Uncle Max. Rosa Nouchette Carey
As I went upstairs I made a resolution to avoid the kitchen in future: I might at any moment stumble upon Mr. Hamilton. I had forgotten that he gave Nathaniel lessons sometimes in the evening. What a ubiquitous mortal this man appeared, here, there, and everywhere! It had given me rather a shock to see him so comfortably domiciled in Mrs. Barton's cosy kitchen; he looked as much at home there as in Uncle Max's study. How bright Nathaniel had looked as he raised his head to bid me good-night! I was obliged to confess that they had seemed as happy as possible.
It was very late when he left the cottage; I was just sinking off to sleep when I heard his voice under my window. Tinker heard it too, and barked, and then the gate shut with a sudden sharp click and all was still. Nathaniel must have crept up to bed in his stocking-feet, as they say in some parts, for I never heard him pass my door.
I was glad to be greeted by sunshine the next morning; the day seemed to smile on my new work like an unuttered benison, as I went down to my solitary breakfast. I resolved that nothing Mr. Hamilton could say should damp or put me out of temper, and then I sat down and read a sad rambling letter from Jill, which was so quaint and original, in spite of its lugubriousness, that it made me smile.
I was standing by the door, caressing Tinker, who was in a frolicking mood this morning, when I saw Mr. Hamilton cross the road; he wore a dark tweed suit and a soft felt hat—a costume that did not suit him in the least; he held open the gate for me, and made a sign that I should join him. As I approached without hurrying myself in the least, he looked inquiringly at the basket I carried.
'I hope you do not intend to pauperise your patients,' was his first greeting.
'Oh no,' was my reply, but I did not volunteer any information as to the contents of the basket. There was certainly a jar of beef-tea that Mrs. Drabble had given me, and a few grapes; but the little store of soap, soda, fine rags, and the two or three clean towels and cloths would have surprised him a little, though he might have understood the meaning of the neat housewife.
'I am glad you wear print dresses,' was his next remark; 'they are proper for a nurse. Stuff gowns that do not wash are abominations. I am taking you to a very dirty place, Miss Garston, but what can you expect when there are seven children under thirteen years of age and the mother is dying? She was a clean capable body when she was up; it is hard for her to see the place like a pig-sty now. Old Mrs. Marshall is blind, and as helpless as the children,' He spoke abruptly, but not without feeling.
'The neighbours are good to them, Uncle Max tells me.'
'Oh yes; they come in and tidy up a bit, that is their expression; now and then they wash the baby or take off a batch of dirty clothes, but they have their own homes and children. I tell my patient that she would be far more comfortable in a hospital; but she says she cannot leave the children, she would rather die at home. That is what they all say.'
'But the poor creatures mean what they say, Mr. Hamilton.'
'Oh, but it is all nonsense!' he returned irritably. 'She can do nothing for the children; she cannot have a moment's quiet or a moment's comfort, with all those grimy noisy creatures rushing in and out. I found her sitting up in bed yesterday, in danger of breaking a blood-vessel through coughing, because one of the imps had fallen down and cut his head and she was trying to plaster it.'
'Her husband ought to be with her,' I said, somewhat indignantly.
'He is on a job somewhere, and cannot come home; they must have bread to eat, and he must work. This is the house,' pointing to a low white cottage at the end of a long straggling street of similar houses; two or three untidy-looking children were playing in the front garden with some oyster-shells and a wooden horse without a head. One little white-headed urchin clapped his hands when he saw Mr. Hamilton, and a pretty little girl with a very dirty face ran up to him and clasped him round the knee.
''As 'oo any pennies to-day?' she lisped.
'No nonsense; run away, children,' he said, in a rough voice that did not in the least alarm them, for they scampered after us into the porch until an elder girl, with a year-old baby in her arms, met us on the threshold and scolded them away.
Mr. Hamilton shook a big stick at them.
'I shall give no pennies to children with dirty faces. Well, Peggy, how is mother? Have the boys gone to school, both of them? That is right. This is the lady who is coming to look after mother.'
Here Peggy dropped a courtesy, and said, 'Yes, sir,' and 'yes please, mum.'
'Mind you do all she tells you. Now out of my way. I want to speak to your grandmother a moment, and then I will come into the other room.'
I followed him into the untidy, miserable looking kitchen. An old woman was sitting by the fire with an infant in her arms; we found out that it belonged to the neighbour who was washing out some things in the yard. She came in by and by, clattering over the stones in her thick clogs—a brisk, untidy-looking young woman—and looked at me curiously as she took her baby.
'I must be going home now, granny,' she said, in a loud, good-humoured voice. 'Peggy can rinse out the few things I've left.'
Granny had a pleasant, weather-beaten face, only it looked sunken and pale, and the poor blind eyes had a pathetic, unseeing look in them. To my surprise, she looked neat and clean. I had yet to learn the slow martyrdom the poor soul had endured during the last few months in that squalid, miserable household. To her, cleanliness was next to godliness. She had brought up a large family well and thriftily, and now in her old age and helplessness her life had no comfort in it. I was rather surprised to see Mr. Hamilton shake the wrinkled hand heartily.
'Well, Elspeth, what news of your son? Is he likely to come home soon?'
'Nay, doctor,' in a faint old treble: 'Andrew cannot leave his job for two or three months to come. He is terrible down-hearted about poor Mary. Ay, she has been a good wife to him and the bairns; but look at her now! Poor thing! Poor thing!'
'We must all dree our weird. You are a canny Scotch-woman, and know what that means. Come, you must cheer up, for I have brought a young lady with me who is going to put your daughter-in-law a little more comfortable and see after her from time to time.'
'Ay, but that is cheering news,' returned Elspeth; and one of the rare tears of old age stole down her withered cheek. 'My poor Mary! she is patient, and never complains; but the good Lord is laying a heavy cross on her.'
'That is true,' muttered Mr. Hamilton, and then he said, in a business-like tone, 'Now for the patient, Miss Garston'; and as he led the way across the narrow passage we could hear the hard, gasping cough of the sick woman.
Peggy, with the baby still in her arms, was trying to stir a black, cindery fire, that was filling the room with smoke. The child was crying, and the poor invalid was sitting up in bed nearly suffocated by her cough. The great four-post bed blocked up the little window. The remains of a meal were still on the big round table. Some clothes were drying by the hearth; a thin tortoise-shell cat was licking up a stream of milk that was filtering slowly across the floor, in the midst of jugs, cans, a broken broom, some children's toys, and two or three boots. The bed looked as though it had not been made for days; the quilt and valance were deplorably dirty; but the poor creature herself looked neat and clean, and her hair was drawn off from her sunken cheeks and knotted carefully at the back of her head. Mr. Hamilton uttered an exclamation of impatience when he saw the smoke, and almost snatched the poker out of Peggy's hands.
'Take the child away,' he said angrily. 'Miss Garston, if you can find some paper and wood in this infernal confusion, I shall be obliged to you: this smoke must be stopped.'
I found the broken lid of a box that split up like tinder, and Peggy brought me an old newspaper, and then I stood by while Mr. Hamilton skilfully manipulated the miserable fire.
'All these ashes must be removed,' he said curtly, as he rose with blackened hands: 'the whole fireplace is blocked up with them.' And then he went to the pump and washed his hands, while I sent Peggy after him with a nice clean towel from my basket. While he was gone I stepped up to the bed and