do say she was be’ind with her rent.”

So the woman chattered on, and when at last she went, Jeffreys glanced at his two unconscious charges and went on writing. No, he could not leave Storr Alley.

In the morning, as usual, he performed their little toilets, and announced to the elder that his mother was gone away, and they might stay upstairs. Whereat the little orphan was merry, and executed a caper on the bare floor.

A fresh dilemma faced the newly made father. He must work if he and his family were to eat. The thirty shillings he had earned last week could not last for ever. Indeed, the neighbours all seemed to take it for granted he would see to Mrs Pratt’s burial; and how could he do otherwise? That meant a decided pull on his small resources. For a day or two he might live on his capital, and after that—

He put off that uncomfortable speculation. The baby began loudly to demand its morning meal; and the three-year-old, having run through its mirth, began to whimper for its mother. Altogether Jeffreys had a busy time of it.

So busy that when, about mid-day, Tim, who had been perched upon a box at the window to amuse himself at the peril of his neck by looking out into the court below, suddenly exclaimed—“There she is!” he bounded from his seat like one electrified, and for the first time realised that she might come and find him!

There was barely a chance of escape. She had already entered the house; and he became aware of the little flutter which usually pervaded the crowded tenement when she set foot in it. She had many families to visit, and each grudged her to the next. The women had yards of trouble to unroll to her sympathy; and the children besieged her for stories and songs. The sick lifted their heads as they heard her foot on the steps; and even the depraved and vicious and idle set their doors ajar to get a glimpse of her as she passed.

What could he do? Wait and face her, and perhaps meet her look of scorn, or worse still, of forgiveness? or hide from her? He debated the question till he heard her enter the chamber of death below.