LITMIR.BIZ

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finally, with a start, she woke.

      The darkness had given way to a cold, grey dawn, her uncovered legs were chilled to the bone, and by her side she heard again the regular, nasal breathing of the drunkard.

      For a long while she lay where she was, feeling very sick and ill, but better than in the night. At last her mother woke.

      'Liza!' she called.

      'Yus, mother,' she answered feebly.

      'Git us a cup of tea, will yer?'

      'I can't, mother, I'm ill.'

      'Garn!' said Mrs. Kemp, in surprise. Then looking at her: 'Swop me bob, wot's up with yer? Why, yer cheeks is flushed, an' yer forehead—it is 'ot! Wot's the matter with yer, gal?'

      'I dunno,' said Liza. 'I've been thet bad all night, I thought I was goin' ter die.'

      'I know wot it is,' said Mrs. Kemp, shaking her head; 'the fact is, you ain't used ter drinkin', an' of course it's upset yer. Now me, why I'm as fresh as a disy. Tike my word, there ain't no good in teetotalism; it finds yer aht in the end, an' it's found you aht.'

      Mrs. Kemp considered it a judgment of Providence. She got up and mixed some whisky and water.

      ''Ere, drink this,' she said. 'When one's 'ad a drop too much at night, there's nothin' like havin' a drop more in the mornin' ter put one right. It just acts like magic.'

      'Tike it awy,' said Liza, turning from it in disgust; 'the smell of it gives me the sick. I'll never touch spirits again.'

      'Ah, thet's wot we all says sometime in our lives, but we does, an' wot's more we can't do withaht it. Why, me, the 'ard life I've 'ad—' It is unnecessary to repeat Mrs. Kemp's repetitions.

      Liza did not get up all day. Tom came to inquire after her, and was told she was very ill. Liza plaintively asked whether anyone else had been, and sighed a little when her mother answered no. But she felt too ill to think much or trouble much about anything. The fever came again as the day wore on, and the pains in her head grew worse. Her mother came to bed, and quickly went off to sleep, leaving Liza to bear her agony alone. She began to have frightful pains all over her, and she held her breath to prevent herself from crying out and waking her mother. She clutched the sheets in her agony, and at last, about six o'clock in the morning, she could bear it no longer, and in the anguish of labour screamed out, and woke her mother.

      Mrs. Kemp was frightened out of her wits. Going upstairs she woke the woman who lived on the floor above her. Without hesitating, the good lady put on a skirt and came down.

      'She's 'ad a miss,' she said, after looking at Liza. 'Is there anyone you could send to the 'orspital?'

      'Na, I dunno 'oo I could get at this hour?'

      'Well, I'll git my old man ter go.'

      She called her husband, and sent him off. She was a stout, middle-aged woman, rough-visaged and strong-armed. Her name was Mrs. Hodges.

      'It's lucky you came ter me,' she said, when she had settled down. 'I go aht nursin', yer know, so I know all abaht it.'

      'Well, you surprise me,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'I didn't know as Liza was thet way. She never told me nothin' abaht it.'

      'D'yer know 'oo it is 'as done it?'

      'Now you ask me somethin' I don't know,' replied Mrs. Kemp. 'But now I come ter think of it, it must be thet there Tom. 'E's been keepin' company with Liza. 'E's a single man, so they'll be able ter get married—thet's somethin'.'

      'It ain't Tom,' feebly said Liza.

      'Not 'im; 'oo is it, then?'

      Liza did not answer.

      'Eh?' repeated the mother, ''oo is it?'

      Liza lay still without speaking.

      'Never mind, Mrs. Kemp,' said Mrs. Hodges, 'don't worry 'er now; you'll be able ter find aht all abaht it when she gits better.'

      For a while the two women sat still, waiting the doctor's coming, and Liza lay gazing vacantly at the wall, panting for breath. Sometimes Jim crossed her mind, and she opened her mouth to call for him, but in her despair she restrained herself.

      The doctor came.

      'D'you think she's bad, doctor?' asked Mrs. Hodges.

      'I'm afraid she is rather,' he answered. 'I'll come in again this evening.'

      'Oh, doctor,' said Mrs. Kemp, as he was going, 'could yer give me somethin' for my rheumatics? I'm a martyr to rheumatism, an' these cold days I 'ardly knows wot ter do with myself. An', doctor, could you let me 'ave some beef-tea? My 'usbind's dead, an' of course I can't do no work with my daughter ill like this, an' we're very short—'

      The day passed, and in the evening Mrs. Hodges, who had been attending to her own domestic duties, came downstairs again. Mrs. Kemp was on the bed sleeping.

      'I was just 'avin' a little nap,' she said to Mrs. Hodges, on waking.

      ''Ow is the girl?' asked that lady.

      'Oh,' answered Mrs. Kemp, 'my rheumatics 'as been thet bad I really 'aven't known wot ter do with myself, an' now Liza can't rub me I'm worse than ever. It is unfortunate thet she should get ill just now when I want so much attendin' ter myself, but there, it's just my luck!'

      Mrs. Hodges went over and looked at Liza; she was lying just as when she left in the morning, her cheeks flushed, her mouth open for breath, and tiny beads of sweat stood on her forehead.

      ''Ow are yer, ducky?' asked Mrs. Hodges; but Liza did not answer.

      'It's my belief she's unconscious,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'I've been askin' 'er 'oo it was as done it, but she don't seem to 'ear wot I say. It's been a great shock ter me, Mrs. 'Odges.'

      'I believe you,' replied that lady, sympathetically.

      'Well, when you come in and said wot it was, yer might 'ave knocked me dahn with a feather. I knew no more than the dead wot 'ad 'appened.'

      'I saw at once wot it was,' said Mrs. Hodges, nodding her head.

      'Yus, of course, you knew. I expect you've 'ad a great deal of practice one way an' another.'

      'You're right, Mrs. Kemp, you're right. I've been on the job now for nearly twenty years, an' if I don't know somethin' abaht it I ought.'

      'D'yer finds it pays well?'

      'Well, Mrs. Kemp, tike it all in all, I ain't got no grounds for complaint. I'm in the 'abit of askin' five shillings, an' I will say this, I don't think it's too much for wot I do.'

      The news of Liza's illness had quickly spread, and more than once in the course of the day a neighbour had come to ask after her. There was a knock at the door now, and Mrs. Hodges opened it. Tom stood on the threshold asking to come in.

      'Yus, you can come,' said Mrs. Kemp.

      He advanced on tiptoe, so as to make no noise, and for a while stood silently looking at Liza. Mrs. Hodges was by his side.

      'Can I speak to 'er?' he whispered.

      'She can't 'ear you.'

      He groaned.

      'D'yer think she'll get arright?' he asked.

      Mrs. Hodges shrugged her shoulders.

      'I shouldn't like ter give an opinion,' she said, cautiously.

      Tom bent over Liza, and, blushing, kissed her; then, without speaking further, went out of the room.

      'Thet's the young man as was courtin' 'er,' said Mrs. Kemp, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb.

      Soon after the Doctor came.

      'Wot do yer think of 'er, doctor?' said Mrs. Hodges, bustling forwards authoritatively in her position of midwife and sick-nurse.

      'I'm afraid she's very bad.'

      'D'yer think she's goin'

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