Chapter VII: A Morning Walk

IT was a beautifully fine January morning on which Violet Wyndham, in company with Mrs. Reed and Ann, had her first glimpse of the town of Barford. The snow had been cleared from the roads, and the sun was shining, whilst a keen, north-east wind—exhilarating to strong, healthy people—was quickly drying up the pavements.

"I shall not be surprised if we have a spell of frost now," remarked Mrs. Reed, as they left Laureston Square and turned into a wide street with large, handsome shops on either side; "I am very fond of frosty weather, myself; but, for the sake of the poor, I hope we shall not get much of it."

"Are there many poor people in Barford?" asked Violet. The street was thronged with well-clad, prosperous-looking folks, she observed.

"Oh, yes, indeed there are!" Ann hastened to reply. "This is the new part of the town, Violet; but in the old part—oh, there it is far different from this!"

"We will take a walk through the old part as soon as I have finished my shopping, then Violet will understand better what Barford is like," said Mrs. Reed; "this is really only a suburb of the place, just as Streatham is a suburb of London."

"I don't know much about London," Violet admitted, "hardly anything, indeed. Once father took Ruth and me to St Paul's, and another time we went to the National Gallery, and he said he would take us to see the shops before Christmas, but he was very busy just then, and—and it costs money to go about, you know."

"Of course it does."

Mrs. Reed spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, and Violet, who had expected that she would evince great astonishment at her ignorance of London, was agreeably disappointed. By-and-by, Mrs. Reed having executed all her errands, at a whisper from Ann turned down a side street, which brought them to a large, red brick building, standing in its own grounds, which were entered from the road by a big, iron gate.

"There, Violet!" cried Ann. Violet looked at her inquiringly. "This is Helmsford College," Ann explained; "we day-scholars go in by that gate, it is locked now because Miss Orchardson, the principal, has not returned from her holidays yet, and the servants use a back entrance. What do you think of the place from the outside?"

"It is very big," Violet answered, somewhat awed by the size of the building; "are there a great many pupils?"

"Nearly two hundred—that is, counting both boarders and day-scholars."

"So many as that!" exclaimed Violet. "I do hope I shall be put in your class, Ann," she continued eagerly, "but I am afraid that is not very probable."

"Why not?" inquired Ann. "Oh, you think because I am a year older than you that I know more than you do. I'm not at all forward for my age, am I, mother?"

Mrs. Reed shook her head smilingly. She had already discovered that Violet was, in many ways, a precocious girl, and thought it very likely she was as advanced in general knowledge as her daughter.

Turning away from Helmsford College, they now left the fashionable suburb behind them, and soon Violet found the streets, through which they passed, narrower, the houses dingier, and the air less fresh and clear. Tall buildings with small windows and high chimneys appeared in sight, and the only pedestrians they met were those of the working classes, most of whom looked insufficiently clad and pinched with cold. Violet wondered how Mrs. Reed had learnt to know her way about in such a labyrinth of streets. By-and-by, on turning a corner, they came upon a figure clad in a blue serge gown with an old-fashioned cloak and bonnet, and they were accosted by the clear, decided voice of Dr. Elizabeth Ridgeway.

"Mrs. Reed, you Ann too! And here is my little travelling-companion! How do you do, all of you?"

"We are quite well, thank you," Mrs. Reed answered, as they shook hands, in turn, with the lady doctor. "Ann and I are showing Violet—no need to introduce you, I know—something of Barford, and I have a call to make in this district."

"I see. I am going to visit a patient in that house opposite, a sad case."

"Indeed?" Mrs. Reed said questioningly.

"Yes. My patient is a widow, the mother of four children, the eldest— a girl—no older than this child—" nodding at Violet; "the poor woman has had a severe attack of pneumonia, but, with God's help, I'm pulling her round. During her illness the eldest girl has been the main support of the family."

"How?" asked Ann, her eyes kindling with eager interest.

"By charing, my dear. It's a fact. Fancy a charwoman of only fourteen years old! There's a heroine for you!" And with a nod and a smile the lady doctor crossed the road, opened the door of the house she had indicated, and disappeared within.

"This is a district where she has always a great many patients," Mrs. Reed explained to Violet, as they proceeded on their way, "they are mostly poor people who work in the factories."

"But can people like that pay her?" Violet asked, looking at Mrs. Reed in surprise, and then turning her brown eyes to Ann, who answered quickly:—

"Oh, very little!"

"They pay her what they can," said Mrs. Reed; "she knows what they can afford, and charges accordingly; but, frequently, I have no doubt she gets no remuneration for her services. She was born and brought up in Barford. Her father was a factory owner who made a large fortune, and she chose to become a doctor for various reasons. In those days people looked rather askance at lady doctors, so that when, having taken her diploma in Edinburgh, she returned to her native town and commenced to practise, the medical men hereabouts were not very well pleased; but they soon began to recognise her ability, and, as her patients for some years were mostly confined to those whom other doctors were in no wise eager to attend, and she never gave advice free to anyone who could make payment, they soon treated her with more cordiality. She leads a most unselfish life—a life devoted to her fellow creatures, and I do not believe there is a woman more hard worked in the town than 'Dr. Elizabeth,' as she is generally called, and certainly there is not one more respected or beloved by all classes."

"But if her father made a large fortune, if she was not poor, why did she become a doctor to work so hard?" inquired Violet, really puzzled.

"Oh, Violet, don't you understand?" exclaimed Ann. "Why, it was because she saw that by becoming a doctor she could do such a lot of good in the world. Doctors often go to see people that clergymen and ministers know nothing about. It seemed to her that God had been so bountiful to her in giving her so many talents, money, and health, and brains—she told me this herself—that she was sure He meant her to use them in the service of those not so well off as herself."

"In short, she works for Christ's sake," Mrs. Reed said softly, "for the least of His brethren. Now, Violet, you understand?"

"Y-e-s," Violet answered, rather doubtfully.

"I suppose we are going to see Malvina Medland, mother?" questioned Ann.

"Yes, my dear," was the response.

"Who is that?" Violet asked. "Malvina! What an uncommon name!"

"Isn't it?" said Ann, smiling. "Malvina is a poor, deformed girl, she has something amiss with her spine and she suffers terribly in her back sometimes, but she is the most cheerful body in the world, I should think. She lives with her mother and sister—Lottie, the sister is called—who both work in a factory. Malvina stays at home all day long and earns a living by doing plain sewing, and 'minding babies' as she calls it."

"Minding babies!" exclaimed Violet, opening her eyes very wide in her astonishment.

"Yes. She takes in the babies of women who are obliged to leave their homes by day, and looks after them—'minds them' as she would say. Why, there she is!"

Looking ahead Violet saw a girl apparently of about sixteen years of age, with a baby in her arms, standing in a doorway. At the first glance she noted the fact that the poor girl was deformed. Her face, though quite colourless, was very beautiful, with large, limpid, blue eyes, and regular features; it lit up with a bright, welcoming smile as she caught sight of the approaching trio.

"Well, Malvina, how are you to-day, my dear?" Mrs. Reed asked kindly.

"Better than usual, ma'am, thank you," was the response, spoken in a brisk tone. "I hope you and Miss Ann are well?"

"Yes, thank you." Then, as Malvina's eyes glanced with interest at Violet, Mrs. Reed continued: "This is a friend of ours, from London, who is going to make her home with us for the time. Are you wise, Malvina, to stand out here without a hat?"

"I rarely catch cold, ma'am," smiled Malvina; "and the baby is well wrapped up—this is the only one I have to mind to-day."

"Business is rather slack then?" Mrs. Reed inquired.

"Yes, ma'am. Lots of women are out of work, I'm sorry to say, and that's hard for them and me, too. Please to come inside."

Malvina led the way into a kitchen, which appeared very dark, at first, for the window was small and high in the wall, and consequently gave very little light; but, when Violet could see better, she noticed that the room was tidy and clean, the tins on the mantelpiece shone like silver, the deal table was as white as scrubbing could make it, and there was not a speck of dust visible anywhere. Suspended before the window was a fern in a pot, which, Violet subsequently learnt, Ann had brought home to Malvina from Devonshire the preceding summer, and was now the hunchback's most cherished possession.

"Please to sit down," said Malvina, and her visitors accordingly did so, whilst she stood by the fireplace—in which was no fire—rocking the baby in her arms.

"I am sorry to hear there are so many women out of work," Mrs. Reed remarked, regretfully; "but your mother and sister are not amongst the number?"

"No, ma'am, I'm thankful to say they are not, though their wages have been cut; but 'half a loaf is better than no bread,' and we must be glad of that. Things will be better as the spring comes on; folks will find they want new clothing, and orders will come in faster then. My mother and sister work at a factory where they make clothing, miss," she explained to Violet, who was listening to her with interest, "coats, and skirts, and blouses, and everything that people buy ready-made."

"I see," said Violet. "Do your mother and sister get good wages generally?"

"No, miss. They earn just enough, as a rule, to keep a roof over our heads, and provide food—sometimes not much of that. 'Tis a shame they should not be better paid, 'tis most unfair, but there's no helping it."

"I want three dozen yards of crochet edging like the last you worked for me, Malvina," said Mrs. Reed; "here is the money for the cotton, and perhaps you will be able to walk as far as Laureston Square with the work when you have finished it? If it is fine the walk will do you good—that is, if you are pretty well; but, remember you are not to do the return journey without a rest, you must not hurry away as you did the last time."

"Try to come on a Saturday," said Ann, "then you will be more likely to find me at home. My friend and I are going to school next week, but Saturdays are always whole holidays, you know."

"You are so kind," murmured Malvina, a faint colour creeping into her pale cheeks, "no one else is so kind except Dr. Elizabeth. I am so very glad to get this order for crochet, because I have a good bit of time on my hands now there are so few babies to mind."

"Have you seen Dr. Elizabeth lately?" inquired Mrs. Reed.

"About a fortnight ago, ma'am. My back had been very bad, paining me worse than usual, and mother asked Dr. Elizabeth to give me something to ease the pain, and she did. She came to see me and talked to me, and I think what she said and the heartening way of her did me almost as much good as her medicine. She's that cheerful!"

"You have no fire," observed Mrs. Reed, glancing at the cold hearth.

"No, ma'am. I shan't light it till just before mother and Lottie come home; one doesn't miss a fire much when the sun shines. 'Twas quite pleasant on the doorstep."

After a little further conversation the visitors rose to depart. Malvina followed them to the street door, where they said good-bye to her, and Violet noticed that Ann lingered a moment to slip something into her hand, whispering, as she did so, a few words, one of which was "coal."

"Is Barford anything like what you had pictured it, my dear?" Mrs. Reed inquired of Violet by-and-by, as they turned their backs on the narrow streets of the town for a wider thoroughfare.

"No," Violet replied frankly, "I did not think there were so many poor people living here. That hunchback girl is very poor, isn't she?"

"She is, indeed; sometimes she and her mother and sister have lacked the necessaries of life, and theirs is only one case amongst many." Mrs. Reed looked with kindly scrutiny at Violet as she proceeded: "There is, unfortunately, so little one can do to help people like that, but that little one ought to do by living carefully and giving away all one can. You know, my dear, as a rule, it is only those who save off themselves who have anything to give; if people live up to their incomes they cannot do much towards helping other people."

Violet looked meditative, and made no answer. At that minute they came to a florist's shop, in the window of which were exhibited several pots of beautiful hyacinths nearly in full bloom. Ann had declared her intention of purchasing one of these pots on her way home; but she would have passed by now, without even glancing at the flowers, had not her mother said:—

"How about the hyacinths, Ann? I thought you proposed to make yourself a present?"

"I am not going to do so, after all, mother," Ann replied calmly, though she coloured as she walked straight on.

And then Violet realised, with swift comprehension, that Ann had given to Malvina the money with which she had intended to purchase the flowers, and she expected Mrs. Reed would buy the sweet-scented blooms for her daughter. Mrs. Reed, however, did nothing of the kind, but merely said:—

"Oh, very well, Ann."