CHAPTER I.

WINNY CHAPLIN'S HOME.

"FATHER won't be long now, and as he didn't get any work yesterday, he's sure to to-day. He allus does, I've noticed," and the speaker, a pretty little girl of ten, carefully dropped a few cinders on the fire as she spoke, that the room might look bright and cheerful for her father when he came in from his work at the docks.

"Are you very hungry, Letty?" asked a voice from the corner.

The girl sitting in the glow of the firelight turned towards the shadowed corner where her sister lay on a home-made couch of boxes and asked: "Will you want some more medicine, do you think?"

"I'm afraid so; I haven't had any for a week, and my back is getting bad again. But we won't say anything about it till we see how much father gets to-day. Mother is sure to get eighteen pence for her washing at Mrs. Rutter's, so she might be able to spare sixpence for a bottle of medicine if father got a day's work too."

"He wouldn't get a whole day—why, he hasn't had a whole day's work for a long time! But he might get a shilling or perhaps a little more, and then I should think you might have the medicine. I'll go and have a look up the street and see if he is coming, for I know you want your tea badly by this time. I had my dinner at the mission-hall, so I'm not so hungry as you are." And as she spoke she opened the door, letting out a glow of ruddy firelight that drew another girl to the doorway.

"How are you to-day, Winny?" she said thrusting her head in and looking round the room. "How jolly you always look in here!" she added surveying the little room, that did have an air of comfort about it in spite of its shabby furniture, which looked quite rich and luxurious in the glow of the firelight.

There was a carpet on the floor that still retained patches of crimson here and there. Winny's box couch, too, was covered with a patchwork of cretonne which looked bright and pretty; and there was an arm-chair covered in the same fashion on the other side of the fireplace, and a little round table in the middle of the room covered with a white cloth, on which was set out the tea-cups and a plate or two, but not an atom of food, because the last morsel was eaten at breakfast time, and until father or mother came home with the day's earnings, no tea could be had by the sisters.

Most eagerly did Letty peer into the darkness of the dreary little street. The wind blew cuttingly cold off the river, and although it was not much after five o'clock, it had been so dull and foggy all day that now in the March wind everybody had been glad to get indoors, and no one was to be seen moving about. Here and there lights twinkled in the windows of the houses; but many, like this home window of Letty's, only showed the red glow of a little cinder fire made ready for the festival of the day—tea, when the children were at least sure of half a meal if the father's earnings would not get them a whole one.

After looking up and down the street for either father or mother to appear, Letty went indoors and upstairs, for she was shivering, and the little stool by the fireside was more comfortable than the door-step.

"Was that Annie Brown went out just now?" she asked rather sharply as she came in.

"Yes. She just looked in as she went by," answered the voice in the corner.

"I wonder you talk to her, Winny, when you know they are all such a bad lot," said her sister shutting the door with a bang.

"Oh, Annie is not so bad when you come to know her. Her father works at the docks; gets more work, I think, than father does, and—"

"That may be, but still I know mother don't want me to go to play with her," said Letty speaking somewhat severely.

But her sister only smiled to herself in the shadow. Letty was like her mother, and prided herself on holding herself aloof from a good many—nay, most of their neighbours, for they had not always been so poor as they now were.

Chaplin had been a carpenter, but ill-health and bad times had thrown him out of work, and he had drifted from one thing to the other until at last he had been glad to get an occasional day's work at the docks as a day labourer, while his wife got a little charing at some of the larger houses close at hand.

In this way, a year or two had passed, during which, if they had sunk no lower, they had made no headway towards recovering their position. And during this time, the eldest girl, Winny, had gradually sunk into a state of ill-health that at first seemed likely to add to her father's despondency. But the girl herself developed a cheerfulness that made her a very fountain of hope and good cheer for others, although she seemed to have given up all thought of being any better herself.

No one seeing that pale patient face on the pillow of her couch would ever have dreamt what she was, not only to her own mother, father, and sister, but to all who lived in the house. When people came as new tenants, they would hear from one and the other of "little Winny Chaplin" before they had been in the house a week, and if anybody was in trouble, Winny was sure to know all about it. The little back room they occupied was in point of fact the heart of that house with its cluster of households, and so it was no uncommon thing for one and the other to open the door and exchange a word or two with the invalid, especially when her mother was out all day.

In this way she learned to know her neighbours as her mother never would; for there was something so winning about the girl, that people talking to her forgot sometimes that she was only a girl, and told her of troubles that they would have shrunk from imparting to older and wiser friends. Then, too, Winny always had time to listen to their stories, and the very telling them to such a sympathetic listener often lifted the load a little; and if Winny could do no more, she would whisper tenderly to her visitor: "God knows all about it, you know. I will ask him to help you."

Sometimes a curious smile would part the lips of the complainer when she said this, for however heavy the trouble under discussion might be, it rarely happened that it was so great as that affliction she herself was called upon to endure, and perhaps the visitor would add: "Do you think God knows about your own trouble?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure he does," Winny would reply with a bright look. "He is so good to me that—that—I hardly know how to be thankful enough. I wasn't just at first, you know," she would hasten to add. "I used to think that God ought to make me well quick, and let me go to Sunday-school again; and when he did not seem to hear, and I got weaker and weaker, I began to cry, until one day it all at once came over me like a great light that God had some work for me to do lying still on this couch. Then I thought how the Lord Jesus had been willing to come and live here—and it must have been a very horrid place for him to live in; but he came to do his Father's work and to save us, and so he did not mind. And when I thought of this, I felt so glad that I forgot the pain in my back for a long time. So, you see, God is helping me all the time, for he is always pouring just as much gladness into my heart as I can bear."

"But, Winny," the friends had said, "if God helps you as you say, why does not he make you well? Don't you think he could?"

"Oh, yes, of course; and I daresay it would be quite as easy for him to make me well as to give me so much gladness. But then it might not be so good for me, or for the people about here. Don't you see I'm doing God's work here? Only a little bit of course; but it is enough to make anyone feel glad to be able to do even a little bit for the dear Lord who gave all his life for us."

So it was not strange that Annie Brown should sometimes look in upon the invalid, although she did have the character of being a wild, bold girl.

Mrs. Chaplin, however, did not like her or her father, who often spent his money in drink when he earned a little more than usual. And so Letty was quite right in what she said; and her sister did not contradict her, but just smiled to herself in the shadow while Letty carefully dropped a few more cinders on the fire.

Before she had finished, the street door opened, and the next minute Winny exclaimed joyfully, "There's father at last, open the door quick!"

Letty needed no second bidding; she dropped the shovel she had in her hand and ran to the door of the room.

"You're late, father," she said by way of greeting, looking at him keenly to see by his face how much money his pocket was likely to contain.

The signs were not very favourable. Chaplin was looking sad and dispirited, and as he dropped into the arm-chair which Letty had drawn round to the fire, he said, "Only an hour's work—only fi'pence, my lasses."

Winny felt disappointed. She had made so sure her father would at least get two hours work and bring home tenpence to-night. She heaved a little sigh as she thought of the medicine that could not be bought now, and then conquering her own personal share of the disappointment, she said, "Get a loaf and a bit of dripping if you can, Letty; father is hungry I can see. We can make the old tea leaves do once more, and there is some sugar in the cupboard, I think."

Letty soon put on her hat, and taking up the little pile of halfpence which her father laid down on the table, she ran downstairs and out of the house.

Winny watched her father as he sat with his head drooped on his hand, looking too weary to talk. The girl knew the signs too well to speak to him just now. By and by, when he had had his tea, he would tell them about his day's work, and how many men were standing about outside the dock gates to-day—waiting for a chance to be called in.

Presently Letty came back with a rare treasure in her hand. As she came up the street from the chandler's shop, the wind brought a newspaper rustling and fluttering down from the main road at the other end. Letty picked it up and stood with it in her hand, thinking someone would come out of the darkness and claim it; but after standing for a minute or two peering into the gloom, and neither seeing or hearing anyone, she decided that she might take it home to her father.

"Look here, father, what I have found," she said holding out the paper.

"Ah! That'll be a treat," he said holding out his hand to take it. "Can we have a light, Winny?" he said rather wistfully, half fearing that even now, he might be balked of his reading.

Letty set the loaf and dripping down on the table, and went to a shelf in the corner and brought a lamp to the table.

"Oh, yes, there is some oil in it," said her sister as she held it up to look at it. "Mother told me last night when she put it out that there was a nice drop left in it."

Ninny was always the family remembrancer in these small household economies, for a lamp could not be burned wastefully, and so a careful record was kept as to how long a lamp had been burning. After a little discussion, it was decided that it would be best to have tea by firelight only, and light the lamp for father as soon as he had washed himself.

This was done down in the little back yard, and when it was over, the lamp was lighted, and he sat down to the perusal of his paper.

It was a rare treat for him to have a whole newspaper for his own reading, and he was soon deeply interested in what he read.

When his wife came in from her day's work, he could hardly wait for her to sit down before he began to talk about the things which had taken his attention in the paper.

"I say, mother, the House of Lords is having an inquiry into the sweating system," he said, speaking quite eagerly.

The poor woman was very tired, and did not feel much interest in what her husband was talking about, but she said with a little show of interest, "What do you mean, Tom?"

"Mean! Well, you'd know if you worked in the docks, where the foreman does nothing for his money but hunt us along, yelling, 'Shove up there, shove up!' And make twenty of us do the work of sixty, of course getting the other forty men's money for himself besides his own wages."

"Why, how's that managed, father?" asked Winny quickly.

While Mrs. Chaplin forgot her weariness as she said, "Tell us what you mean, Tom,—what this sweating is."

"Well, look here, this is how we men get served—for we have it at the docks as bad as anywhere. We'll say a ship comes in to-morrow morning, a tea ship perhaps. The labour-master goes and looks at her, and says to the foreman, 'You'll want sixty for that job.'

"'All right,' says Mr. Foreman, and at eight o'clock, he comes to the dock gates and picks out the strongest-looking chaps he can find among us-forty or fifty, perhaps. He takes 'em to the ship, and sets them to work till half-past ten. And then if they are fagged, and he don't think they'll be able to keep up the pace he wants them to work at, he pays them off for two hours' work, and then goes to the gates for another batch—sixty this time, most likely, because at eleven o'clock the labour-master will be round to see how they are getting on, and to see that the number of workers are all right.

"The foreman don't do much in the way of hard work himself; he has enough to do to look after his gang of labourers, for they'd shirk their work if they could—if they wasn't looked after. Treat a man like a dog and you'll only get dog's work out of him. The chap that knows he's just hired for a couple of hours, and will be put off the job then, ain't going to take the interest in his work that he ought. Mind, I ain't saying he ought not, for I know well enough that if a man puts heart into his work, it's a deal better than just brute strength only; and that's why so many of us grumble at the way things are managed at the docks. I tell you it's bad for foremen and labourers too, though the foremen don't mind so much, as they make money by it. See how Rutter has got on since he's been foreman," added Chaplin with some bitterness.

"But how is it they can manage it? I don't understand," interrupted Winny in an eager tone.

"Well, my girl, it's this way. The foreman is paid by contract. The ship comes in, and they find out how much cargo there is in the hold to be got out, and the labour-master can tell to an hour or so how long it will take sixty or twenty men to get it out, and he says this job will be so much, five or ten pounds as the case may be, and the foreman has to pay the labourers out of this contract price. Well, if he can make forty or fifty men do the work of fifty or sixty by keeping them at a breakneck pace all the time, and working men only for about an hour, or two hours while they are fresh, he makes so much more for himself, for, of course, the contract price is calculated as though he had to pay the sixty men, instead of the twenty he has made do the work. Now do you understand, my little woman?" added her father.

The words were not much in themselves, but the tone in which they were spoken made his wife look at him in a little surprise and alarm; for he was usually a silent man, at least about his work.

"You never told me this before," she said. "How is it you are so hot about it now?"

"It was hard work to keep from being hot before, but, don't you see, I might have said something about it and spoiled my chance of a job; but now everybody is talking the thing over, for we've had some chaps down at the dock gates, and they've found out that over and above what I've told you, the merchants and shippers pay eightpence an hour for our work, but we only get fivepence, and we've borne this sort of thing long enough."

His wife looked still more alarmed, for there was a ring of determination in her husband's tone, and she knew by past experience that the knitted brow and fierce look with which he banged the table indicated something unusual, and she was half afraid of what he might do next. But after looking at his wife for a minute, he turned to his paper again.

"They say here that it is a shame for poor tailors and nailmakers to be sweated. So if it is a shame for them, isn't it a shame for us?" he demanded.

"But look here, Tom. I've heard you say that dockers were just the poorest of all labourers; that you'd never stop at it if you could get back to your own trade." Mrs. Chaplin spoke in some perplexity, for she did not understand her husband being so moved about the low wages, for he had often said that there were so many more labourers than could find work, that they must expect wages to be low.

"That's true enough, but still I say that we could do with fewer foremen, or with an over-looker who should share our work and only have his fair share of the wages. Then, don't you see, I could earn sixpence where I only get fivepence now, and when the job was over, and things came to be totted up, I might get a penny or two more that goes into a man's pocket now who don't do the work. Don't you see this too, Martha, we should have the men steadier, and taking more pains with the work, for they would have an interest in it which they can't have now they are hunted like dogs. I begin to see from reading here about what has been going on in the House of Lords, that we ought to have things altered a bit as well as the tailors and chain-makers. The chap that comes round sometimes to the gates when we are waiting for a job has been telling us the same thing, but I only laughed at him, and so did the rest before. I shall tell 'em to-morrow, though, he's worth listening to; and it might be he could give us a hint how to get things altered."

"Things seem to get worse and worse," said his wife with a sigh. "I had a good bit extra washing to-day, and I thought for sure Mrs. Rutter would give me a penny or two more; but no, she just give me the bare eighteen pence, and I was afraid to say a word for fear she should tell me she could get somebody else to do the work for less money."

"That's just how it is with us poor dockers, and so there seems no help for us at all."

"Don't say that, Daddy," put in Winny quickly. "Who can tell but somebody may inquire into the docker's wages as well as the tailor's."

"If my head don't ache till that happens, it won't trouble me as it has done," said her father.

"It's the rent I'm thinking about," said Mrs. Chaplin, taking the two silver coins out of the corner of the handkerchief where they were tied and looking at them.

One shilling and sixpence was all they possessed in the world, and this was Thursday night. As sure as Monday came, the landlord would arrive at ten o'clock for the rent, and if the three shillings was not ready, they would be served with a notice to quit; and to be turned from this room would mean that they must sink a stage lower in the social scale. They would have to go where rents were less, and their comfort and respectability would be seriously impaired, and no one knew how much this was to Mrs. Chaplin.

That she had seen better days gave her a certain standing with her neighbours that was as precious as a patent of nobility to the wealthy, and to go to a street where this would count for little or nothing in the eyes of its rougher inhabitants, was more than the poor woman could contemplate calmly. She had buoyed herself up with the hope all day that her husband would make something like two shillings, then they could lay this aside and yet have sufficient to get what was necessary for the replenishing of the cupboard.

To her over-anxious mind, it seemed unfeeling that her husband could be interested in anything he might read in the newspaper, and forget the rent that must be provided somehow before next Monday.

That there could be any connection between the two, she quite failed to see in her narrower vision, and thinking over this as she looked at the shilling and sixpence on the table, she at length burst into tears, to Letty's great consternation.

"Mother, mother, don't cry!" exclaimed Winny, trying to stretch out her arms so as to be able to reach her. "Mother dear, you forget that God knows all about how bad things are just now, and can send us the rent ready for next Monday, though it is Thursday night and we haven't got much towards it."

"We haven't anything," sobbed the poor woman. "We shall want all this money for bread and tea and a bit of dinner to-morrow."

Winny was silent for a minute or two, but at last she said: "Letty might get some soup at the mission-hall for a penny a pint, and that would be cheaper than anything else for dinner."

"And I can get my dinner what I want at the food truck outside the dock gates for a penny," remarked her husband.

Poor Mrs. Chaplin winced. She had been thinking a good deal to-day of their past comfort and respectability, and to her it seemed like charity to take advantage of these cheap food depots, and her tears flowed afresh at the thought. Still, if the shilling was to be put away for the rent, it was the only thing they could do with the sixpence, for upon no other plan could they hope to get sufficient for them all to have two meals within twenty-four hours.

It was some comfort to her to think that there was something dropped into the rent-box that stood in the corner drawer, and so she wiped away her tears and began to prepare for going to bed.

This was an elaborate process, for the bed had to be let down out of what looked like a wardrobe cupboard during the day, but now disclosed bed-clothes, beds, and pillows, to say nothing of a long curtain that was rolled together at the top, and when let down formed a partition between the two beds, the girls' being made up at the other end of the room.

There was not much room to move about when the two beds were got into working order for the night, but then nobody wanted to do more than creep into bed.

When they were ready, Chaplin lifted Winny from her couch to the opposite side of the room and Letty helped her take off her clothes, and very soon three out of the four were sound asleep.

But for Winny there was very little rest that night. Her father had set her thinking in a fashion that was not pleasant. How could it be that poor men like her father should not be able to put, as he said, his heart into his work, and do it, as she knew God would have all work done, intelligently and heartily. This was certainly the way he would have all men work, and for things to be managed so that men could not or would not do this, was to degrade them to the level of beasts of burden, and certainly ought to be altered somehow.

Surely if these men who could earn so much more money than her poor father only knew how hard things were for them sometimes, they would be willing to make some change. For such ways of dealing with men as those which her father had spoken of were harsh and unrighteous, and God hated all unrighteousness, and had sent his Son to redeem men from it. Therefore it was only right that those who were committing the wrong should be told of it for love's sake, and not merely for the sake of the poor labourers.

It gave her something to think about and something to pray over. And very earnestly did the girl pray that night, that somehow God would show men what to do, so that this might be altered for the sake of the workers, and also for the sake of those who were so anxious that they might heap up riches and comforts for themselves at all costs.

How her prayer was to be answered Winny did not think, or even try to conjecture. God would show them that he could find out the way, and lead all his servants to judge righteously in this matter.

With this thought in her mind, she at last went to sleep, and did not wake until her father had gone out to look for work as usual.