Chapter 25

A CRUEL WOMAN

"Jus' say your meanin', my pretty queen," said Mrs. Tawsey, as she stood at the sitting-room door, and watched Sylvia reading an ill-written letter. "It's twelve now, and I kin be back by five, arter a long, and enjiable tork with Matilder."

"You certainly must go," replied Sylvia, handing back the letter. "I am sure your sister will be glad to see you, Debby."

Deborah sniffed and scratched her elbow. "Relatives ain't friends in our family," she said, shaking her head, "whatever you may say, my deary-sweet. Father knocked mother int' lunatics arter she'd nagged 'im to drunk an' police-cells. Three brothers I 'ad, and all of 'em that 'andy with their fistises as they couldn't a-bear to live in 'armony without black eyes and swolled bumps all over them. As to Matilder, she an' me never did, what you might call, hit it orf, by reason of 'er not givin' way to me, as she should ha' done, me bein' the youngest and what you might call the baby of the lot. We ain't seen each other fur years, and the meetin' will be cold. She'll not have much forgiveness fur me bein' a bride, when she's but a lone cross-patch, drat her."

"Don't quarrel with her, Debby. She has written you a very nice letter, asking you to go down to Mrs. Krill's house in Kensington, and she really wants to see you before she goes back to Christchurch to-night."

"Well, I'll go," said Deborah, suddenly; "but I don't like leavin' you all by your own very self, my sunflower."

"I'll be all right, Debby. Paul comes at four o'clock, and you'll be back at five."

"Sooner, if me an' Matilder don't hit if orf, or if we hit each other, which, knowin' 'er 'abits, I do expects. But Bart's out till six, and there won't be anyone to look arter them as washes--four of 'em," added Mrs. Tawsey, rubbing her nose, "and as idle as porkpines."

"Mrs. Purr can look after them."

"Look arter gin more like," said Deborah, contemptuously. "She's allays suckin', sly-like, tryin' to purtend as it's water, as if the smell didn't give it away, whatever the color may be. An' here she is, idling as usual. An' may I arsk, Mrs. Purr ma'am," demanded Deborah with great politeness, "wot I pays you fur in the way of ironin'?"

But Mrs. Purr was too excited to reply. She brushed past her indignant mistress and faced Sylvia, waving a dirty piece of paper. "Lor', miss," she almost screamed, "you do say as you want t'know where that limb Tray 'ave got to--"

"Yes--yes," said Sylvia, rising, "he escaped from Mr. Hurd, and we want to find him very much."

"It's a letter from 'im," said Mrs. Purr, thrusting the paper into Sylvia's hand; "tho' 'ow he writes, not 'avin' bin to a board school, I dunno. He's in a ken at Lambith, and ill at that. Want's me t'go an' see 'im. But I can't leave the ironin'."

"Yuss y' can," said Deborah, suddenly; "this erringd is ness'ary, Mrs. Purr ma'am, so jes' put on your bunnet, an' go to Mr. Hurd as 'as 'is orfice at Scotlan' Yard, and take 'im with you."

"Oh! but I couldn't--"

"You go," advised Mrs. Tawsey. "There's five pounds offered for the brat's bein' found."

"Five pun!" gasped Mrs. Purr, trembling. "Lor', and me 'avin' a chanct of gittin' it. I'll go--I'll go. I knows the Yard, 'avin' 'ad summat to do with them dirty perlice in my time. Miss Sylvia--"

"Yes, go, Mrs. Purr, and see Mr. Hurd. He'll give you the five pounds if you take him to Tray." Sylvia handed back the paper. "Tray seems to be ill."

"Ill or well, he sha'n't lose me five pun, if I 'ave to drag 'im to the lock-up m'self," said Mrs. Purr, resolutely. "Where's my bunnet--my shawl--oh lor'--five pun! Them is as good allays gits rewards," and she hurried out, hardly able to walk for excitement.

"There's a nice ole party fur you, Miss Sylvia?"

"Debby," said the girl, thoughtfully. "You take her to the Yard to see Mr. Hurd, and then go to Kensington to speak with your sister."

"Well, I'll go, as importance it is," said Mrs. Tawsey, rubbing her nose harder than ever. "But I 'opes you won't be lone, my poppet-dovey."

"Oh, no," said Sylvia, kissing her, and pushing her towards the door. "I'll look after those four women in the wash-house, and read this new