Jill: A Flower Girl Read online

thismorning, Jill! I'm shamed to sit near you, that I am. Look at mine.They were under Kathie's bed all night, and they seem to smell of thefaver. Oh, I'll get 'em off ef I sell 'em chape. You lend me a coil ofwire, honey, and you'll see how I'll smarten 'em up."

  Jill handed the wire to her neighbour with scarcely a remark. Herthoughts were far away with Nat, and the home they might soon havetogether. She wondered if they might really dare to take that flat nextto Mrs Stanley's--if by any possible means they could justify forthemselves the extravagance of paying seven shillings a week for theirrooms. Then how would her mother do without her? Who would help hermother when she got those queer attacks of pain, those unsupportablehours of agony which had hitherto found relief only in the one way?

  Jill knew that it was very wrong of her mother to drink. The girl's ownnature was so upright, so sweet, so high, that it was absolutelyrepulsive to her to see any one in the state in which she often nowdiscovered her poor mother. The aim and object of her life was to hidethe disgrace of her mother's intemperate fits from the rest of theworld; she called them by any name but the true one. She was ready tocover them with any amount of lies if necessary; she would have knockeddown any one who accused her mother of getting drunk; even Mrs Robinsonherself, in her repentant moments, did not dare to call a spade aspade--did not dare to speak of what she had done by its true name.Jill never blamed her, she put it all down to the pain and misery. Itseemed to her there was no remedy left to her mother but to drown hersufferings in drink, and yet the fact cast a shadow over her own life,and caused her to sigh heavily, even though Nat was coming in theevening, and they could talk about their wedding-day, which was so soonto arrive.

  As she arranged her flowers with deft fingers this morning she made upher mind that she would say yes to Nat. She would be in the same housewith her mother, and could still look after her. As to the boys, theywere both of them doing for themselves. Jill scarcely gave them athought at all in making her arrangements.

  Yes, she would marry Nat, and trust to his never discovering that uglysecret about her mother.

  She had just finished the arrangement of her basket, picturesquelyheaping her masses of pink, white, and yellow poppies at one side, andher roses and forget-me-nots at another, when a tall girl, dressed inthe costume of the Flower Girls' Guild, came up with a basket of flowerson her arm and spoke to her.

  She was a handsome girl, and looked striking in her neat grey dress andscarlet apron. Her hair was of a pale gold, her eyes large and blue;the expression of her somewhat pale face a little austere. Her basketwas full of lovely fresh flowers, but although they were superior toJill's in quality, they did not make nearly so fine a show.

  "Is that you, Jill?" she called out. "Nat told me you were here. Whyain't your mother with you? Ain't she well?"

  "No, she has a fit of that old pain over her," responded Jill. "I lefther lying down. The pain takes a deal out of her, and I thought she hadbest be quiet."

  "Don't she see no doctor? We has a splendid one belonging to the Guild;ef you and your mother would only join, you'd get a heap o' good out ofit, Jill. But you're that obstinate, and when the best thing in theworld is offered to you, you won't so much as open your eyes to see it.I wonder Nat holds on to you, that I do."

  Jill smiled, reddened, and was about to reply, when the Irishwomancalled out in her brilliant tones:

  "What I say of Nat Carter is this, that he's the luckiest gossoon in allLondon to have got the purtiest bit of a colleen to say she'll wed him.Why, you ain't got looks lit to hold a candle to her, Susy Carter, eventhough you are Nat's sister."

  "Well, well," said Susan, in a slightly patronising manner, "we musteach of us go our own gait. If Jill and her mother won't join theGuild, I can't force 'em. Maybe you'll do it later on, if Nat wishesit, Jill. And, oh, what do you think, here's a bit o' luck; I has justgot that stand I was waiting for so long near the Marble Arch. The girlwot had it died yesterday, and I've stepped into her shoes, and a rightgood think I'll make of it. I must be off now, or I'll lose customers.Good-bye, Jill. Oh, by-the-way, you might as well mass these coloursfor me. I can't make my basket look like yourn, however hard I try."

  Susy Carter put her basket on the ground as she spoke. Jill bent overit, re-arranged the flowers without a word, and returned it to her.

  "Thank you--thank you," she cried delightedly. "Why, Jill, what fingersyou has! Who but yourself would have thought of putting these pinkpeonies close to all them crimson poppies, and then throwing up thecolour with this bunch of green. Oh, it's daring, but it's lovely;it'll fetch like anything. Now I'm off You get your mother to see adoctor, Jill."

  "No, I won't," said Jill, shortly, "I don't believe in 'em, neither doesmother."

  "Right you are, honey," exclaimed Molly Maloney, "I don't hold bydocthors, nayther. If my little Kathleen dies of the faver--bless her,the darlint!--why, I know as it's the will of the Almighty. But ef thedocthor came and gave her his pizens--what is it, miss--what now?"

  "Do you say you have a child down in fever?" said Susy Carter, speakingin a quick, passionate voice.

  The Irishwoman was lounging with her back against the wall. She nowstarted upright, and spoke defiantly.

  "And why mayn't I have my darlint child down with the faver?" shedemanded, her eyes darkening with anger.

  "Did you keep those flowers in the room with the sick child all night?"

  "Yes, my purty, I did. Would you like a bunch? you shall have it chape.A ha'p'ny for this rose; it'll look iligant pinned on the front of yourdress. Now, then, only a ha'p'ny. Why, there ain't no chaper flowersin the whole of London."

  "It's very wicked of you to sell those flowers," said Susy. "You maygive the fever to a lot of other people by doing so. That's the good ofbelonging to our Guild. We have a beautiful cool room to keep ourflowers in at night, so that no one can be poisoned by them. They keepfresh, and they last, and they don't carry horrid diseases about withthem. It's very wicked of you to sell those flowers. You ought tothrow them away."

  She picked up her basket as she spoke and marched off.

  Molly sat down, muttering angry words under her breath.

  "I wonder you takes up with the likes of her, Jill," she said, when shehad cooled down sufficiently to address a few words to her companion.

  Jill, who was in a day-dream, looked round with a start.

  "Take up with whom?" she said.

  "That consated bit of a colleen, Susy Carter. You're goin' to marry herbrother. Seems to me you're throwing yourself away. Why, honey, you'reilligant enough and handsome enough to be any man's chice."

  "Yes, but I love Nat," interrupted Jill. "I'm not marrying Susy--Idon't much care for Susy. Yes, ma'am? These bunches are twopence each,these a penny. I'll give you this bunch of poppies for sixpence, ma'am,and put some green with it."

  A lady who had just come up from the Underground Railway had stopped,arrested by the beauty of Jill's flowers. She was holding a prettilydressed little girl of about six years old by the hand.

  The child was all in white. She had cloudy golden hair falling over hershoulders, her round pink and white face resembled a daisy in itsfreshness.

  The lady was in deep mourning; the expression of her slightly worn facewas sad.

  "Shall I put the poppies up for you, ma'am?" repeated Jill.

  "Yes. I will give you sixpence for that bunch, but be sure you let mehave some green with it."

  "I want to spend my penny on flowers, mother," said the child.

  "Well, darling, choose. This nice flower girl will give you a prettyposy for a penny."

  "I want two posies," said the child. "One for Dick, and one for Dolly.It's Dick's birthday, but if I give him a posy, and don't give Dollyone, Dolly will cry."

  The pretty child's little voice was full of anxious confidence. Inmaking her statement she felt sure of sympathy, and she addressed notonly her mother, but Jill and Molly Maloney.

  Molly, who was squ
atting down on her knees, began to murmur an eagertorrent of Irish blessings.

  "Eh, glory! What a darlint it is!" she said. "For all the world likemy little Kathleen! And so you want some flowers, my beauty? You letme sarve her, Jill. I has got rose-buds and mignonette all made up mostenticing only a ha'p'ny a bunch."

  "I want two bunches," repeated the child in her clear, precise voice,"one for Dick, because it's his birthday, and one for Dolly. Dolly'sfree years old, and