Chapter IV: Elfie's Sixpence

SUSIE'S suspense as to the result of the landlord's visit came to an end sooner than she expected. He called earlier than usual to-day, and the poor girl's last faint hope that Elfie would be able to earn twopence and get back before he came was cut off as she heard his halting footsteps coming up the stairs. He knocked at the opposite door first, and Susie hoped he would be detained there, and she crept to the top of the stairs and looked over, in the hope of seeing Elfie coming up.

But Elfie was not to be seen; and with a sinking heart, Susie went back and took down the tin box, and then sat down to her work again, waiting for the door to open and Elfie to come in, for somehow she had persuaded herself that she would come in yet. But in a minute or two, the opposite door closed, and then there was a knock at her own. Susie could hardly walk across the room to open it, she trembled so violently.

"Good morning," said the landlord pleasantly, as he stepped in and looked round the room. "You keep the place nice and clean," he said approvingly. "But why don't you have a fire, child? It's cold to-day, and you sitting at your sewing."

"Yes, sir," said Susie meekly, glancing at the empty grate, and hardly knowing how to tell him she had not been able to make up the rent.

"You ought to have a fire," went on the man, not noticing her confusion, and wishing to say something kind to the poor little orphan. "You ought to have a fire this cold day; every other room in the house has one."

"Have they, sir?" said Susie, thinking the man was displeased. "I'm very sorry I can't get one too; but I don't think the place will get damp—we have one sometimes."

"The place get damp!" repeated the landlord. "What do you mean, child?"

"Please, sir, I thought you was afraid the room would spoil," said Susie, still dreading to make the revelation that she had only tenpence of the rent.

"Spoil!" repeated the man. And he looked round on the patched, discoloured walls, and laughed. "Why, child, you keep your room nicer than any other in the house. I was thinking you must be cold."

"I don't mind that much, sir, if I can only stay here," said Susie; "but—but please, sir, I've only got tenpence of the rent to-day. I hope you won't turn us out for the other twopence. I'll try and pay it next week, sir," she added.

The man took the halfpence and counted them, and then looked at the little pale, pinched face before him. He loved money, and was used to scenes of misery, but was not quite without human feeling, and Susie's mute distress was almost more than he could look upon unmoved. "Who told you I should turn you out, child?" he said.

"No one, but—but I was afraid you would if I didn't keep the rent paid," said Susie.

"Yes, to be sure—of course I should—I can't do without my rent," said the landlord; "but still, in the case of a little girl that's honest and tries to do her best, I shouldn't be hard on her for twopence. But you mustn't let the others know I said this," he added quickly.

"No, sir; and I'll try to pay it next week," answered Susie with a sigh of relief; as the man turned towards the door.

"Good-bye, child," said the man, still toying with the halfpence he held in his hand. Susie thought he had gone, and took up her work again, but the next minute he was back.

"Never mind about the twopence next week," he said in a hurried whisper: "and look here, child; I don't like to think of you sitting here without a fire: go and buy some wood and coals with this." And as he spoke he laid fourpence on the table, and then hurried to the door again.

Susie could not thank him, she could only look her dumb surprise, and then burst into tears. While he stumped downstairs, wondering what could have made him give back to the girl half a week's rent.

Susie knew how it was, although her landlord did not, and still sobbing, she knelt down to thank God for his loving care of her. As soon as her tears had subsided a little, and she could smile at the thought of her anticipated trouble that never came, she got up and went out to buy some wood and coals to light a fire; for she ought to do this, she thought, as the money had been given her for that purpose. She wanted to surprise Elfie, too, by getting up a bright blaze before she came in; so that she was rather disappointed, when she returned with her load, to see Elfie sitting down by the empty grate.

The coals were heavy, although there was only a small quantity, and Susie was panting for breath as she pushed open the door; but Elfie did not lift her head from her knees, where she had buried her face, as she sat crouching on the floor.

"What's the matter?" asked Susie in some alarm, as she lifted the coals on to the hearth.

"Nothing," replied Elfie, without raising her head.

Susie thought she knew what it was. "Look up, Elfie," she said, in a tone of gladness: "the landlord's been here, and it's all right now; and see what I've got."

Elfie slowly raised her head, but did not look at Susie or the bag of coals. "The landlord's been here," she slowly repeated; "then I'm too late after all;" and her head went down lower than before.

Susie was puzzled, until looking round she saw a little pile of halfpence on the table. "O Elfie, where did you get all that money?" she said in a tone of joyful surprise, as she sprang over to count it. "Sixpence! O Elfie, how rich we are! And I've just been to buy some coals to make a fire. But why don't you look up?" she added, as she noticed that her companion's head was still bowed upon her knees.

But Elfie did not move, did not attempt to lift her head, but grumbled out something Susie could not understand.

"Are you ill, Elfie?" asked Susie in alarm.

"No, no; leave me alone, and light the fire," said the girl, shaking off the hand that had been laid upon her shoulder.

"I know what it is: you're sorry you did not get home in time to pay the landlord. But it doesn't matter one bit; he was very kind, and won't turn us out, and we ain't to pay the twopence next week. Wouldn't you like to know how I got the coals?" said Susie.

"How did you get 'em?" said Elfie, just lifting her head for a minute.

"Hold your head up, then, and tell me how you got all that money on the table first," said Susie laughing.

But Elfie's head went down again at once. "I don't want to know about the coals," she said; "you can keep your secret and I'll keep mine."

"But it isn't a secret, Elfie. I'll tell you all about it," said Susie, beginning to place the wood in the grate, for she could not afford to waste her time.

"I don't want to know," replied Elfie. "Perhaps the angels your mother talked about brought you the money," she added.

"Did the angels bring yours?" asked Susie.

For answer, Elfie started from her seat, gave Susie a violent blow on her back, and rushed downstairs and out into the street.

As soon as Susie could recover from the blow, she ran out of the room calling, "Elfie! Elfie!" But Elfie was half-way up the lane by that time, and did not hear the call; and if she had, she would probably have run away the faster. When Susie went back she looked at the money that still lay on the table, wondering what could have made Elfie so cross. She could not understand this sudden change in her behaviour at all; she had always been so kind to her before, and it seemed hard to believe that it was Elfie who had struck her now.

After watching the fire for a minute or two, she washed her hands and sat down to work again, feeling very sad and uncomfortable, and wondering when Elfie would come back. Then she wondered whether she had had anything to eat to-day; she herself was hungry, and yet she had eaten a slice of bread, and had not been running about the streets as Elfie had.

"Oh, that has made her cross. She was so hungry, and yet she would not spend any money till she had brought it home, and then it was too late for the landlord. Poor Elfie! But never mind, we'll have a nice, real tea to-day." And as she spoke, Susie put on the tea-kettle, and then went out to buy the things for the real tea.

Just as it was getting dusk she got the tea ready, and then sat down to wait for Elfie's coming. But an hour passed and no one came; and then, feeling faint and almost sick with hunger, she took her tea by herself, feeling sadly disappointed that Elfie had not come home.

Elfie did not make her appearance until bed-time, and then she crept in, looking as cross and sullen as when she went out. Susie had forgotten her unkindness of the afternoon, and jumped up at once to meet her.

"O Elfie, why didn't you come before?" she said. "I got such a nice tea ready for you. But never mind; I've kept the teapot on the hob, so it's hot now, I daresay;" and she went to pour it out.

"I don't want any tea," said Elfie. "Where's the money I left on the table?"

"Did you want it? O Elfie, I've spent it," said Susie in dismay.

"Oh, it don't matter," said Elfie carelessly, beginning to take off some of her clothes, ready to go to bed.

"Won't you have some tea? Oh, do, Elfie," said Susie. "I'm sure you must be hungry. See, I've cut some bread for you, all ready."

But Elfie shook her head. "I don't want it," she said; "I'm not hungry." And in spite of all Susie's coaxing, she went to bed without touching a bit.

Susie had a great mind to cry. She felt so vexed; and she thought Elfie was cross now because she had spent the sixpence. She could not work any longer; so, putting out the candle, she undressed and crept into bed beside Elfie, who pretended to be fast asleep.

Susie found out, at last, that she was awake, and creeping closer to her she said, "I'm so sorry I spent the sixpence, Elfie; it seems so greedy of me."

"Bother the sixpence! Don't talk about that any more," said Elfie crossly.

"What shall we talk about?" said Susie. "I'm not at all sleepy, and I wanted to talk to you, to tell you how good 'our Father' had been to us to-day," she added in a whisper.

Elfie flounced herself over, pulling all the bed-clothes off Susie. "You're always talking about that," she said crossly.

Susie did not know what to say, and she felt so hurt that she burst into tears.

For a few minutes Elfie lay quite still; but at length she turned round and put the clothes over Susie's shoulders, saying, "There, don't cry, Susie. I'm such a wretch. I'll go away to-morrow."

But Susie's tears only fell the faster. "O Elfie, what have I done? I'm so sorry I spent the sixpence; but don't go away to-morrow, and I'll work and get you another." And she threw her arms round her companion's neck, and kissed her.

Elfie was crying too now. "I'd better go away, Susie," she said. "I'm a bad, wicked girl, and you'd better not love me any more."

"But I do love you," sobbed Susie. "O Elfie, don't go away and leave me!"

"But you can't love me now, Susie! I hit you this afternoon," said Elfie through her tears.

"I made you cross first. O Elfie, I did not think you wanted that sixpence for anything, and it was greedy of me to spend it!"

"No, it wasn't," said Elfie; "but don't talk about that any more. I want to forget all about it."

"Why?" asked Susie. "I like to think how I get my money, 'specially when somebody's kind, like the landlord was to-day. Don't you think it was God put it into his heart to give me fourpence, and not be cross about the rent?"

"I suppose it was," assented Elfie; "but I don't want to think about God any more, so don't talk about him."

"Don't want to think about God!" repeated Susie. "O Elfie, and you'd begun to say 'our Father,' and liked to hear me talk about the Lord Jesus being a poor man."

"Well, I don't want to hear any more about him; and I shan't say 'our Father' any more. He ain't my Father now," said Elfie doggedly.

"Why not? O Elfie! And he's been so good to us to-day," said Susie.

"Yes, I suppose he is good; and he makes me feel bad, and I never did feel so till to-day, so I'm going to forget him."

"O Elfie! And make him feel so sad and sorry about you," said Susie.

"Now, don't talk like that, or else I shall cry," said Elfie with a stifled sob. "I don't want you to love me now."

"But I can't help loving you—I will love you," said Susie passionately.

And instead of pushing her away, Elfie returned her caresses, and the two girls cried for some time, without speaking a word to each other.

At length Elfie said, "It makes me glad and sorry too, Susie."

"What does?" asked Susie.

"That you love me so. I didn't think you would after I hit you this afternoon. I'm so sorry I did it."

"Oh, never mind; I know you didn't mean to hurt me," said Susie cheerfully. "I know you loved me all the time."

"Yes, I do love you, Susie; but somehow I wish you didn't love me now," said Elfie with a deep sigh.

"Why?" asked Susie, in a tone of surprise.

"Because it ain't no good loving me; I'm bad. I didn't know I was till to-day; but I am, and you'd better not love me any more. God don't, I know," said Elfie.

"Yes, he does," said Susie quickly. "He loves you, Elfie, more than I can. He is—"

"There, hold your tongue. I don't want to hear about him," interrupted Elfie.

Susie was puzzled, but remained silent for a minute or two, and then asked—"Where have you been to-day, Elfie?"

"Oh, lots of places," she answered shortly. "But don't ask about that; tell me what you've been doing."

"Working, to be sure," answered Susie. There was nothing to tell beyond this. Her life was summed up in these words, for there was no change in it, save the weekly walk to take her work home.

Elfie's, on the contrary, was full of change, amid all its sameness in wandering; for there was constantly something happening, either in the streets or the market; and wherever a crowd collected, Elfie was sure to be; and from the remarks of the bystanders, she learned all that had happened, and was delighted to tell Susie when she returned home, so that her unwillingness to speak of this now was the more remarkable.

There seemed nothing they could talk about after Susie had given an account of the landlord's visit, and so they soon dropped asleep—Susie hoping that Ellie would tell her all about the sixpence the next day, and Elfie wishing Susie would soon forget all about it.

A fresh disappointment as the next morning. She had resolved to get up early, and prepare a "real breakfast," that Elfie might have some before she went out. But Elfie woke first, and went off without waking her, or taking any of the bread that had been cut the night before; and, contrary to her usual practice, she stayed out the whole of the day.