THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 UR. & URS. FRANK H. DEARXNO
 
 Twinkletoes
 
 Tw triplet oes 
 
 A Tale of Limehouse 
 
 By 
 
 Thomas Burke 
 
 Author of ''Limehouse Nights,'' "London Lamps, ^^ etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 ROBERT M. McBRlDE & COMPANY 
 
 1918
 
 Copyright, 1918 
 Robert M. McBride & Company 
 
 Published igi8
 
 To 
 
 Cranstoun Metcalfe 
 
 7G2iJ|.8
 
 MONICA MINASI was named Twin- 
 kletoes by the teacher at the Council 
 School which she attended in her 
 early'' jTars ; and you had but to glance at 
 her tempestuous limbs to realize that no 
 other naiiif. beV)rged to her. 
 
 When she arrived in Shantung Place, 
 Poplar, she had a mother and a father. But 
 within a week she had other friends. Mother 
 at first didn't like her to play in the streets 
 as other children did. She said it would 
 make her grow up rough, and run in the 
 gutters, and tear her clothes; and that no- 
 body respected a mother who allowed her 
 children to run in the gutters. But there 
 were nice differences in Shantung Place; it 
 was easy to find a sympathetic set; and 
 when Twinkletoes told her mother how nicely 
 the Matchkey boys and girls behaved, she 
 was allowed to play in the street after school, 
 so long as she didn't run in the gutter, and 
 
 came in before dark. 
 
 7
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 You see, Twinkletoes hadn't got a garden, 
 because she and Mum and Dad lived in one 
 room. Dad worked all day as a sign-writer, 
 but only Twinkletoes seemed to recognize 
 what a wonderful sign-writer he v/as, be- 
 cause, however hard he worked, he never got 
 much money. And he wanted money; he 
 often told Mum so; not for himself, but in 
 order to give Twinkletoes a good show ; for, 
 as he often said, "If a kid — girl especially — 
 don't get a good send-off these days, she 
 don't never get nowhere." 
 
 Still Twinkletoes was happy. Living in 
 one room does not necessarily imply living 
 in a piggery, a miserable corner of a miser- 
 able garret, all dirt and disorder. It all 
 depends on the manager. Miun knew all 
 the tricks. That one room was not a pig- 
 gery; no, a snuggery. For a long time 
 Twinkletoes thought it diplomatic to hide 
 the horrid truth, fearing, from what she had 
 overheard between Mum and Dad, that it 
 carried some kuid of social outlawry. But 
 
 8
 
 'Twinklefoes 
 
 she let it out gradually to the Matchkey 
 boys and girls, and when Mum said they 
 might come to tea, and when they said 
 they didn't care whether it was one room 
 or Windsor Castle, Twinkletoes touched 
 heaven. 
 
 The elder Matchkey boy adored her. Her 
 peach-soft face; her nineteen golden curls; 
 her eyes like flowers that made a resting- 
 place for a thousand expressive butterflies; 
 her epigrammatic legs in their darned stock- 
 ings; her black silk coat and the flaming 
 vermilion tam-o'-shanter and the glory that 
 dances about a girl when she is twelve; all 
 thrilled the JMatchkey boy as he waited at 
 the gate of the boys' playground at the 
 Council School to see her turn the corner. 
 
 At dinner-time they would walk home 
 together, turning down side streets to see 
 if Twinkletoes' Dad was working; and when 
 they saw a brown ladder outside a shop 
 they knew that Dad was atop of it, with his 
 palette and his knife and his brush, creating 
 
 9
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 wonderful golden words, like: 
 
 The Hope and Anchor 
 Free House 
 or 
 
 The King's Head 
 Charrington & Go's Entire 
 or 
 
 Good Pull Up for Carmen 
 No Connection with the House Opposite 
 
 And Dad, a little wiry elf like man, 
 would look down at them, and spit, very 
 carefully out of their way, and say: 
 
 "Well, old Cockalorum, 'ow's she going?" 
 And Twinkletoes would look up, and say: 
 
 "Ain't my Dad wonderful? Ain't he 
 the cleverest man in the world?" 
 
 At one o'clock Dad would descend, wipe 
 his hands on the seat of his trousers, and 
 breathe, "Ah!" heavily. "Some day," he 
 would say, "we're going to make money. 
 Young Twinks here 'as got to 'ave a piano, 
 
 10
 
 Twinkletoes 
 
 some'ow. She's got a knack for it. Trouble 
 about one room is, you can't get a piano in, 
 even if you can afford one. She 'as to go 
 round to Auntie AHce's to practice now. 
 But, never mind, we'll wangle it 'fore long. 
 We'll 'ave a piano, and a room to put it in, 
 not 'alf we won't. Come on, shavers!" 
 
 "Ain't my Dad wonderful?" 
 
 The ]\Iatchkey children agreed that he 
 was, chiefly because, producing little else 
 of value, he had yet produced Twinkletoes, 
 his "old Cockalorum." It was Twinkletoes 
 who had played pianoforte solos at the 
 breaking-up entertainment at the Council 
 School, when the more socially comfortable 
 Matchkeys had listened to glittering pieces 
 of Italian opera, which, to her, were the 
 loveliest music in the world. They were 
 amazed and faint with adoration as they 
 watched those tiny hands fetching clusters 
 of colored unnameable dreams from that 
 magic thing which was a piano. Other 
 children, too, of the Poplar district, were 
 
 11
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 on that night as the shepherds when the 
 heavenly hosts brought to them a message. 
 "Ain't she a dam queer kid?" chuckled 
 Dad Minasi to the elder Matchkey. "She's 
 going to be something 'fore she finishes, I 
 know. T'other day, f'rinstance, she come 
 running in — I was shaving meself at the 
 time, at the table, and nearly cut meself — 
 I didn't 'alf swear — and out she comes with : 
 'Dad, I've found out 'ow people 'ave babies !' 
 Think of it — a kid like 'er. I don't suppose 
 you know that — eh?" The Matchkey boy 
 blushed, and looked awfully surprised. "But 
 I soon shut her up. 'Well,' I says, 'if you 
 'ave, you needn't do a song and dance about 
 it. You aint the only one that knows!' I 
 says. Just like that. Soon shut 'er up. But 
 she's a fair corker, she is. All the time. 
 She'll be something 'ot when she's a bit older, 
 I give yeh my word! Only," he said impres- 
 sively to Matchkey, who gravely responded 
 to the confidence, "what you want nowadays 
 is Influence. Influence. Or Money. Can't 
 
 12
 
 'Twinkletoes 
 
 do nothing without one or other of 'em. 
 Otherwise yeh don't get a chance, sonny. 
 I might 'a' been something if I'd 'ad In- 
 fluence. Or Money. Well, I can't get no 
 influence nowhere, so I've got to get money. 
 Give 'er 'er chance, like. See? She'll be 
 something, you take it from me. Can't tell 
 yeh what. And I don't care much, s 'long's 
 she's 'appy. . . . Coming along to tea to- 
 morrow, ain't yeh? Good. You'll 'ave to 
 take pot-luck, y'know. Can't do things in 
 much of a lah-di-dah way in one room, 
 y'know. But any friends of Twinks is wel- 
 come. Toodle-oo, sonny." 
 
 Living in one room is a preparation for all 
 the highest comforts and deepest struggles 
 of life. Only a genius can make happiness 
 from such rough stuff. And Mum, aided 
 and abetted by Twinkletoes, created happi- 
 ness for the three of them. They were happy 
 in the heroic makeshifts that were impera- 
 tive, and in the gentle content that grew 
 up around them like the nasturtiums that 
 
 13
 
 T^wi?2kletoes 
 
 grew in the box on the window-sill under 
 Twinkletoes' careful hands. The nastur- 
 tiums flourished because there was the sun- 
 shine of Shantung Place to warm them and 
 the water which Twinkletoes carried up two 
 flights of stairs to refresh them. Domestic 
 happiness flourished likewise. 
 
 Mum allowed the company to make toast 
 for Twinkletoes' first tea-party, and the 
 guests sat round the fire with their hostess, 
 and told their little life-stories and their 
 ambitions. One desired to be a bank 
 manager, because it was nice, clean work. 
 One said he would paint pictures, and 
 the company yelled derisively. Somebody 
 wanted to do something with engines. But 
 when Twinkletoes was asked what she was 
 going to be she replied patly and firmly: 
 "Going to be a dancer." 
 
 Nobody laughed; for even the children 
 felt that the fairies had decided for her. A 
 star must have danced when she was born. 
 
 They sat staring into the fire after tea, 
 
 14
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 and as they stared into the glowing, hissing 
 mass (for Twinkletoes, with unchallenge- 
 able aplomb, had picked up and carried home 
 some wood blocks from East India Dock 
 Road, where repairs were proceeding) , they 
 dreamed their separate dreams. Wonder- 
 ful visions were given them. 
 
 They saw bright roads along which they 
 should travel. They saw great enterprises 
 and successes, and the external trappings 
 that, to the minds of Shantung Place, spelt 
 glory. They all wanted to get on. They 
 wanted to have houses of their own and a 
 garden. They wanted clean collars every 
 da5^ They wanted to go out to "late 
 dinner," as "gentlefolks" in the West did. 
 They wanted to go to theatres — oh, theatres 
 every night for Twinkletoes — and to book 
 their seats instead of waiting outside gallery 
 doors, as they did once a year for the local 
 pantomime at the Quayside. The boys were 
 going to have silk hats and white waistcoats 
 and frock coats for Sundays, and the girls 
 
 15
 
 Hwinkletoes 
 
 were going to have all the silken frillies that 
 "ladies' children" had; and if they got on 
 wonderfully well they might ride in hansom 
 cabs sometimes; perhaps they could even 
 keep a servant. 
 
 All those things they saw, and some of the 
 company have attained their desire. But 
 they did not see, and it was a kindly veil that 
 hid from them, the road that Twinkletoes 
 was to travel. 
 
 In those days they were too young prop- 
 erly to know her. She was gracefully old 
 beyond her years. Angel and elf she was, 
 and human, too; so human that she gave to 
 all things and to all men love, after the 
 ecstatic worship reserved for Dad. She 
 never grumbled when times were bad. She 
 laughed when there was no coal in the 
 scuttle; she chirruped when there was no 
 Sunday dinner; and sat instead on Dad's 
 knee, and made him talk of his forlorn past. 
 She forgave all offences, and brought divine 
 merriment to those one-room feastings and 
 
 16
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 escapades. She found everything good, and 
 her motto for all seasons and occasions, 
 gurgled deliciously, with not very clean 
 hands clasped to a pinaf ored bosom, was : 
 "Ooh! Ain't people and things Lovely T 
 But those days passed, and with them her 
 circle of friends. Parents "got on," and 
 moved from Poplar to stately suburbs, tak- 
 ing the youngsters and the secret glory that 
 should never be recaptured. 
 
 When Twinkletoes was twelve, and the 
 JNIatchkey circle was broken into bits that 
 scattered themselves along North and South 
 London, Mum died. Dad, in a now-or-never 
 mood, mysteriously and decisively threw up 
 the sign-writing and started a die-stamping 
 business, and money began to reach the 
 Minasi household. They moved from one 
 room to a small cottage. Twinkletoes re- 
 ceived long courses in music and dancing, 
 and at fifteen she was leader of a local 
 juvenile dancing troupe, and had forgotten 
 the comrades of her early days. She was a 
 
 17
 
 'Twinkletoes 
 
 woman now, and had begun to make new 
 friends. 
 
 Dad had kept his word. They had got 
 that piano, and the room to put it in. 
 Twinkletoes had had her chance, had taken 
 it, and, in a small way, had arrived. 
 
 "Can't think where she gets it all from," 
 Dad would say, when discussing her success 
 with his friends. "Every time I look at 
 'er I feel fair knocked over — flabbergasted, 
 like — to think that I did it. Or me and the 
 missus between us. Never thought, that 
 night, that I'd get a kid like this. Wonder 
 'ow we did it? Must 'ave gorn upstairs 
 backwards, or something." 
 
 18
 
 II 
 
 IN CHINATOWN lurks the Blue Lan- 
 tern, a tavern that was once the haunt 
 of good and gay Bohemians, but is now 
 only used by artists and poets seeking 
 atmosphere. 
 
 On a grey evening between seasons, in its 
 grand days. Chuck Lightfoot, ex-manager 
 to Battling Burrows, the Poplar Terror, 
 cuddled the counter of its four-ale bar and 
 discoursed to his companion, Hank Hogan, 
 on certain things good to be known concern- 
 ing life and its mysteries. Chuck was 
 haunted by a grief, and was trying vainly to 
 drown it. Gin and coke and chandoo may 
 bless many a bruise, and wipe out many a 
 stain upon the heart of man, but there are 
 some wounds which neither material drugs 
 nor the balm of time can heal. Many beers 
 cannot quench them; neither can the white 
 stuff drown them. Chuck had worked over 
 his with beer, li-un, whisky and powder; yet 
 was it as lively as ever. It throbbed and 
 burned. It racked him. It bled. 
 
 19
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 All Poplar knew of his grief, and fellows 
 in the bar would nod and nudge and say: 
 "Old Chuck's on it again. Silly devil. 'E'll 
 get what's comin' to 'iin, right enough." 
 
 The trouble Avas first marked when he 
 ceased to call at the Galloping Horses for a 
 half-pint, of an evening, and took to loung- 
 ing in the Blue Lantern, swigging pints of 
 the Old. 
 
 This evening he put down six in as many 
 minutes; then smashed his pewter on the 
 bar and called for more. 
 
 "Enough to make a chap go on the bat," 
 he explained to Hank, "what I bin through 
 the last month or two . . ." 
 
 "Ar," said Hank, a little fellow with a 
 deprecating manner and a deceptive face of 
 bovine stupidity crowned with explosive red 
 hair. 
 
 "I should say so." And Chuck took his 
 tankard, and gulped largely, as though 
 swallowing something more potent and sub- 
 stantial than the Lantern's Old. 
 
 20
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 "I bin in 'ell," he stated, in a voice that 
 succeeded in being anguished without being 
 absurd. " 'Ell. Nothing less." 
 
 "Ar," said Hank. 
 
 The lights of Chinatown across the way 
 stammered through the dusk. Songs and 
 smokes curled from the Quarter. Strange 
 kisses and embraces hung on eveiy breath 
 of air, and in that evening hour pale arms 
 seemed to invite to remote, forbidden beau- 
 ties. Against these forces, the frankly 
 lighted electric cars, tearing towards Aid- 
 gate, joined in level combat. 
 
 Chuck finished his eighth, let the dregs 
 slip slackly to the floor, and shook a hammer- 
 like arm at nothing. "Christ almighty! 
 Blast everything." 
 
 "Oh, I dunno," said Hank, between swigs. 
 "Why everything? Seems to me . . ." 
 
 "What th'ell d'you know about it?" 
 
 "Well, I thought . . ." 
 "Huh." Chuck flung away from him 
 and came swiftly back. He spread disdain- 
 
 21
 
 twinkle toes 
 
 ful hands. He tapped Hank on the chest. 
 "What'd you say 'f you 'eard of a chap of 
 twenty-nine in love with a girl of fourteen?" 
 
 "I'd say same as everyone. I'd say it was 
 all blasted rot. I'd say 'e was barmy. Or 
 a dirty beast. Orf 'is rocker. Nobody else'd 
 wanter love a kid." 
 
 "Oh." Chuck sucked a Woodbine. "That's 
 what you think. I thought it's what you 
 would think," he said, after lifting and 
 setting down an empty pewter. "Shows 'ow 
 blasted much you know about it. Why 
 can't a man fall in love with a girl in short 
 frocks and still be all right? Tell me that, 
 old son. Why can't 'e ? Eh ?" 
 
 "Why, because 'e . . ." Hank sought 
 for explanations. In his plain mind the 
 answer was fairly obvious; yet when he came 
 to make it he realised that it could not be 
 made. He was right, he knew. But what 
 was the reason? "Why, 'cos 'e . . . 'cos 
 she ... I mean, anyone can see that it 
 ain't — that 'e can't. There ain't nothing in 
 
 22
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 it. Course 'e wouldn't," he jerked, in the 
 futile anger of a man who is asked to prove 
 conclusively that white is white. 
 
 "Well, yer wrong," said Chuck huskily. 
 "Am I barmy?" 
 
 "Not yet. But yeh will be if yeh keep 
 this 'ere game up much longer." He patted 
 the bar with a hairy hand, and his moist eyes 
 became moister with affection. "I'm old 
 enough to be yer father. Chuck. Why don't 
 yeh drink steady, like me? You 'ad a good 
 job what you lorst through this, and I dunno 
 what'll be the end of yeh. I've 'ad my time. 
 This 'ere bar's my waitin'-room, like. But 
 you, lad — fer Christ's sake pull yesself to- 
 gether." 
 
 "No good. If you'd bin through what I'm 
 going through ..." 
 
 "I 'ave, old sport, and I'm still 'ere." 
 
 "I ain't barmy, and I ain't a beast. But 
 I love old Minasi's kid — like I dunno what. 
 For the last two years. Never loved any- 
 thing like this before. Fifteen, she is now 
 
 23
 
 'T'winkletoes 
 
 — nearly sixteen — and me — I'm twenty-nine. 
 And married. But I'd die if I could save 
 that kid the least bit of pain or — do any- 
 thing she wanted done, like. 'Elp 'er in 
 any way. Absolutely." 
 
 Hank stared, convinced that Chuck was 
 very drunk, yet feeling the truth was coming 
 out of the tankard. Chuck caught the look. 
 
 "Oh, I know. I know it's all — kind o' 
 wrong. And yet — oh, I know." He waved 
 inarticulate arms. "Yeh can't tell me noth- 
 ing about the pleading business that I ain't 
 already thought of. I love young Twinkle- 
 toes. There's an end of it. And I can't eat 
 or sleep or do anything. Old bloke — I've 
 woke up in the night, and found meself 
 blubbing." He folded his arms, leant to the 
 bar, and examined his brown-booted feet. 
 "Oh, Christ!" he snai)ped, in such a voice 
 that old Diekery-Dock, the landlord, looked 
 across in some concern. 
 
 "I love 'er. 'Ow she goes about the streets 
 every day and everybody don't fall in love 
 
 24
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 with 'er I dunno. 'Ank — 'ave you seen that 
 little black frock she wears, and the way it 
 crumples up? 'Ave you seen those yellow 
 curls of 'ers? And 'er little brown shoes and 
 stockings? And the way she smiles at yeh? 
 You've seen 'er dance, ain't you, at the 
 Quayside? . . . Gaw. If we could only get 
 away somewhere — just for an hour or two 
 — so's I could be near 'er, alone, and talk to 
 'er. I don't want to touch 'er. She's too — 
 kind of 'oly. You ain't ever loved no one. 
 Else you'd know. Not proper." 
 
 "Oh. Ain't I?" 
 
 "But I can't even take 'er for a tram ride. 
 People 'd talk. Blast their dirty minds. . . . 
 Oh, of course, it's all out o' joint. Nobody 'd 
 understand 'ow I can 'ear 'er voice all day 
 long through everything, and 'ow every- 
 where I look I see 'er face. On the floor ; on 
 the wall; in the sky; even in the bottom of 
 this bloody, dirty tankard. Gimme another, 
 Dickery. She comes to the Works nearly 
 every day, and if she stands near me, or 'er 
 
 25
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 frock touches me, I feel, when she's gorn, 
 like as though she'd wrenched me arm or me 
 ear orf. What'm I going to do?" 
 
 "You bett' go away," said Hank, in the 
 level tones of one perfunctorily offering ad- 
 vice, which he knows will not be accepted. 
 "Betf go away. Knock orf this jag game, 
 and git orf to the Forest, and go in training 
 for a bit. Out at Chingford or Lambourn 
 End. Get the Duke to go wi' yeh, and do 
 some stiff work on the ball." 
 
 "Huh. If this is love, Gawd 'elp anyone 
 in love. I 'ang round 'er 'ouse sometimes, 
 though it 'urts like 'ell. . . . Oh, what's 
 it bin and 'appened to me for? Why me? 
 . . . Drink up and 'ave another. Dickery!" 
 
 "Yer in a rotten state," said Hank; "but 
 there y'are — that's always the way." He 
 drank up and had another, and as his little 
 eyes hovered over the rim of his mug he 
 remarked: "Ar. Talk of the devil. There 
 goes the kid over t'other side. Just caught 
 'er out the corner o' me eye." 
 
 26
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 Chuck shot his drink to the counter, tip- 
 toed, and peered over the ground-glass 
 portion of the Lantern's window. Sailing 
 towards Chinatown was a child as lovelv and 
 as insolently hajjpy as a lyric. Torrents of 
 bright curls foamed about her shoulders, and 
 the black silk frock clung to her young 
 beauty as though it loved her. The mirror- 
 like candour of her face, undimmed by any 
 breath of the world's abominations, reflected 
 nothing but the serene joy of the moment. 
 Remote seemed her glory from that mephitic 
 chaos. Timid as a wraith that may melt at 
 a touch, she seemed too fragile even for 
 childhood; and the mind shrank from the 
 thought that the deflowering hand of man 
 should rest upon this phantom of a dream. 
 
 As Chuck watched her the light of love- 
 madness was in his eyes, and a tense pain 
 was about his lips. He made noises when he 
 noted the glances which the Asiatics turned 
 upon this filigree toy, and the innocently 
 flirtatious smiles with which she responded. 
 
 27
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 More tender of soul than most men, he dared 
 not dream of possessing her; of lacing arms 
 about her; of pressing lip to lip; though 
 every fibre of his being ached for her. 
 
 His eyes fell upon the soft fruit of her 
 face. He strained his ears to catch the sound 
 of her crystal voice, and when he heard her 
 cry, "Suffering Jesus!" as she narrowly es- 
 caped falling over a cat, he longed to answer 
 it. When she disappeared into the Cause- 
 way his hands dropped; he turned away his 
 head, snatched angrily at his mug and drank 
 and drank. 
 
 " 'Ere, 'alf a mo," said Hank suddenly, 
 when a double gin followed the last tankard. 
 "Put the brake on, lad. I ain't a-arguing 
 with yeh; I'm a-telling of yeh!" 
 
 Chuck spluttered wild oaths. The phj'^si- 
 cal nausea that accompanies great grief had 
 gripped him. His fingers clutched nothing. 
 The reek of the sawdust bar swam about 
 his nose. The lights swam about his eyes 
 in conflict with the half-gloom of the streets. 
 
 28
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 He stared solemnly at Hank, and noted, 
 without wonder, that Hank was leaping 
 grotesquely from floor to ceiling. 
 
 "Why can't yeh keep still?" he shouted. 
 Dickery Dock came forward. 
 
 "Push 'im 'ome, 'Ank," he said consider- 
 ately. " 'E's got a skate on." 
 
 "That's me. Alwis comes on me, don't 
 it? Reckon I seen every one of the boys 
 'ome one time or another. Eh?" 
 
 "I dessay. Wonderful what you could 
 give away, 'f yeh started talking, 'Ank. 
 Winter sports — seeing the Lantern boys 
 'ome." He made a snort which served for 
 a chuckle. "Ought to write in the papers, 
 'Ank. Remensensees of the Blue Lantern. 
 By 'Ank." He exploded. "Shove on, 
 sporty. Get 'im away. 'Ere — 'ave one on 
 me — a quick one." 
 
 Hank set Chuck on a wooden bench, swal- 
 lowed the quick one, looped an arm in the 
 lad's and dragged him through the swing- 
 ing door. 
 
 29
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 The swift air from the river smote Chuck's 
 damp face. "I'm awri'. I'll go 'long 'ome, 
 now. Don' you bother." He braced him- 
 self, and set his feet widely apart. The 
 Lascars, parading the streets with their 
 customary, pathetic /air of being lost, glanced 
 curiously at him. He threw Hank's arm 
 away. "Christawmighty," he sobbed. 
 "When's it going to end?" 
 
 Hank turned about with a platitude on his 
 lips. But Chuck was gone. 
 
 Mrs. Lightfoot, to whose quick ears these 
 things had come, had passed her thirtieth 
 year, and, like all women of the district, at 
 that age was old and haggard. She was a 
 large, blonde woman, thin lipped. She had 
 long arms, with cruel, cold hands, and honey- 
 colored hair. Neglected by the well-knit 
 Chuck, she began to be angry before she was 
 sorrowful. She shut herself up at home in 
 bed with halfpenny novelettes and strong 
 tea, and ruminated, while Chuck she knew 
 
 30
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 was going his evil ways and assuaging the 
 eternal grief of things at the Blue Lantern. 
 Once a sweet and mild fellow, as so many 
 l^ugilists are, he had become, under his 
 sorrow, vindictive ; and Cissie knew it. 
 
 It was Cissie who leaned from the window 
 of their cottage and witnessed his blasphe- 
 mous search for his home. 
 
 "Blast 'im. Boozing up over that kid, 
 I s'pose. Curse the filthy little wretch. 
 Damn silly to be jealous of a kid, but . . . 
 Oh, I'll fix her some time. I'll fix her." 
 
 She heard his fumbling feet on the stair. 
 Then his face, now gone flaccid, popped 
 round the doorway. 
 
 "Well, boozey? Seen yer baby sweet- 
 heart?" she cried cruelly. 
 
 "Levant — ^j^ou. Find a street and take a 
 walk." 
 
 "Pitty ickle sing," she sang. "Rock-a- 
 bye-baby — on the ..." 
 
 " 'Nough o' that. Else I'll mark yeh." 
 
 "You do, me lad. It won't pay yeh." 
 
 31
 
 Twinkletoes 
 
 "Cut it. Ain't I 'ad enough 'ell, trying 
 to keep straight through this business 'cos 
 o' you, without 'aving to put up with your 
 cackle ? Stifle it. Else lay an egg an' done 
 with it." He stood over her, grotesquely 
 furious. 
 
 " 'Ow d'you talk to yer baby? Wassums 
 darly-warly going bye-bye all aloney? I 
 s'pose you'd like to go . . ." 
 
 Chuck lurched from the wall, grabbed a 
 glass from the table and flung it. It struck 
 Cissie on the mouth. Blood appeared on her 
 lips. She stood up, swaying in the crowding 
 glooms. She laughed in spasms, without 
 mirth. Chuck moved towards her, his face 
 brutalised, his body tense. She laughed 
 again. 
 
 "Don't like my cackle, don't yeh? Rather 
 I laid an egg? You look out, me lad." Her 
 voice cracked. Nose and chin were joined 
 by uncomely lines. Her hair tumbled. 
 "Else I may lay an egg,"" she screamed, 
 "that'll make you look silly!" 
 
 32
 
 I^winkletoes 
 
 He lurched nearer, but she seized the 
 poker with swift hands and poised it. 
 
 For a few minutes they waited watchfully. 
 Then Chuck made ungainly movements, and 
 found the door. "What a life! Gawd, 
 what a life!" He slithered across the passage 
 to his room. Cissie helped herself to beer, 
 noisily, from a jug. 
 
 33
 
 Ill 
 
 TWINKLETOES, the pocket Venus, 
 the little comrade of all Poplar, 
 flitted, in a cloud of lace and yellow 
 hair, from West India Dock Road to Penny- 
 fields. Her clothes had that touch of dis- 
 orderly smartness which belongs to the 
 clothes of stage children. So lightly did she 
 move that her feet seemed to kiss the pave- 
 ments, those pavements she had loved ever 
 since she had walked. 
 
 The evening noise of Chinatown was on the 
 air ; its acrid tang bit nose and lips. A goods 
 train from the Docks crawled wearily across 
 the Arches. From the river came a voice 
 giving an indecent chantey to a rush of 
 chains and pulley-ropes. Sirens screamed. 
 In a seamen's home faint fingers plucked a 
 melancholy guitar. The brightest and best 
 of the monkeys of the evening paraded the 
 solemn road, brushing shoulders with cat- 
 like Hindoos, jungle-footed Dyaks, and non- 
 descript vagabonds from the Pacific wastes. 
 
 34
 
 liwinkletoes 
 
 The black men looked at none of the women ; 
 they scanned appreciatively every lovely 
 child whose white-socked legs flittered 
 through the blue twilight. 
 
 By day or by dark these streets are 
 scarcely such as one would build one's dreams 
 upon. By day, the impudent sunshine falls 
 upon them, stripping them of their secrets. 
 By night, grey shadows crowd fearfully upon 
 one another. Cold, lean streets turn sharply 
 away, slinking, with malicious eagerness, to 
 nowhere. There are long, faltering streets ; 
 brisk, bold streets; mischievous passages 
 and labyrinthine burrows. There are high 
 blocks of houses, apparently inaccessible, 
 showing humane windows across the roofs of 
 others. 
 
 But to Twinkletoes all was beautiful. 
 Only once was she jarred, when, as she darted 
 through the alleys, there came off the evening 
 breeze a child's scream, a wail of entreaty, 
 and anomalous noises. 
 
 "Suffering Jesus!" she snapped. "Old 
 
 35
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 Mother Adnitt torturing that kid again. She 
 wants pins stuck in 'er." 
 
 She had a low flash-point of temper; was 
 explosively good-natured, explosively com- 
 bative; and cruelty made her sick. It 
 seemed to her so silly that people should dis- 
 turb a beautiful world, twisting into wicked 
 shapes the mind that God made so fairly. 
 She knew how beautiful it could be, and she 
 lived to make it more beautiful still. She 
 danced what she saw, and when she saw 
 cruelty she danced that, so that other people 
 might feel as sick as she did, and, she hoped, 
 stop it. People and things were lovely, and 
 Poplar was lovely, and she hated Mrs. Adnitt 
 for spoiling perfection. 
 
 Turning into a passage leading from 
 ^Mandarin Court, she disapjieared through a 
 furtive doorway. She was in the Works, 
 the old Dad's Works, the die-stamping busi- 
 ness, and her troubles slipped from her. Not 
 once in four years had she missed her daily 
 visit to this little corner of delight. Strangers 
 
 36
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 would have found it dull and squalid and 
 odorous; but there were half-a-dozen people 
 in Poplar to whom it was a centre of vibrant 
 interest. Twinkletoes loved it because it 
 was Dad's; she had a proprietary as well as 
 romantic attachment to it. Everything con- 
 nected with Dad was beautiful. When she 
 thought of him she thought of all that was 
 brave and sweet and strong: of Handel's 
 Largo, or Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, or 
 Schubert's Songs, for, as it was through 
 music that she expressed herself, it was only 
 to music that she could turn for illustration 
 of her emotions. Dad had started these 
 Works, and it was the Works that had pro- 
 vided the means of her education in music 
 and dancing. 
 
 The interest of others had a different basis. 
 JNIen would call there during the day and 
 evening; some splendidly dressed, with just 
 that over-attention to detail that marked 
 them from what they desired to be; others, 
 unclean, in tatters and slops. All entered 
 
 37
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 casually, with an air of "dropping in," to 
 pass the time of day, though, by tactful 
 stages, they descended with Dad to the base- 
 ment, and remained sometimes half-an-hour, 
 sometimes two and three hours. 
 
 Dad would receive them with his usual 
 chuckle and "Wow-wow, me old Cocka- 
 lorum," and would speed them on their way 
 with gushes of laughter and timely persi- 
 flages. But there were intervals, in the 
 basement, of lively seriousness. 
 
 When Twinkletoes entered he was climb- 
 ing the ladder stair from below. He wore 
 trousers and shirt, with sleeves rolled up. 
 His hands were stained with acid, his ex- 
 pression ruminative. But at the sight of 
 Twinkletoes his face split to a joyous grin. 
 
 "Cheerio!" she cried. "Blast these old 
 apples-and-pears of yours — I nearly slipped. 
 Why don't yeh get 'em mended? Well, 
 how's the old pot-and-pan?" 
 
 "I'm all right," he answered. "How's 
 the Gawd-forbid?" 
 
 38
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 "Oh, I'm the Big Noise. Same as usual. 
 No complaints. I'm the live wire, I am. 
 Danger on the line for anyone who touches 
 me without rubber gloves. How's biz?" 
 
 "Coming in good and plenty. 'Ad yer 
 tea?" 
 
 "You bet. And a drop o' Lincoln's Inn 
 with it." 
 
 "Marv'lous kid, ain't you," he chuckled, 
 rumpling her cloak of curls. 
 
 "Well, Roseleaf said I was slack last night 
 in the Autumn dance. So I thought I'd 
 have a snifter to put me on song and get the 
 juice running properly. . . . Well, boys, 
 how is it?" 
 
 The two assistants made non-committal 
 noises. 
 
 "Shall I cook for you? Or ain't you 
 through 3'et?" 
 
 "Oh, we're through. Go ahead, Twinks." 
 
 "Fair leading 'em on, that's what you are, 
 Twinks," said Dad. "Hiking 'em down the 
 broad and gay white road. Look at 'em 
 
 39
 
 Il' winkle toes 
 
 — look at young Perce there — fair wasting 
 away. Look at me — I don't dope, and I 
 could lift 'em both with one hand." 
 
 "Chuck it, Dad," said Twinkletoes. "If 
 it amuses 'em, let 'em 'ave it. We were sent 
 here to be happy, and if it makes 'em happy 
 they've a right to it, so long's it don't hurt 
 no one else." 
 
 Old Dad Minasi was a man of simple 
 tastes. He liked beer better than wine. He 
 preferred Red Seal to Grand Marnier. He 
 chose to live in Poplar rather than Stamford 
 Hill. He liked shag better than a Cabanas ; 
 beef and mutton better than bird ; and bread 
 and cheese better than either; and when he 
 took Twinkletoes for a ride on the tram to- 
 wards the Forest he was as near heaven as 
 he desired to be. With simple food and 
 drink and her society, life was, for him, a bit 
 of all right. And he would chortle mirth- 
 fully every hour : "Gawd is love ! Hearts are 
 trumps!" 
 
 He couldn't understand the dope trick, 
 
 40
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 and he watched with amusement as Twinkle- 
 toes danced to a cupboard and produced a 
 lay out, a lamp, a toey filled with hop, two 
 pipes, a yen-shi-gow, and a yen-hok. She 
 lit the lamp and roasted the stuff, delicately 
 working it until it reached the right con- 
 sistency. Then she fixed it to the pipes and 
 handed one to each boy. "There y'are. 
 Good 'unting, old boys." The overwhelming 
 sweetness of the discharged gases made old 
 Dad sniff scornfully, but the boys lapped it 
 luxuriously. They lay on the floor, their 
 coats serving as pillows, and followed the 
 amiable meditations upon the flesh which the 
 hop invoked. 
 
 As they lay there, the younger of the two, 
 called Perce, his face alreadj'- assuming a 
 parchment surface after three years of the 
 pipe, watched Twinkletoes as she fluttered 
 about the workshop). His eyelids drooped. 
 His eyes became as the bright blue beads of 
 the lamps: pin-points of phosphorescence. 
 His fingers curled at the bamboo stem of his 
 
 41
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 pipe. He absorbed the lyrical flow of her 
 upright figure, and the chiming colors of her 
 dress, and the swift play of her apple-blossom 
 arms. The meaning behind his gaze could 
 no more be interpreted than the thought 
 behind a cat's eyes. 
 
 Just then the latch lifted. Dad darted 
 round with a movement of apprehension that 
 would have puzzled Twinkletoes had she seen 
 it. Chuck Lightfoot walked in. As he 
 entered he caught the smoker's fixed stare. 
 He said nothing, but his nose twitched. 
 
 "Got the boodle?" Dad asked. 
 
 Chuck grunted. "A few. I planted a 
 lot more up West. Met Wallopy and Pim. 
 lico Pete. Pete took some, and Wallopy 
 wangled the big 'uns. They got away with 
 it all right." 
 
 "Good biz. That'll be greens for dinner. 
 'Ave a cup of you-and-me? I'm hashing 
 some up here." 
 
 "Righto." 
 
 "This new lot's the goods, ain't it?" Dad 
 
 42
 
 'Twinkle toes 
 
 went on, as he fussed round a kettle on a 
 gas-ring. "Got 'em where we want 'em." 
 
 "Yerss. I don't think they'll ramp us 
 on this lot." 
 
 Twinkletoes paid no attention to the tech- 
 nical conversation, but when it v/as ended she 
 swung round. 
 
 " 'Ullo, Chuck. Where you going to sit?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't care. On the bench, if you 
 like." He sprang up to the bench, and 
 Twinkletoes clambered up beside him, where 
 they faced the pipe men, who now lay with 
 closed eyes breathing like a farmyard. 
 Twinks lit a cigarette and puffed it ecstati- 
 cally. Chuck's face was downcast; the 
 presence of Twinkletoes, and her kindly 
 comradeship, flicked him on the raw. He 
 was suffering his daily hell. 
 
 Innocent of his agony, Twinkletoes 
 chipped him. The genius of mischief bubbled 
 in her blood and boiled over in glances and 
 movements. "Brace up, old son! Why 
 the glumness? Why the bad looks? Why 
 
 43
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 the hell the sad step? Cough up to your 
 T winks the whenceness of it all? Lost your 
 money and found a last year's sweep-ticket — 
 what?" 
 
 Chuck grunted. 
 
 "Never mind, old son. Life's a game. It's 
 an adventure, and it's worth having whether 
 it's gay or sad. Ain't it, now? You look 
 as cheerful as a wet funeral on early closing 
 day. I ain't feeling too good to-night, but 
 I ain't sucking lemons about it. I was com- 
 ing along Mandarin, and that blasted old 
 Adnitt woman was torturing that kiddie 
 again. I wish I was strong. I'd put her 
 through it. What'd you do. Chuck, if you 
 see anyone beating a kid?" 
 
 "Eh?" Chuck looked up sharply. His 
 glance swerved to the slumbering Perce. 
 "Why, I reckon I'd — I'd break their blasted 
 face in." 
 
 Twinkletoes looked raptly at him. Her 
 fury against the suffering of the helpless, 
 with admiration for this champion of the 
 
 44
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 helpless, blazed in her eyes, "Yes, and you 
 could do it, too, couldn't you, Chuck? I 
 see you fight once — round at Battling's 
 ring." 
 
 "If I see anyone 'urting a child," said 
 Chuck slowly, "no one wouldn't need to show 
 me what to do." He looked at Twinkletoes. 
 "If there's one thing that gets my goat 
 it's " 
 
 The latch clicked. Hank Hogan walked 
 in, his slippery air and slippery clothes giv- 
 ing him the manner of a disgraced eel. Dad, 
 who was noisily swigging tea in the corner, 
 looked up. 
 
 "Like to see you for a minute — private- 
 like," said Hank. 
 
 "All right, old son. Down yeh go." 
 
 They descended to the basement. This 
 was a small cellar, lit by three green-shaded 
 lamps. Wisps of crinkled paper lay about 
 the floor and on the bench. There were 
 test-tubes and a retort and many small 
 bottles. 
 
 45
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 Plank chewed a piece of plug reflectively. 
 
 "Just seen the Pearly Prince," he re- 
 marked. 
 
 "So?" 
 
 "Um." He continued chewing for a 
 minute. "Got something big on just now. 
 On'y he ain't got the right things." 
 
 "So?" 
 
 "Um. There's a good thing for the chap 
 who can get 'em for 'im." 
 
 "There ought to be." 
 
 "Oh, Pearly alwis does things proper. 
 He's got the specifications and all that; but 
 he can't put 'is 'and on the right chap. Chap 
 who's got the plant and who can keep quiet.'* 
 
 "Yerss," said Dad slowly. "It ain't so 
 easy." 
 
 "Well," snapped Hank decisively. "Got 
 me?" 
 
 Dad looked squarely at him with a blank 
 expression. "Nothing doing." 
 
 "What! Mean t' say you ain't on?" 
 
 "Just that." 
 
 46
 
 'twinkle toes 
 
 "Well, of all the blasted D'you re'lize 
 
 what's in it? Pearly '11 go two 'underd for 
 the right things. And you can do 'em as 
 
 easy " He swept a tired, ragged arm 
 
 round the cellar. "Why, it's like falling 
 
 orf a log. With this lay-out you could 
 
 'Ere, you gorn barmy?" 
 
 "Nit." 
 
 "Well, ain't a couple of 'underd enough 
 for yeh? There ain't no risk. You know 
 Pearly. Pearly's straight." 
 
 "That's so. Pearly's all right. I ain't 
 saying nothing 'bout Pearly. But this ain't 
 my lay." 
 
 "Oh? What's got yeh? Got bugs— or 
 what?" 
 
 "No. Only " He looked round, bent 
 
 towards Hank, and lowered his voice. "I 
 ain't saying two 'underd won't be useful. 
 But I can't make it in that way." 
 
 "Oh. Blasted partic'ler, ain't yeh?" 
 
 " 'Ank, y'know my Twinkletoes ?" 
 
 "Um. What about 'er?" 
 
 47
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 "Well . . . you know ... if you 'ad a 
 kid like that, would you like to run risks 
 to do anything — know what I mean, any- 
 thing dirty-like. 
 
 "Teeth and testimonials! What you bin 
 doing these last four years?" 
 
 " 'At's different. I 'ad to. To give 'er 
 'er chance. Don't think I've enjoyed it, 
 'Ank. Don't think I ain't gone through a 
 good bit of 'ell over it. Wondering if she'd 
 ever find out. You know what she is — 
 straight as they make 'em. Clean as if she'd 
 come from 'eaven. An' it's alwis bin my 
 line to live up to 'er. But I 'ad to give 'er 
 'er chance. And this was the only way. 
 Well, she's 'ad 'er chance, and she's made 
 good; and I'm pretty near ready to quit. 
 I 'ad to make just that bit o' money some'ow, 
 and I made it. She's earning three quid a 
 week now with the Quayside Kids, and I 
 ain't got no need to make no more money 
 this way. We're comfortable and 'appy, 
 and what'd 'appen if she knew, Christ only 
 
 48
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 knows. It don't bear thinking about. You'd 
 understand that, 'Ank,if she was your kid. If 
 you lived with 'er you'd *ave to live straight 
 and clean. You couldn't do no other way. 
 She's like that. I can't explain. It's just 
 there; she has that effeck on yeh. Now 
 I've started 'er, I'm going to quit. The die- 
 stamping business is moseying along all 
 right, and wiv what she earns we're quite 
 comfy. 
 
 "So that's that. I'm going to quit. Tell 
 Pearly. 'E's a good chap, but I can't touch 
 it. Straight, I can't. If I make money now 
 I'm going to make it clean. See?" 
 
 "Ar. I dessay you're right. She's a 
 great kid, your Twinks. But a couple of 
 'underd's a couple of 'underd — alwis will 
 be. There ain't no risk. It could be just 
 a last flutter, and it'd be nice to 'ave a 
 little egg to put in the straight business, 
 eh?" 
 
 "Nothing doing. Hank." 
 
 "Oh, awright. Don't let me shove it 
 
 49
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 dahn yer throat. I only put it your way, 
 friendly-like, 'cos I thought you might be 
 glad of a bit and 'cos I knew that the 
 Prince'd trust you where he wouldn't no one 
 else. But there y'are. That's alwis the 
 way. Do a pal a turn— 
 
 5> 
 
 "That's all right, 'Ank. I know. I ain't 
 sniffing at you. You're all right. But I 
 just can't touch it, 'Ank. I've made the bit 
 I 'ad to make, and there we are. Under- 
 stand, don't yeh? There ain't no ill feeling 
 about it. I 'preciate your bringing it to me 
 — reely, I do." 
 
 "Awright. I s'pose you know yer own 
 mind. I'll be shoving along. The Prince 
 won't 'alf be sick, though." 
 
 "Oh, you can fix it somewhere else. Some 
 of the Stepney boys'U take it on. Well, 
 so long, 'Ank." 
 
 "So long." 
 
 They climbed the ladder to the main 
 workshop. 
 
 As Dad's head appeared on the floor level, 
 
 50
 
 Twinkletoes 
 
 there came a sharp scream in Twinkletoes' 
 voice. 
 
 Pushing open the door, he saw her on the 
 steps leading to the street. Reaching from 
 his pillow on the floor, Perce the smoker had 
 grabbed her ankle. She tmnbled from the 
 top step and fell upon him in a storm of 
 skirts and curls. Dad saw two bright brown 
 boots flash across the shop. One of these 
 was lifted and came full on Perce's face. 
 He howled and slackened his grip. Chuck, 
 the owner of the brown boots, lifted Twinkle- 
 toes with reverent hands, and drew her aside. 
 
 "I'm all right," she gasped. "Don't 
 bother, Chuck. He's a bit dopey, I reckon. 
 I ain't funked of 'im any end up. Got bugs. 
 He didn't mean it." 
 
 Dad leapt up the ladder, and Hank fol- 
 lowed him. He glared upon the dithering, 
 whining Perce. The tenderness and the 
 jollity were gone from him. Something had 
 happened to his Twinkletoes. But his mien 
 was mild against that of Chuck, who stood 
 
 51
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 over the culprit. A terrible white fire burned 
 in his face, as austerely passionate as that 
 which might have transformed the Man 
 who drove sacrilegious intruders from the 
 Temple. 
 
 He turned to Twinkletoes, who stood 
 airily aloof. "Better run along, else yeh'U 
 be late." 
 
 "Righto. Don't bother about it. It 
 wasn't anything. I'm just off, Dad. See 
 you after the show." 
 
 She ran to Dad and kissed him, and flitted 
 through the door. 
 
 The men remained in awkward silence for 
 a few moments. 
 
 "Weil, I'll be off," said Hank. The at- 
 mosphere seemed constrained. He hated 
 scenes, and he was afraid a scene was coming. 
 "I'll be in the Lantern 'fyou want me — if 
 you change yer mind, old cock." 
 
 "Righto." 
 
 When he had gone. Dad walked over to 
 the sprawling Perce, and kicked him. 
 
 52
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 "Ought to be blasted well ashamed of yesself, 
 you ought," he said. "You — putting yer 
 nasty dirty mawlers on my kiddie. If you 
 want to play games like that, find another 
 shop. See?" His anger was inflamed by 
 his own words. "You touch a — a youngster 
 like that — you, yeh dirty little hop-toad. 
 Bung off. See? Bung off. Quick, too, 
 else me and you'll 'ave a row. Won't we, 
 Chuck?" 
 
 But Chuck said nothing. He stared 
 cataleptically. 
 
 The other smoker, who had been an in- 
 dolent witness of the affair, rose, put on his 
 coat, and searched for his hat. 
 
 "Nothing more, guv 'nor?" 
 
 "No, nothing more. D'you see what young 
 Perce was up to?" 
 
 "Sure. But then, he never could take his 
 hop without going buggy. If a chap can't 
 take his dose prop'ly he ought to drop it. 
 Night." 
 
 Perce, too, found his feet and fumbled 
 
 53
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 with his coat, while Dad glowered upon him. 
 He slithered up the steps, and out, as one 
 conscious of wrong-doing, unwilling to admit 
 it, too afraid to utter defiance. 
 
 Chuck watched him go. He stretched his 
 arms widely, in apparent weariness. 
 
 "Well, I'll be toddling. See you in the 
 Lantern, guv'nor." 
 
 "Toodle-oo, lad." 
 
 In the street. Chuck looked swiftly to 
 right and left. Then he ran towards Man- 
 darin Court. Perce was slinking round the 
 corner. Chuck's hand fell like a bar of finely 
 tempered steel on his shoulder. 
 
 He jumped idiotically; wriggled; then 
 wailed. 
 
 "Leggo! Leggo!" 
 
 "I want you." He dragged him into the 
 court. "Put 'em up." 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "Put 'em up." 
 
 "Whaffor?" 
 
 "You know what for." 
 
 54
 
 cr. 
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 "Grr yell! Lemme go!" 
 
 "Going to put 'em up?" 
 
 "Grr! Bloody plucky, ain't yeh? I 
 know your sort. Alwis wanter fight wiv 
 fellers Vvho don't train, just 'cos you're a pro. 
 Wanter fight me 'cos yeh know I can't fight, 
 and it's a sorf thing for yeh. Why don't 
 yer fight the pros., eh?" 
 
 "Shut up. I'll fight you any way yeh like 
 
 — feet, if yeh like. But I'm going to learn 
 
 yeh. See? I'll learn yeh to put yer hands 
 
 on — on 'er. I'll learn yeh. Going to put 
 
 em up 5 
 
 Perce writhed, hesitated. Then shot a 
 swift boot at Chuck's shins. With the sick- 
 ness of the blow Chuck went down. For a 
 moment only, though; then the face of 
 Twinkletoes came before him, and he saw 
 again the soiling hand of Perce about her 
 holy person. In one movement he came 
 from the ground and carried his left to 
 Perce's nose. He did not hit hard, or Perce 
 would have been out; indeed, he had to 
 
 55
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 maneuver to avoid landing on the point. He 
 had no wish to use his skill or extend himself. 
 He wanted to learn him. 
 
 " 'Ave that to go on with, Perce," he 
 snapped. "That'll learn j^eh t'interfere with 
 kids. Ain't yeh sorry yeh touched 'er — eh?" 
 
 Perce answered nothing. He ducked his 
 head and made a dive to butt Chuck amid- 
 ships. Chuck side-stepped and rattled his 
 head with half -arm jabs, one-two, one-two. 
 Perce went down, and lay kicking. 
 
 "Get up!" 
 
 "Sha'n't!" 
 
 Chuck grabbed his collar, pulled him to his 
 feet, and beetled upon him. Then he worked 
 the ding-dong on him with open palms, 
 until the houses swam and the stars curveted 
 in the sky. Perce staggered to the wall, 
 and stood hunched up, mouthing fearful 
 oaths about Chuck and Twinkletoes. Chuck 
 listened attentively, then sent three smart 
 ones to the dirty mouth. 
 
 "Say that again. Mention 'er name again, 
 
 56
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 and you won't 'ave a mouth to speak with. 
 Understand?" 
 
 He bent over the crouching figure, prod- 
 ding him in the ribs, sending half -arm jabs 
 to the hidden face, and kneeing him about the 
 body. Perce was gasping. He was bleed- 
 ing from nose and mouth. His face was dis- 
 colored to the tinge of raw beetroot. 
 
 By this time a bunch of loungers had 
 gathered. Perce had no fight in him, and, 
 to the delight of the company, Chuck, with 
 very serious manner, tucked him under his 
 arm and chastised him well and truly. They 
 formed a circle and chanted a music-hall 
 chorus of the day: 
 
 "Dear old pals, 
 Jolly old pals, 
 You find where'er you roam!" 
 
 "That's that," he said, when it was ended. 
 " 'F you want any more, y'know 'ow to get 
 it. 'Tain't 'ealthy for you t'interfere with 
 kids. See?" 
 
 Cissie Lightfoot, seated at her window 
 
 57
 
 T^winklefoes 
 
 with a copy of The Bouquet Novelettes in her 
 hand, witnessed the fight and, later, when 
 Chuck and the crowd had departed, she 
 called to the damaged Perce to step up. 
 
 He stepped up. 
 
 "What's my old pot-and-pan bin doing to 
 yer?" she asked. 
 
 "Damn silly thing t'ask. Gaucher see?" 
 
 "Yes, but what's it all for?" 
 
 "Oh, I d'know. They've all gorn barmy at 
 the Works, I think. Anybody'd think that 
 old Minasi's kid was Gawd's own angel." 
 
 Cissie became keen. She asked no ques- 
 tions for fear of getting evasive or inade- 
 quate answers. 
 
 "I know. Chuck's gorn batty over 'er. 
 I've 'eard a lot in different ways. If she is 
 a blasted angel — and it ain't so sure — kid's 
 like her gen'ly know a bit — what the 'ell do 
 they want to keep 'er 'ere for? In Poplar? 
 We ain't got no room for angels 'ere. 
 'Eaven's their place. Why can't they keep 
 in it? They on'y make trouble in a pJace 
 
 58
 
 'T'winkletoes 
 
 like this." She looked through the grimy 
 window, with its rag of curtain. "So Chuck 
 put it acrors jo\x^. Tried to start on me 
 t'other night, but it didn't come orf." 
 
 "Whaffor?" 
 
 "Oh, I chipped 'im about the nipper." 
 
 "Huh!" Perce gave a superior but rueful 
 laugh. "I did a bit more than that. I'd bin 
 'aving a pipe, and I went bald-'eaded at 'er. 
 Bald-'eaded. 'Strewth, y 'ought t'ave seen 
 the rumpus old Minasi and Chuck made. If 
 I'd a-sold the business to the narks they 
 couldn't 'a' bin madder. Well, I got one in 
 fer Chuck, now, and I don't mind tellin' yeh 
 even if 'e is yer 'usband." 
 
 "Oh, that don't worry me. Wish to Gawd 
 'e wasn't. I don't blame yeh. You got 
 reason to." 
 
 "Yerss, and I'll work it orf 'fore long." 
 
 Cissie looked at him, and he at Cissie. "I 
 s'pose, now ..." she began. 
 
 'Yerss?" 
 
 'Oh— nothing." 
 
 59 
 
 4C^
 
 "Twhjkletoes 
 
 "But you was saying . . ." 
 
 "Oh, I was on'y thinking. 'Ow easy it'd 
 be. They're a rotten lot round there. All 
 of 'em. Playing up to the angel-face like 
 they was a blasted lot of parsons, and all the 
 time doing — well, you know what. I ain't 
 never been connected with games o' that sort. 
 My people was respectable, and I've kept 
 meself respectable." 
 
 She inspected her broken shoes. 
 
 " 'At's so." Perce assumed boredom. 
 
 After a minute she looked up. "Plenty 
 of people'd like to jump the game. Know 
 old Territon?" 
 
 "What— th' Inspector?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " 'Ere — go easy," he snapped, and moved 
 suddenly and sat down again, touching sore 
 places with solicitous hands. "That'd be 
 'eaithy fer me, wouldn't it?" 
 
 "You could make a get-away 'forehand. 
 You could lie under easy. I could fix it for 
 yeh. I know a man." 
 
 60
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 "Grr!" 
 
 "Straight. Listen." She closed the 
 window dehcately. "Listen. You got one 
 on Chuck. Well, I got a 'underd on 'im. 
 Ain't I 'ad enough from 'im for the last six 
 months? You don't know what I've 'ad. 
 
 I've 'ad enough to — to And it's all 
 
 through that lousy Minasi kid." Her face 
 lost its slackness and became hard. Her 
 hands closed. "I'd like to break 'em up. The 
 whole lot. Break 'em. Smash 'em to bits. 
 But I can't break 'em on me own. There's 
 on'y one way I know, and if I used that . . , 
 Y'see, people'd talk if I jumped me own 
 man's game. Somebody else could, though, 
 and me not know nothing about it, like. See 
 what I mean? But there — I s'pose you're 
 too funky to risk it. Besides ..." 
 
 " 'Ere, come," said Perce airily. He 
 preened himself. "I dunno so much about 
 that. I ain't a fighter, I know. I ain't 'ad 
 no training. But there ain't many things 
 I'm afraid of. If I like to go for a thing, I 
 
 61
 
 'T'winkletoes 
 
 go — all out. Nobody who knows me'd say 
 that I funked. Not when I'm really keen. 
 Ask anybody. Ask old " 
 
 "Well, then. You got yer chance. I'm 
 giving- it yeh. You won't wipe Chuck out 
 by fighting. But . . ." 
 
 "Yerss." 
 
 "Well, then . . ." 
 
 They sat on rickety chairs in some minutes' 
 silence. Then: " 'Ave a drop o' beer," said 
 Cissie. "You look as though you could do 
 with it." 
 
 "I don' mind. And yeh needn't rub it in. 
 I feel like a plurry clothes- 'orse." 
 
 "I know. 'Ere's luck! And now listen 
 to me." 
 
 And she kept him in cold, busy talk for the 
 space of an hour. 
 
 62
 
 IV 
 
 ONCE out of Mandarin Court, Twin- 
 kletoes ran fawn-like towards the 
 Quayside at Shadwell. She was 
 late. The Quayside was a small affair that 
 choked a byway of Commercial Road East 
 — a dusty survival of the old-style hall, with 
 a public-house adjoining. It had few turns 
 on its books, and these came round in rotation 
 every five or six weeks. But the Quayside 
 public was pathetically faithful to its second- 
 rate entertainers. One of the favorite turns 
 was that of "The Quayside Kids," a troupe 
 of juveniles led by Twinkletoes, w^ho sang 
 and danced ; and a brave picture they made, 
 those groups of glorious girls, touched with 
 all the charms of their little years, with 
 Twinkletoes in the centre, her young throat 
 quivering like a singing bird's. Merely to 
 gaze upon them was at once refresliment of 
 body and spirit. 
 
 She was never quite placed by her 
 audience. She drew them while some of them 
 
 63
 
 'T'winkletoes 
 
 — the bar crowd — resented being drawn. 
 They would leave their drinks to watch her 
 dances, fairy or goblin; and when she had 
 finished they would wonder why on earth 
 they'd left the bar. Yet, whatever she was — 
 angel or goblin or just a child — none could 
 be in her presence without gaining from her 
 something of that tranquillity of soul which 
 makes life not bearable but a magnificent 
 enterprise. At fifteen she knew all those 
 terrible things that philosophers achieve when 
 they come home by Weeping Cross. The 
 wisdom and the heart-ache, the tears and the 
 laughter, and the grief and beauty of all 
 transient things she carried in that pert head 
 set so aptly upon her, and her impetuous legs 
 translated to her people the glory of their 
 grey lives. The hearts of men and women 
 were entangled in her hair, and their desires 
 jangled with the anklets about her lily feet. 
 She taught them, without teaching, to 
 look tenderly upon everything. She taught 
 them that nothing was common or unclean 
 
 64
 
 liwinkletoes 
 
 save cruelty and meanness. She taught 
 them to be afraid of nothing but themselves. 
 She made sweet and desirable all things that 
 finer people called Vulgar. She ridiculed 
 everything, and her laughter never hurt; 
 it was like sun and rain falling from the sky 
 to cleanse and clothe. She taught them to 
 live boldly and gladly, making beauty where 
 no beauty was, and her shining creed of 
 "Ain't people and things lovely?" lit the 
 monotonous hours wherever she carried it. 
 
 Sometimes she danced like the happy little 
 girl that she was, and sometimes in a simu- 
 lated frenzy of adult passion and despair. 
 
 She would dance on for her solo with an 
 air of tragic portent, which she shattered with 
 the first flash of her smile. Folks felt at 
 times that she was a poem; and then, by her 
 flagrant gaiety, that she was a crackling 
 epigram. Certainly she was a problem ; not 
 a problem to ponder, but a problem, like life, 
 to accept and enjoy. 
 
 Her stage manner embraced all; yet re- 
 
 65
 
 Twinkletoes 
 
 mained curiously private and personal. She 
 would turn suddenly and deliver to the stalls 
 a glance at once wide and intimate. All 
 were in the joke, yet each felt that he alone 
 understood it. She w^as in raptures about 
 some marvellous secret, apart from the busi- 
 ness of the stage, and she possessed that 
 intangible something that wafted this rap- 
 ture across the band to each individual in the 
 steaming house. So unerring was her 
 judgment in regard to her own .capacities 
 that, when she wished to feature a particular 
 dance, the controller of the troupe usually 
 allowed it, and a small and dusty hall in the 
 Shadwell district once presented Twinkletoes 
 and companions in the sombre False Triste 
 of Sibelius. Draped in a black veil, she 
 sleep-walked through its long surging 
 strokes. Thej^ evoked in her a certain mys- 
 tery into which the real child dissolved and 
 through which one glimpsed a new, remote 
 Twinkletoes ; and a breath of foreign North- 
 ern seas was carried to East End working 
 
 66
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 men and women. Again, she might choose 
 stately pavanes and minuets, joyous gavottes 
 and mazurkas, frantic sarabands. But 
 most she loved and danced those crystalline 
 bits of Mediterranean melody from Mas- 
 senet, Delibes, Giordano, Wolf-Ferrari, 
 Ponchielli, and Scarlatti: music which ran 
 into her pulses and made her body a very 
 tune. 
 
 To the gallery boys, who had constituted 
 themselves a guard of honor to the Quayside 
 Kids, she was a pet. There existed between 
 them and her a subtle rapprochement, and 
 the symphony for the Kids' number was 
 greeted with yells and local war-cries. At the 
 rise of the curtain she would acknowledge 
 this greeting, sometimes with a delicious 
 grimace, sometimes, when she felt devilish, 
 with a raspberry. They liked her, not so 
 much for her turn ( thej'^ would have told you 
 that dancing bored them stiff), as because 
 she was so lovely to look at, her joy so con- 
 tagious. They had loved her since the night 
 
 67
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 of the alarm of fire, when she had averted a 
 panic by dancing on before a front cloth and 
 distributing her garters and ribbons to the 
 stalls, while chi-iking the gallery with ribald 
 comment and richly improper gesture. 
 
 If, in her dance, she showed signs of flag- 
 ging, they would encourage her: "Go it, 
 young 'un. Faster! Put yer back in it! 
 Put rings round 'em, kid!" When the Kids' 
 turn was over, and Twinkletoes took her 
 curtain call, there would come from the boys 
 a harmonized chorus: 
 
 Are we to part like this. Bill? 
 Are we to part this way? 
 
 For any turn that failed to reach their 
 standard — red-nose comedian, piano enter- 
 tainer, or girl vocalist — they had a set for- 
 mula. Taking the signal from their leader, 
 they would chant, to the four notes of Big 
 Ben: 
 
 Git orf! Git orf! 
 Git orf! Git orf! 
 68
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 Then, in staccato shouts : 
 
 We Want- 
 
 and explosively: 
 
 TWINKLETOES! 
 
 We Want 
 
 TWINKLETOES! 
 
 and this they would maintain until the dis- 
 concerted artist had disappeared. 
 
 As she pelted towards the stage-door she 
 was greeted and chi-iked from all sides. A 
 group of little girls hung round the door, 
 enviously worshipping all members of the 
 Quayside Kids, and particularly Twinkle- 
 toes, while they dreamed of the day when 
 they, too, might get "on the stage" and 
 possess that glory and power that enabled 
 them to pass casually through that narrow, 
 frowsty gatewaj^ into the delectable land of 
 lights and colors and popular acclaim. 
 People stopped what they were doing to give 
 a nod, and did nothing for some moments 
 
 69
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 after, following her with glances as she w^ent. 
 The landlady of the Quayside bar beamed 
 upon her. The pot-man chirruped a 
 "Watcherkid!" The stage-door keeper 
 turned laborious wit upon her, and in the 
 dressing-room the Quaysides received her 
 with shrill whistles, while the Matron in 
 charge of them, a stout old dame in black 
 dress and white apron, met her with placid 
 reproof : 
 
 "You're late, Minasi!" 
 
 "Can't 'elp it. Ma. Just in time. Be 
 just in time and fear not." And then her 
 little body was a whirl of frock and petticoat 
 and descending stockings. "Who's got me 
 powder? Where's me powder? Suffering 
 Jesus! Someone's pinched me " 
 
 "Minasi!" cried Ma. 
 
 "No, but, Ma — someone's bin and 'alf- 
 inched me powder. Someone's done the dirty 
 on me. Never mind. I'd sooner have a red 
 nose than a spot on " 
 
 A call-boy appeared. 
 
 70
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 "Quaysides! Willie Wangler's on." 
 Meanwhile, at hundreds of late tea-tables 
 in Limehouse and Poplar, people were an- 
 ticipating a visit to the Quaj'^side. Husbands 
 were putting on clean shirts and otherwise 
 preparing to take their wives. Bright boys 
 were cleaning their boots and arranging to 
 meet their girls at given corners in order to 
 have sixpenn'orth of "lean-over." Women 
 with the evening free were planning enter- 
 tainment with other women. They talked 
 of it ; they thought about it ; they washed and 
 arranged for it. Many of them had saved 
 money for it, or denied themselves a relish for 
 tea in order to obtain one of the more expen- 
 sive seats. They disinterred Sunday bonnets 
 and speculated as to whether they might wear 
 the everyday one or whether that Mrs. So- 
 and-so might be there, quizzing; and they 
 were robed and ready half-an-hour before 
 they should start. 
 
 Why? Because Twinkletoes and the 
 children were dancing; and, because it was 
 
 n
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 the spirit of youth that they danced, all the 
 old ladies of Poplar crowded to see it. 
 
 At the theatre they inspected the faded 
 photographs, hung at the main entrance, of 
 the massed troupe of joyous children posed 
 in a finale, and the separate photographs of 
 Twinkletoes, and then joined the queues, at 
 pit and gallery doors. 
 
 Willie Wangler, the famous washer- 
 woman comedian, was the star, but the Quay- 
 side Kids were the bottom-liners, and of the 
 eager multitude only the young people were 
 attracted by Willie Wangler. 
 
 The evening's bill was discussed in detail, 
 arbitrary criticism being offered on each 
 turn, with occasional exclusive information 
 as to the personal habits of any given turn. 
 
 "Well, I 'ope they open the door soon. 
 My feet's that cold. I alwis love to see the 
 kids dancing, don't you? Ain't they little 
 darlings? And they do seem to enjoy it 
 
 so." 
 
 'Ah, that's a fact they do — especially 
 
 72
 
 'Twinkletoes 
 
 that golden- 'eaded one — Twinkletoes, I be- 
 lieve they call 'er. I know somebody who 
 knows 'er." 
 
 "No. Reely?" 
 
 "Ah. And they do say she's just the same 
 in private life as she is on the stage." 
 
 "There, now. You don't say so. Y'know 
 I've alwis 'eard that they're very cruel to 
 children on the stage when they're training 
 'em. But cert'ny this lot don't look it." 
 
 "No fear. It don't do to believe all you 
 read in the papers, my dear." 
 
 Directly the call-boy gave the warning 
 that Willie Wangler was on, Ma made a 
 determined assault on Twinkletoes. In her 
 arms she carried a cloud of filmy, colored 
 stuffs. She grabbed the child and, with 
 deft fingers, pulled at laces and buttons, until 
 the growing pile of clothes blossomed about 
 her ankles like a rose. Through the single 
 garment she now wore, her limbs rippled and 
 shone like flames. She stood upright before 
 Ma, her movements and glances swift as a 
 
 73
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 startled bird's, her arms stretched to sHp 
 into the robe for which the old woman 
 fumbled, her body eager and clean and poised 
 like a deer for the leap. The several curls 
 hung like crops of golden wine, and every 
 fibre of her seemed to tingle with delight. 
 She was an ecstasy of youth. 
 
 Face, bosom, neck, arms and shoulders 
 were quickly powdered or rouged; then Ma 
 took up a mass of orange-tinted silk. One 
 end she gave to Twinkletoes, and herself 
 walked away unwinding as she w^ent. 
 
 "Ready?" asked Twinkletoes. She put 
 one end under her arms, then, turning and 
 turning her gleaming body, she moved to- 
 wards ^la, entwining her person in silk, un- 
 winding herself here and there and winding 
 anew to avoid creases. This ceremony ended, 
 strips of blue silk were wound about her bare 
 arms and lily legs, and over all she put a 
 green frock edged with fur at neck, wrists 
 and hem. 
 
 When she was fullv encased. Ma shoved 
 
 74
 
 'Twmkletoes 
 
 her into a chair, and tended her curls, though 
 she had ah-eady dressed them at home, and 
 drenched them with a fluid that left a peace- 
 ful perfume of violets. Then she turned her 
 about, took her bare legs upon her lap and 
 slipped morsels of cotton wool under the 
 soles, and wound strips of tape about them 
 and the ankles before fitting scarlet stockings 
 and ballet shoes. 
 
 In five minutes Twinkletoes was ready 
 for the first number, the bright green frock 
 and scarlet stockings covering the gauze 
 necessary for a Puck dance, so that she could 
 peel the top frock and stockings in the wings 
 while Ma powdered her legs, and be ready 
 for the next number in a few seconds. The 
 girls waited in alert idleness. Some of them 
 were older than Twinkletoes and a little 
 too hardened in the coarser usages of life. 
 Twinkletoes did not dislike them for their 
 ways; they hurt nobody but themselves, 
 and they were otherwise such darlings; but 
 their frolics made no great appeal to her. 
 
 75
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 A mature girl of seventeen came across to 
 her. 
 
 "Say — Twinks — Roseleaf s going to give 
 a jag after the show. Come along? Why 
 not ? You never have. ' ' 
 
 "Not for me, thanks." 
 
 "Why not? 'Squite all right. Old Rose- 
 leaf's nothing to be afraid of. He gets a 
 bit fresh at times, but you can always barge 
 him off. We're going to the Lantern — 
 downstairs — and then move on to the other 
 place. Go on. Spread yourself a bit and 
 come. It's awful fun." 
 
 "No, thanks. Lilac. 'Tain't my game." 
 
 "Oh, you are a snuffer. Wh}^ ever not? 
 I know you'd enjoy it. We only have 
 wine, and I've seen you put down plenty of 
 that." 
 
 "No, I'm not coming. I'd like to, but — 
 it don't seem — oh, I dunno. I can't come. 
 Thanks, Lilac." 
 
 Lilac inspected her. Then continued in her 
 clipped accent which marked her from the 
 
 76
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 others as a girl of some education: "What 
 d'you mean?" 
 
 "Oh, well," in a burst of confidence, "it's 
 my dad, y'know. 'E wouldn't like it." 
 
 "What's that matter? My dad wouldn't 
 neither, if he knew. Only I don't let him 
 know. I tell him we've had a rush rehearsal 
 after the show. He doesn't know any 
 better." 
 
 "Ah, yes, but my dad ain't like that. I 
 couldn't never tell 'im a lie." 
 
 "Oh, what's a lie — once in a way?" 
 
 "Ah, you don't understand. My dad's 
 different. 'E ain't ordinary. I'd feel a dirty 
 beast if ever I told 'im a lie." 
 
 "Ghu! All dads are like. What's yours? 
 He's only " 
 
 "My dad's the finest, straightest man in 
 the world," shrilled Twinkletoes, jumping 
 up from her chair. " 'E's one o' the best 
 men that ever lived, and anyone who says 
 'e ain't is asking for a mouthful o' blood. 
 
 Suffering Je " 
 
 77
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 "Minasi!" cried Ma. "You know the 
 rules about swearing." 
 
 " 'E's the cleanest thing that ever was," 
 she continued, with dislocating fervor, "and 
 I'm not coming on your old jags. 'E 
 wouldn't think it decent. I dunno what 'e'd 
 think o' me if 'e 'card. 'E ain't never done 
 anything dirty 'imself, and 'e'd think this 
 du'ty. I Ivnow 'e would. And that's all 
 about it. It's good enough for me. I know 
 what goes on there. I ain't a fool, Lilac. I 
 know the rules of the game from soup to 
 nuts. If you 'ad a dad like mine you'd 
 understand. I don't say I wouldn't like to 
 come. I would. I've often got all feathered 
 up, like I'd give anything to go on the bat 
 for a bit with your lot, but some'ow when I 
 think of my dad I just can't. Y'see, 'e's 
 clean all through. 'E don't understand these 
 jag games, and if I batted I'd feel like I 
 couldn't never go near 'im again." 
 
 "Oh, all right. You needn't get your 
 wool out over it." 
 
 78
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 "I wasn't. On'y — you see why I can't 
 come in, and " 
 
 "Quaysides, please!" 
 
 "Come on in, girls!" she cried. "The 
 water's fine!" 
 
 The group of green children flittered down 
 the stairs to the wings. Fat Markie Rose- 
 leaf, the manager, stood in a corner. He 
 had a tawny skin that suggested negroid 
 blood. Crude, indefinable emotions sped 
 across his face, expressed in changing lines 
 about the mouth, as he looked long and 
 heavily at this cluster of youth. 
 
 79
 
 V 
 
 6 i ^ rOICKS ! Yoicks ! Yoicks !" 
 
 I It was the voice of the nimble old 
 
 Dad outside Twinkletoes' bedroom. 
 In his hand he carried a cup of tea and a 
 packet of Woodbines. 
 
 " 'Ark, 'olloa!" cried the sleepy dancer. 
 
 Dad walked in, placed the tea and cigar- 
 ettes on a chair, with a box of matches, and 
 stood looking with effervescent amusement 
 at the tumbled bed and its sleep-flushed 
 owner. Her eyes were bright and clear; her 
 yellow curls running with a wayward fire. 
 She grimaced at him. 
 
 "Marv'llous bloody kid, ain't you?" he 
 chortled affectionately. 
 
 "Don't care if I am. I ain't kicking. 
 What's the time?" 
 
 "Ar pars nine." 
 
 "Um." She sipped the tea, took a Wood- 
 bine, and lit it, and lay back on the pillow. 
 Her little nightdress, disordered, showed a 
 soft white shoulder on which still rested a 
 
 80
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 little of last evening's powder. She stretched 
 her arms above her, and her sweet, straight 
 body, perfect in its immaturity, like that of a 
 white rosebud which suggests happier things 
 than the full flower achieves, was vibrant. 
 "Oh, Dad — ain't people and things lovely? 
 I'm so 'appy." 
 
 "That's the style. Watcher doing to-day ? 
 I'm just orf to th' Works." 
 
 "Oh, I d'know. Mooning around, I s'pose. 
 I'll pop round and see old Mrs. Toplady, I 
 think. She's rather peeved just now. Take 
 'er some flowers and a drop of that old 
 brandy; we got some left, I think. That 
 ought to let the dog loose. She's been a dear 
 old duck in 'er time, but no one goes near 'er 
 now she's up against it." 
 
 "Righto." 
 
 "Seen my new silk stockings, old man? 
 In that brown paper over there. Cast yer 
 eye over 'em. Ain't they glad?" 
 
 Dad unfastened the parcel and inspected 
 the flimsy arrangements. 
 
 81
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 "Huh! Looks as though only the best 
 is good enough for you." 
 
 "Oh, I can rub along with the best if there 
 ain't nothing better. Won't I have the 
 cheery leg with them on? On'y bought 'em 
 last night. You needn't look like that. 
 They didn't cost what you think they did. 
 I got 'em through Jessie. She's got an aunt 
 at one of the big Stores, and gets everything 
 cost price. Oh, look! Sun's coming out. 
 Ain't everything good? Bung off, Dad. 
 I'm going to get up. See you at th' Works 
 's evening. Don't go down the mine, Daddy ; 
 there's plenty of coal in the yard !" 
 
 She had an idle day before her : there was 
 no rehearsal. She hated rehearsals as she 
 hated everything of routine and order. She 
 knew far better than the conductor how to 
 interpret a given passage, and she had no 
 use for his conventional theories. Too, 
 rehearsal always started with blasphemy and 
 ended with irritation and incipient neurosis. 
 
 While the conductor seldom got his own 
 
 82
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 way in the matter of Twinkletoes' solos, he 
 would put the troupe through an ensemble 
 forty or fifty times to get the effect he 
 wanted. The work would end always with 
 the same ceremony, 
 
 "Now, then, you perishers," he would 
 snap, when at last some intricate movement 
 was satisfactorily accomplished; "down on 
 yer knees, the lot of yer." 
 
 Down they would go on the cold stage. 
 
 "Put yer 'ands together." 
 
 Twenty pairs of little hands would be 
 folded as for prayer. 
 
 "Now, then: repeat after me: Oh, 
 Gawd " 
 
 "Oh, God " they would pipe in solemn 
 
 ritual. 
 
 "We thank Thee " 
 
 We thank Thee- 
 
 "That Thou has sent- 
 "That Thou has sent- 
 
 >» 
 
 'Dear Ernie Puaimtt- 
 
 nm 
 83 
 
 'Deal' Ernie Pugnutt-
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 "To drill us blasted lot of twicers into 
 shape." 
 
 "To drill us blasted lot of twicers into 
 shape." 
 
 "That's it. And now go and lose your- 
 selves — quick. I 'ate the sight of yeh." 
 
 When Dad had gone, Twinkletoes played 
 at getting up. In Shantung Place there 
 were no baths, so she paddled and splashed 
 in a washing basin and flung her delighted 
 limbs; and her elfin face, her arms, like 
 boughs of May, urgent and bright, and the 
 most piquant legs in Poplar, all gave as- 
 surance, if any doubted, that everything was 
 indeed lovely. 
 
 Always in her room was a bunch of violets, 
 bought every day from the old woman at 
 the corner of East India Dock Road, near 
 the Star of the East. These were placed in 
 a bottle on the washing-stand where she 
 could see them from the bed when she woke. 
 
 "Silly of me,"she once explained to Dad, 
 "but I must pray to something, and I can't 
 
 84
 
 '^winkletoes 
 
 pray to God. He seems such a long way off. 
 So I kneel down every night, and pray to 
 these. You can't pray properly to any- 
 thing you can't catch hold of, like." 
 
 She dressed slowly, and with some care, 
 hesitating for a moment betw^een brown 
 socks and the new silk stockings, finally 
 choosing the stockings and drawing them on 
 with a loud sigh of delight. The short frock 
 which finished aptly at the knee gave her 
 legs a brave show, and in their transparent 
 coverings they appeared positively insolent, 
 challenging. She quickly made the beds and 
 "tidied the place" up, leaving the heavier 
 cleaning for Mrs. Next-door, who came in 
 three times a week and turned the cottage 
 on its head. Dad took all his meals outside, 
 bringing in cooked meat for Twinkletoes' 
 supper, so that only on Sundays did she 
 have to do what she called the Domestic Act. 
 
 These jobs done, she found a brown sports 
 coat and a lacy hat, and was ready to astonish 
 the natives — as she always did. In the 
 
 85
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 kitchen she filled a small bottle with a 
 measure of the old brandy for Mrs. Toplady, 
 and poured herself out a small Bass — her 
 customary breakfast. 
 
 She paused for a moment at the door to 
 finish her third cigarette, tossing back the 
 crowding curls, a petulant leg kicking idly 
 at nothing. Then with a thrill of dainty 
 frock she skipped into Shantung Place, 
 whose ladies were "sloshing down their 
 fronts," as they said, and gave the merry 
 word to all she passed. 
 
 She loved the comradeship of streets and 
 shops, and hated the silly old country. The 
 lights and the noise and the pungent odors 
 held her happily captive. A farm was to her 
 an abode of blood and filth. The damnable 
 solitudes, the enei^^ating skies, the stupid 
 seas and woods and fields, she loathed. 
 She was a town girl, and sweeping moor- 
 lands and flower-spangled hills lit in her, as 
 in all town people, pernicious flames, while 
 the considered allurements of town life, which 
 
 86
 
 Twinkletoes 
 
 abounded for the having in Limehouse, had 
 left her unmarked. The life she led might 
 be labelled by some as artificial. But 
 among theaters and halls, sensuous music, 
 swirling limbs, provocative song, glitter, 
 drinking-bars, smoking-rooms, and the ap- 
 purtenances, in the popular conception, of 
 moral dirt and the soul's decay, she developed 
 towards joy. Being very wise, she knew 
 that the only natural life for humans is town 
 life; that spaces and silences are unnatural, 
 and therefore encourage the development of 
 the unnatural. She knew that country 
 life is fundamentally obnoxious to man, and 
 only serves to drive him stupid or into him- 
 self, and sets him seeking in strange corners 
 that distraction that is ever at hand in com- 
 fortable streets. God created man in a fair 
 and lonely garden, she maintained; but He 
 never meant him to stay there, or that jolly 
 old parable about Ten Talents wouldn't 
 have been told. 
 
 Her first move was towards a low lane 
 
 87
 
 Twinkletoes 
 
 of crumbling cottages behind Poplar High 
 Street. Its aroma was offensive. Betel nut 
 and decaying refuse battled with each other. 
 One looked from the windows of these 
 cottages into the bleary face of Poplar, and 
 the vociferant life of the main road came 
 clearly, in tabloid form. The walls of the 
 houses were peeling in dank strips. Slat- 
 ternly women of indeterminate ages lounged 
 in doorways, gossiping with Next-door, or 
 thrusting heads from frowsy windows to cry 
 philosophies to Over-the-road. A cat's-meat 
 cart stood at the corner, and Twinkletoes 
 stopped her progress to stroke the head of the 
 dolorous horse. 
 
 " 'UUo, 'ere's a norse. What a nice norse! 
 Poor old norsey-porsey. 'Ave a banana? 
 I ain't got one, but you could 'ave one if I 
 'ad." 
 
 A half-starved child, of nine lean winters, 
 stood with nose pressed against the window 
 of a cheap sweet and cake shop. Twinkle- 
 toes looked at her. Then she gave her a 
 
 88
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 violent shove in the back. The child's lunatic 
 start showed that she had reason to fear such 
 approaches. 
 
 Twinkletoes jerked a thumb at the window 
 with one of her rich grimaces which asked a 
 question or told a story without words. She 
 opened the door and went in, and the child, 
 understanding, followed her. Twinkletoes 
 whistled on her teeth and jangled coppers 
 before her guest. 
 
 "Cakes, dear," said Twinkletoes to the 
 grey-haired dame of the shop. "And choco- 
 late. And one o' those hot drinks. . . . 
 There y'are kid. Bung off. Think kindly 
 of me when I'm dead." 
 
 With stolid face the child took the gifts, 
 looked up at Twinkletoes, then turned from 
 the shop, and fled furiously down the street 
 towards home. 
 
 As Twinkletoes proceeded to Mrs. Top- 
 lady's, a neat, spry figure came smartly 
 round a corner, conscious of the glories of 
 bowler hat, cigarette, and wanghee cane. 
 
 89
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 His lively face conveyed the awful sugges- 
 tion that he was about to be funny. 
 
 "'Ullo, Face!" said Twinldetoes. 
 
 He stopped. The cigarette, riding so 
 jauntily on his lips, dropped. He fumbled 
 wildly for it, caught it, squashed it against 
 him, then left it to its fate. It went miser- 
 ably to the gutter in a shower of sparks, and 
 Twinkletoes wondered if glow-worms looked 
 like that when vou trod on them. 
 
 "Oh — you — Swankpot. Bin to the second- 
 'and shop. I see." He pointed to the 
 stockings. 
 
 "Yes. Met your father there — pawning 
 some of the hats what 've got too small for 
 you." 
 
 "Huh! Fresh thing ain't you? . . . 
 'Aven't 'card 'bout me, I s'pose?" 
 
 "That's all we do 'ear about when you 
 start talking." 
 
 "No — serious. Roseleaf's going to give 
 me a trial." 
 
 "Oh. 'Ope 'e finds you guilty." 
 
 90
 
 ^wmkletoes 
 
 "No, reely, though. No chipping, Twinks. 
 'E's going to give me a show. Extra turn. 
 Sat'd'y night. Imitations, and song and 
 dance." 
 
 " 'Onest? Well, 'ope you come through 
 all right, Bert. I'll get in early, and see you. 
 Don't get nervy. 'F you go as you did at 
 that smoking concert, you're all right. Goo' 
 luck, boy." 
 
 "Thanks, kid. S'long." 
 
 " 'Ow's yer father?" 
 
 "Oh, 'e's all right. On'y 'e don't like this 
 strike o' mine. Silly of 'im, y'know. But 
 I don' take no notice. I just go on, and let 
 'im growse. I got to get on, y'know, 
 some'ow. There ain't nothing in that ware- 
 house place for me. I got to move some'ow. 
 . . . Y'see 'e thinks I shall get on top and 
 — sort of look down on 'im, but that ain't me. 
 'Is little bats don't worry me. 'E's always 
 the old dad. I ain't going to ask him to get 
 on with me, if 'e don't want to. But I 
 sha'n't ever get orf 'im. That ain't my style. 
 
 91
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 Stick to them what sticks to you is my mot- 
 ter. Well — wow-wow!" 
 
 Twinkletoes went on, and found Mrs. 
 Toplady in a chair in the kitchen of her cot- 
 tage. Her eyes glistened at sight of her 
 visitor. They became twin stars when she 
 saw the visitor's gift, and she remarked that 
 God was good to His own, bless 'Is 'eart. 
 She found a glass at once, and proceeded to 
 do herself good. 
 
 "My! but that's a drop of rare stuff, 
 Twinks, my love." 
 
 "You bet. Brown brandy, my dear. 
 Guaranteed to stretch the dog out at fifty 
 yards." 
 
 "Don't it drink lovely and smooth?" 
 
 "Yes, you don't want no didn't-oughter 
 with that, eh? Just met j^oung Bertie Trun- 
 dett. ' 'E's going to get a show at our place, 
 'e tells me." 
 
 "There, now! Ain't it wonderful 'ow the 
 children get on now'days? Wonderful. 
 Them Trundetts, now. Brought up in the 
 
 92
 
 'Twhzklefoes 
 
 gutter, as you might say, and now they got a 
 piano." 
 
 "Got it on the 'ire system, though" said 
 a ragged voice, through Mrs. Toplady's 
 kitchen window. " 'Cos I know the shop 
 they got it at, and I seen 'im paying the instal 
 
 That's a nice drop o' stuff you got there, 
 
 Mrs. Toplady." The intruder sniffed ap- 
 provingly. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Topladj% "and there s 
 on'y enough for one." 
 
 "Oh, a Wright. Awright. I ain't one to 
 shove meself. I can take a 'int, same as 
 others. I know when I ain't wanted." 
 
 "Never mind, old dear," cried Twinkletoes, 
 as the visitor disappeared into her own 
 grounds, "I'll bring you some next time — 
 a real nice drop." 
 
 "There, now!" said the visitor to the 
 eternities. "Ain't she a bleeding little 
 angel?" 
 
 Twinkletoes, brave little woman, was re- 
 garded as a court of appeal in this lost lane, 
 
 93
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 and was received with that courtesy which 
 in more polite parts is reserved for the vicar 
 or the district visitor, though here the vicar 
 and his ladies seldom dared to show them- 
 selves. Even the solitary constable found 
 his casual gazes at loungers met with an easy 
 brute calm which disturbed his self-assurance. 
 Twinkletoes mothered the Lane's children, 
 when she had time. She advised as to the 
 expenditure of the few shillings that arrived 
 on Saturday nights. She knew by instinct 
 where the best value was to be obtained; 
 the right stall in the right street when 
 potatoes were in question, and how one 
 should come at the highest value in the 
 matter of fried fish. By graphic parables, 
 she had induced Mrs. Trundett to abandon 
 her ineffectual fumblings at spotting the 
 winner; and for those to whom he was an 
 urgent necessity, she had found the ideal 
 Uncle. 
 
 She looked in at the Trundetts' to con- 
 gratulate them on Bert's coming debut, and 
 
 94
 
 liwinkletoes 
 
 found herself involved in a domestic up- 
 heaval. 
 
 "Say, Twinkletoes, wonder if you'd mind 
 popping in next door and having a say at 
 them. Way 'e knocks 'er about's something 
 awful. Up against the wall. Fair shook 
 my ornaments orf the mantelpiece t'other 
 night. It did, straight. And they cost 
 money. I bought 'em meself. At the six- 
 penny-'apney shop. So you can tell." 
 
 Next door, Mr. Bill Garside hulked in a 
 chair by the fire, his feet on the hob, his 
 mouth at a brown stone jug. 
 
 "Hi— you!" 
 
 " 'Uilo, kid." 
 
 "Go easy on yer indoor sports, old cock." 
 
 "Talking to me?" 
 
 "Um. Hide-and-seek with Mrs. Garside's 
 all right, but what about Mrs. Trundett's 
 ornaments. Eh?" 
 
 "Well, what about 'em?" 
 
 "You smashed 'em. Bashing yer bother- 
 and-strife's 'ead against the wall, you 
 
 95
 
 T'wmkletoes 
 
 knocked 'em off Mrs. T.'s mantelpiece." 
 
 "Oh. Sorry." 
 
 "I should think so. And why don't yeh 
 wash yesself , yer twicer ? You wouldn't 'alf 
 cop it if I was yer wife." 
 
 "I bet I would. Gaw'd 'elp the bloke wot 
 marries you. Like a mouthful of ginger and 
 mustard, you are." He grinned as an amiable 
 giant might grin at a furious elf. 
 
 "Now, look 'ere, me old brown son — do 
 pull yesself together a bit. Go on. Just 
 to please me." She put her arm round his 
 chair, and did what she called her Soul's 
 Awakening business. 
 
 "Oh, chuck it. Gwan away. Don' look 
 at me like that, or, 'fore I know where I am, 
 I shall be going to work." He shuddered. 
 • "Well, why don't yeh ? 'Tain't the gamx, 
 y'know. Pretty to watch, sir, pretty to 
 watch. But knocking the old thing about 
 like that. . . . Apart from Next-door's 
 ornaments. You are a slacking old perisher 
 — reely you are." 
 
 96
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 "Gaw!" he chuckled, "don't the nippers 
 talk to yeh, now? Wonder what I'd a-got 
 if I'd talked to grown-ups like what you talk 
 to me. You kids are getting too 'ot. You 
 wanter bit o' strap. 'At's what you want." 
 
 "Wouldn't do me no good, old man. 
 Might do you good, though. Go on — give 
 us a kiss. And then give the ol' woman a 
 kiss. And make it up with old Trundett. 
 'E ain't 'alf mad about 'is ornaments." 
 
 "What? That little bald-'eaded sardine? 
 Why, I could eat 'im with 'alf me mouth. 
 Well, nev' mind. 'Ere's yer kiss, little Pot- 
 o'-mustard. And we'll see what happens o' 
 Sat'd'y. If that thing I've backed comes 
 'ome, I'll give the oF missis a fair treat. I 
 will. I'll— I'll take 'er to the Quayside. 
 And then we'll 'ave some fish-and-chips at 
 Rosen's, There! That good 'nough for 
 yer?" 
 
 "Old man Garside — you're a cracker. 
 S'long." 
 
 She passed out and through the Lane, 
 
 97
 
 liwinkletoes 
 
 "Bless 'er lovely 'eart," mumbled a tooth- 
 less old dame, whose eyes carried a twinkle 
 reflective of good days gone. There's a 
 bleeding little saint for yeh, if ever Gawd 
 made one." 
 
 From the cottages she went to Chinatown, 
 where strolled or loitered the furtive Chinks. 
 London's yellow streak — Limehouse Cause- 
 way and Pennyfields — is severed by the wide, 
 flat West India Dock Road. Its quality is 
 tasted before you reach it — the tang of 
 spices, bilge-water, tarred ropes; the flavor 
 of drugging flowers. It is just a quayside; 
 a resting-place for sea-wanderers; and it 
 holds that indefinable atmosphere of impend- 
 ing arrivals and departures. 
 
 Once a year the cold heart of the Orient 
 makes merry, and it rings with the noise of 
 revelry inflamed by Moi-kwee-lo, a gin dis- 
 tilled from rice and flavored with rose leaves 
 and remote Asiatic buds. The Causeway is 
 fully iUuminated, throwing antic shadows 
 from those who dance and frolic at the Feast 
 
 98
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 of the Lanterns. Color and movement 
 arrive; the adventurous uncertainty of 
 shadow ; mists ; and unapproachable windows 
 of many tones gleaming inscrutable mes- 
 sages. The sinister clashes with the silver- 
 pensive. Always there are following feet: 
 the firm feet of the constable; the bullying 
 boots of the tough ; the thick steps that trickle 
 from the bars; and through all the whisper 
 of slippers, and the rustling vocabularies of 
 the Pacific. 
 
 Barbarous voices are raised, with appealing 
 pipes of uncertain pitch, solemn gongs, and 
 crackling fireworks. Musicians squat on 
 tables, their proficient fingers fluttering over 
 the strings of guitars like buttei*fiies over 
 honeyed flowers. They play apparently 
 without a sense of time, but listening care- 
 fully one discovers that they take a few notes, 
 juggle with them, and give them a certain 
 twist and spin which creates form. Yang- 
 yow, yang-yow go the instruments, and Hao 
 ye to! go the nasal voices, and Moh-li-Hwa! 
 
 99
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 The shuttered aspect of the quarter never 
 affrighted Twinkletoes. She held that she 
 could put any old joker in his place; and she 
 frequently did. Too, she knew the Chinese, 
 and their kindly M^ays; she had nothing to 
 fear from them. It was the scrofulous 
 Malays of the quarter who menaced young 
 children, and these she fixed with a careful 
 eye when they passed her. 
 
 She walked boldly into the corner stores, 
 chi-iked the boys who were hanging about 
 the counter, and bought some suey-sen and 
 lon-gans. While they were being packed 
 she trotted round the shop, with its dried 
 seaweed, dried strips of fish and duck, and 
 bitter fruits, pulling down tins, examining 
 everything that looked interesting, and 
 climbing a ladder to the colored packets on 
 the high shelves. The elegantly mustached 
 proprietor looked fondly at her, and mur- 
 mured: "Pao-pei!" 
 
 When the parcel was ready she departed 
 with it to the little white cafe in the Cause- 
 
 100
 
 'Twinkletoes 
 
 way. "Must 'ave some grub," she assured 
 herself. "Do you suffer from that sinking 
 feeling? If so, send a postcard to Quong 
 Sum." She mounted to the upper chamber, 
 and seated herself unabashed among the oily 
 seamen and the flusey white girls, who were 
 teaching them the English language of 
 physical love. 
 
 "Ao! Baitho!" the waiter sang to her, and 
 she replied with: 
 
 "Wow-wow, old cock!" 
 
 With chop-sticks busily moving, she 
 swallowed a couple of noodles and a chop- 
 suey and a dish of chow-chow, and then 
 lingered over her tea and dried chrysanthe- 
 mum buds, luxuriously puffing a cigarette. 
 
 The sing-song girls looked at her uncom- 
 fortably. They knew her, and were a little 
 afraid of her. She said and did such out- 
 rageous things for one so young; yet they 
 felt that she was good, while wondering 
 whether she were not secretly of the breed of 
 themselves; and they could never be sure 
 
 101
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 of her; never, by any means, come at the 
 truth for fear of being snubbed with horror 
 of their questionings and behavior, of hear- 
 ing their own minds and habits cut to pieces. 
 They decided that she was best left alone. 
 She was very sure of herself; lived only by 
 her own laws — whatever they might be — and 
 held and expressed independent opinions. 
 
 After her meal she went through the bead 
 curtain to the kitchen, and sat among the 
 cooking boys and talked to them in London- 
 Chinese. 
 
 " 'Ow goes ol fella-chap? All right?" 
 
 "Yeh. Ollight." 
 
 "You do heap plenty business to-day?" 
 
 "Yeh. Good. Heap tied. Plen binnizez." 
 
 "Make lot money?" 
 
 *'Ho no. Not mek lot mully." 
 
 "Garn. You make heap more money'n 
 Sing See in Pennyfields." 
 
 They shook their heads in slow deprecation. 
 
 "Sing See mek heap lot mully. We mek 
 heap tied. No mek mully." 
 
 102
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 "Gam — chuck it. Say. Want tea-pot. 
 Tea-pot. All same baby cradle. You know." 
 She pointed to a tea-pot on a shelf, sunk in 
 a wicker basket lined with soft cushions. 
 " 'Ow much?" 
 
 "Twenny silling sispeh, my de-ah mess." 
 
 "No can." 
 
 "Fifteen silling." 
 
 "No can. Give five shilling." 
 
 "Ollight, my de-ah mess, I tek." 
 
 "Good. You come see me to-night Quay- 
 side? See me dance?" 
 
 "No can. No mully." 
 
 "No want money. Me give ticket. See? 
 Me give this. You come?" 
 
 "Ollight. I ken. You vay lice gel." 
 
 "Yes. Me very fine, eh? You thmk me 
 pretty girl?" 
 
 "Owr. Vay pleh gel." 
 
 "Then that's that," said Twinkletoes, as 
 she gathered her bargain tea-pot under her 
 arm. "Good-bye, Serene Little Father Of 
 Beautiful Children. Me see you to-night. 
 
 103
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 You hear me sing-dance." 
 
 "Yeh. Goo'pye!" 
 
 She flitted down the stairs. "Some pot! 
 Won't the old man be pleased?" 
 
 In East India Dock Road she ran against 
 a bandsman who had been dismissed from 
 the Quayside for faulty time-keeping, the 
 fundamental cause being the distance from 
 the Blue Lantern to the Quayside. 
 
 '"Ullo, flutey! Got the needle? You 
 ain't looking gay." 
 
 "Don't feel gay, neither. Ain't 'ad one 
 to-day." 
 
 "Well, let's take the glad road. Right 
 here. Come on. I know you're up against 
 it. 'Ave this with me." 
 
 They entered the Porcupine, and she 
 bought him a Guinness. 
 
 "You sixteen?" asked the barmaid. 
 
 "Me? Rather. Turned sixteen." 
 
 "H'm. All right." 
 
 "You liar!" murmured the bandsman. 
 
 The bar was full of yellow boys, and, 
 
 104
 
 l! winkle toes 
 
 depositing her tea-pot, Twinkletoes soon had 
 a penny in the electric piano, which gurgled 
 and throbbed an inviting melody. " 'Ave 
 a dance, old son!" 
 
 "No. Not here. Not among these 
 toughs.'* 
 
 "They're all right." She turned and ogled 
 the crowd deliciously, and made a grimace 
 at her guest, which set him giggling in spite 
 of himself. Then she held entreating arms 
 to one of the yellow boys, and he came for- 
 ward and allowed her to teach him intricate 
 steps. 
 
 " 'Ave 'nother, old son?" she cried to the 
 bandsman as she waltzed. 
 
 "Righto. Guinness, please. 'Ere'sfun!'* 
 
 " 'Appy days, old boy!" 
 
 When the piano ceased she returned to 
 him. "Can't think how you can mix up with 
 that gang. They're not — you know — some- 
 thing about 'em." 
 
 "Oh, they're all right. They're nice and 
 kind. I don't care if they are batters, other- 
 
 105
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 wise. I like batters. People don't bat unless 
 they've some reason. Unless they've been 
 through something. They can't get the best 
 so they take the next best thing. And I 
 don't blame 'em. We only live once. And 
 there's one thing about 'em. They are alive. 
 They wouldn't be batters if they weren't 
 alive. It's only the dull old fools who can't 
 feel nothing who don't bat. Go on — drink up 
 and 'ave another. Like my new stockings?" 
 
 Back in Shantung Place she set the tea-pot 
 proudly on the kitchen table where Dad 
 would see it when he returned. 
 
 Then she went upstairs to the little bed- 
 room. She lit a joss-stick which smouldered 
 and filled the room with unnameable things 
 of the East, and tenderly placed in the bottle 
 a fresh bunch of violets. She knelt before 
 them, with hands together, and prayed; not 
 set prayers such as the religious ones pray, 
 but the little thoughts that dared not lift 
 their heads in the harsh world of necessity. 
 Little hopes and fears and fancies which she 
 
 106
 
 'Twinkleloes 
 
 could not speak to living things would rise 
 in her heart and hover upon her lips in those 
 few moments when she communed with her 
 flowers; and it was as though she caught 
 from them something of their quality of 
 armored innocence. She could tell them 
 even the silliest things. 
 
 She told them what had happened to her 
 during the day. She asked them to be quick 
 and set old Mrs. Toplady right. She asked 
 them to contrive somehow to send the 
 Jenkins' kid to the seaside. She asked them 
 to stop old Garside's drinkings, and incident- 
 ally to let the horse that Garside had backed 
 come home on Saturday. She asked them 
 to bless old Dad, and Chuck Lightfoot, and 
 young Perce, and the girls she worked with; 
 and she begged them to help her to dance 
 better and to get a good "hand" that night. 
 
 Then she got up and stumped her toe 
 against the wash-stand and cried: "Suffer- 
 ing Jesus! What d'you do that for?" and 
 kicked the wash-stand sharply. She shed 
 
 107
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 frock and petticoat and stays, carefully 
 combed and brushed her curls, and did a few 
 spontaneous exercises with arms and legs. 
 She stretched an impetuous leg taut in front 
 of her. 
 
 "Some leg, Twinks!" she remarked ap- 
 preciatively. It pleased her. She possessed 
 very strongly the joy and pride of body; it 
 was rapture for her to move her limbs. She 
 gazed at it for a minute. 
 
 "Three pounds a week. And all out of a 
 leg. Rum things — legs." 
 
 She washed legs and feet again and 
 dressed, mumbling a cigarette. She shook a 
 Chinese scent of pungent odor about her 
 person, and looked for a coat. She chose the 
 black velvet one, slipped into it, and threw 
 her yellow tresses, which ran to her waist, 
 outside it. The great envelope made her 
 almost unbearably cuddleable, gave her the 
 appeal of all young furred animals. 
 
 Downstairs she routed in a cupboard for 
 a drop of Do-me-Good ; she found only gin. 
 
 108
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 She sprawled on the sofa, and took a glass of 
 it, and was then ready for her flying visit to 
 the works. 
 
 Dad was laboring and swearing cheerfully 
 in the Works when Chuck dropped in at 
 about five o'clock. 
 
 "Ah. There y'are, old son. Come down- 
 stairs, will yeh? Want a word wi' yeh? 
 Seen young Perce anywhere?" 
 
 "Nope." 
 
 " 'E ain't bin 'ere the last day or two. 
 Thought 'e might be sick. I'll pop round 
 t'night." 
 
 They went below, and Dad stroked his 
 nose. 
 
 "Chuck — I'm thinking of finishing the 
 down-stairs' biz." 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "Yerss. It's bin 'urting me for some 
 time, now. All the time, reely. And I 
 fancy it's getting a bit warm. The Prince 
 
 109
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 sent round t'other day for a special job, but 
 I turned 'im down. I've done all right on 
 this, but when it comes to big things I'm a 
 False Alarm. Matter o' fac', I'm thinking 
 of quitting at once." 
 
 "Well, now No, but . . ." 
 
 "See, Chuck, y'know why I *ad to take 
 it on. But she's all right now. She's got 
 a contract. And I'm through. She needn't 
 never look back, now." 
 
 "Huh. And me?" 
 
 "Well, I dunno. You bin a good chap. 
 'Ere — why not quit, too? Why not go 
 back? Why not run straight. I'm going 
 to. Alwis thought you was a fool to drop 
 Battling." 
 
 "I didn't. 'E dropped me. Drink." 
 
 "Wodyeh want to go on it for, at all? 
 You didn't use to." 
 
 "Oh, you know all about it." 
 
 "Yerss. Funny 'ow she gets you that 
 way, ain't it?'* 
 
 "Um. I feel a fair shyster, going the 
 
 110
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 way I've gorn. But there ain't nothing else 
 fer me. I can't get back to the training 
 game. Battling wouldn't 'ave me nor no 
 one else. They don't trust me. I'm un- 
 certain. You're all right. You got the biz 
 —the straight biz. But it ain't any use me 
 trying anything else. I got to keep on this 
 lay. I'm out." 
 
 "Great pity," said Dad sententiously. 
 "Great pity. Funny she got you that 
 way." 
 
 "Um. Well, there y'are. 'Taint no use 
 my trying. No one'd give me a chance. And, 
 as things were, there wasn't nothing for me 
 but the booze. You can't never know 'ow I 
 felt about 'er. Me, older and married. And 
 'er, so — so. . . . But there y'are. I've got 
 to stick it. Married to that blasted cow, 
 Cissie, too." 
 
 "Great pity. Wish I could do some- 
 thing." 
 
 "Oh, it don't matter, guv'nor. I'm out. 
 I can work other jobs on the same lay as this 
 
 111
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 one. There's plenty about who want stuff 
 placed. . . ." 
 
 "Say — you won't ever let on, will yeh? 
 Case it ever came round to 'er?" 
 
 "Blinkin' cats — wodyeh take me for?" 
 
 " 'Sail right, boy. On'y y 'understand, 
 now I'm going to run straight, 'ow nervy I 
 feel. What'd she think o' me if she ever 
 knew? When I think what she'd say and 
 'ow she'd look, it frightens me, Chuck. Fair 
 frightens me. Alwis 'as. All the time I 
 bin at it. Dunno 'ow I've lived through 
 these yers. Playing a part, I bin. Playing 
 up to 'er, and being gay and all that — letting 
 'er go on thinking I'm the straight feller 
 she's alwis thought me. And the snide game 
 at the back all the time." 
 
 "Trust me, guv'nor. I wouldn't do 
 nothing that'd 'urt 'er ever so. See you at 
 the Lantern, t'night. S'long." 
 
 112
 
 VI 
 
 CHUCK," sad Dad at the Works a 
 few days later, "come round to- 
 night and 'ave a bit o' supper? 
 It's Twinks' birthday. Sixteen to-day. I'll 
 get the boys along. She'll be orf just after 
 eleven. She wants you to come." 
 
 Chuck looked wretched at the invitation, 
 but he accepted it. He had not the courage 
 to refuse ; yet his heart sank at the prospect 
 of seeing Twinldetoes, as outrageously 
 happy as a street organ on a wet evening, 
 presiding as hostess at a table where he sat, 
 yet a thousand miles distant from him. 
 
 "Awright. I'll come along," he replied. 
 
 Dad had previously left instructions with 
 Twinkletoes to lay in a spread for her feast, 
 and to arrange for the boys. 
 
 "Get some sausages — or something that 
 cooks easy and looks nice. And you can 
 get some pease pudden to go with 'em round 
 at Abrahams'. And get some whisky for 
 the Prince. 'E don't touch beer. And some 
 
 113
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 wine for yesself. And 'ow about a little 
 bottle o' Benedictine? We got a clean 
 table-cloth, ain't we? And you can borrow 
 some things from Mrs. Next-door if we ain't 
 got everything. What about cheese? Bet- 
 ter get some. And some fruit and biscuits. 
 And don't be all day about it, neether. Mrs. 
 Next-door'U give yer a hand. Get it all 
 ready 'fore yeh go." 
 
 "Righto. You won't start 'fore I'm 
 back, will yeh?" 
 
 "Wodyeh take us for, yeh little snorter? 
 I 'ope we know manners. Start before the 
 lady? The moment you puts yer nose 
 round the door I'll 'ave the sausages into the 
 pan and on the fire. See? And light the 
 Annie- Maria in the front room 'fore yeh 
 go." 
 
 "Good Ggg. But if I got to set all these 
 things, what about it?" 
 
 "What about what?" 
 
 "Well, you'll 'ave to make a noise like 
 
 money, that's all." 
 
 114
 
 'Twinkletoes 
 
 "Oh, well." He dug his hand in his 
 pocket, and scattered a mass of silver over 
 the table. "There y'are. And I 'ope we 
 shall enjoy ourselves, bless yer little rasp- 
 berry-tart." 
 
 He clasped her impulsively, and they 
 danced an impromptu waltz. 
 
 "Good old ]3ot," she cried, hitching a 
 finger at her garter to straighten a creased 
 stocking. "We'll set 'em alight. We'll daub 
 the ruby on Shantung Place to-night. Who 
 you asking?" 
 
 "Oh, the Prince and the Dook and one or 
 two others." 
 
 "And Chuck?" 
 
 "Yes, I'll ask 'im." 
 
 "Yes, get Chuck along." 
 
 "And you'll bring oner two o' your gels, I 
 s'pose?" 
 
 "I dessay." 
 
 "Then you better get some chocolates or 
 sweets or something for 'em. Bye-bye.'* 
 
 Twinkletoes spent the morning in shop- 
 
 115
 
 ^wmkletoes 
 
 ping, and Mrs. Next-door in cleaning, so that 
 by evening the front room was ready for the 
 guests. The table was spread with a clean 
 cloth. A cluster of violets stood in a jam- 
 jar at the centre. A bright fire was burning 
 and on the plush-covered sideboard were 
 bottles that promised the uplifting of the 
 spirit. The front room was comfortable, 
 though furnished impulsively and with a 
 nice disregard for schemes. The piano, set 
 diagonally, occupied one corner. On the 
 floor in other corners were an accordion, a 
 mandolin, and tattered piles of music and 
 books. A couple of aspidistras were set in 
 the window. The mantelshelf and walls 
 were decorated with framed and unframed 
 photographs of Twinkletoes. Wherever you 
 looked you sawheriTwinkletoes as a toddler; 
 Twinkletoes in silk coat and lace hat; 
 Twinkletoes in her indoor frock and pina- 
 fore, reading; Tvrinkletoes in furs; Twinkle- 
 toes buried in brown velvet; Twinkletoes 
 robed only in a towel; Twinkletoes as a 
 
 116
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 pantomime fairy; Twinkletoes in an early 
 Victorian ballet; Twinkletoes as Maud 
 Allan; Twinkletoes in white silk and Scotch 
 kilt ; Twinkletoes as a winter spirit, as a sum- 
 mer spirit, as the voice of Spring, her slim 
 body swathed only in ropes of roses; 
 Twinkletoes in studies which still further 
 accentuated her emphatic legs ; and every one 
 shoA^ing the essential Twinkletoes posed as 
 for flight, resting on air. Even the cameras 
 of Poplar could not ignore her urgent ap- 
 peal. A few staid etchings — her own buying 
 — hung here and there, though they were 
 killed by reproductions of pictures of other 
 little girls bought by Dad. He detested 
 boj'^s, but loved all little girls: each was to 
 him a shadow of T^dnkletoes. 
 
 At half -past eleven she arrived from the 
 theatre with two of the Quayside girls. Dad 
 opened the door to them, and bolted into 
 the kitchen, leaving them to close it. 
 
 *'I kep' me promise," he shouted. "I've 
 got 'em on. 'Ear 'em sizzling?" 
 
 117
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 Twinkletoes sniffed voluptuously. "Smells 
 good," she remarked, as they flung coats and 
 hats on a chair in the passage. She swept 
 into the front room, and £ound the gentlemen 
 guests: The Pearly Prince, Dick the Duke, 
 fat little Wallopy and Chuck Lightfoot, 
 smoking cigarettes and talking discursively. 
 They ended abruptly on two words from 
 Chuck: "No shop, boys." 
 
 " 'Ullo, sweet children!" she cried. Then 
 to the girls: "All the lads of the village." 
 And again to the men: "Two of my rorty 
 pals." She smiled amiably upon them. The 
 Pearly Prince and Dick the Duke were 
 uncles to her. They were, she understood, 
 boxers, as indeed they were when nothing 
 more lucrative presented itself. Wallopy she 
 knew as a one-time shopkeeper who had been 
 left a small annuity by a relative, and there- 
 fore was not compelled to do any regular 
 work. 
 
 The Prince, who, at the moment they 
 entered, was one of the Poplar boys, did his 
 
 118
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 quick-change act and became the polished 
 man of the West End bars. While the others 
 remained seated, he rose. "Take my chair, 
 kiddie," he said gracefully to the nearest of 
 the girls, a maid of thirteen with vivid color- 
 ing and thick curls with the sheen of midnight 
 water. "Quayside Kids, I think?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered, with a blush and a 
 giggle. "And I know you. You're the 
 Pearly Prince." She looked up at him in shy 
 adoration. He received the worship gravely, 
 but the sense of humor that had carried him 
 through many tight corners awoke in a 
 deprecatory twinkle in his eye. 
 
 "Ah," he said in a tone of paternal banter. 
 "I'm just that. But I'm afraid I haven't 
 got any pearls on me. If I had I'd put 'em 
 round your pretty neck." 
 
 Little Wallopy inspected the two visitors. 
 "Quaysides, eh? Ah, I useter dance when 
 I was younger. But now " 
 
 "Yes, now," said the slim Prince. "Now 
 look at 'em. The Elephants' Gavotte. Five- 
 
 119
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 foot three, and sixteen stone if he's an ounce. 
 If you'd let me put you through it at the 
 medicine ball, now " 
 
 "No good. Too sudden. No, I ought to 
 join the Quaysides. Three dances a night 
 among the babies'd get me down to normal, 
 I reckon. Think they'd take me on, kiddie? 
 I could do the Russian business all right. 
 Lift you up and swirl you round me shoul- 
 ders — what?" 
 
 The two girls exploded into handkerchiefs, 
 and then Twinks and Dad entered with an 
 improbably huge dish of sausages, pease 
 pudding and mashed potatoes. 
 
 "You and Dad ought to go on together, 
 Wallopy," said Twinkletoes. "Simultane- 
 ous comedians. The Brothers Wallopy with 
 their Floppety Feet. There's money in it. 
 You'd be making a noise like a cash register 
 in no time." 
 
 "Now, come on," cried Dad. "Here's the 
 Aws Doov. Sit down, boys and gels, and 
 do things to 'em." They arranged them- 
 
 120
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 selves at the table while Wallopy took the 
 bar under his control. 
 
 "Wine? Wine? Who's on wine?" 
 
 He planked a glass of Sauterne before the 
 Prince's shy worshipper. 
 
 "There y'are, dear. Go on — smile for the 
 pretty gentleman." 
 
 "Oh, don't, Mr— Mr " 
 
 "I'm not mister. Do I look as if I were? 
 'Ow can an out-size in men like me be plain 
 mister? I ask you! I'm Wallopy. Just 
 Wallopy. Go on — say it after me: 'Thank 
 you, Wallopy, for the assiduous manner in 
 which you have catered to my wants in the 
 matter of liquid refreshment.' Go on!" 
 
 "Thank you, Wallopy, for Oh, shut 
 
 up, you silly old fool." And again she de- 
 livered a cascade of giggles. 
 
 "I see you 'smorning, Uncle Prince," cried 
 Twinkletoes, poising a piece of sausage on a 
 fork over which she ogled him. "I see you. 
 I was on a tram, and I gave you a booty one 
 on two fingers. But you didn't get me. You 
 
 121
 
 T^zv'mkletoes 
 
 was going into the Lantern. Business, I 
 s'pose." 
 
 "Yes, it was business," said the Prince. 
 
 "Ah, I know that business." Wattlers and 
 Minesers. Seen 'em at it. Pease pudden, 
 Iris? Spuds? Shove 'em along, Chuck." 
 
 " 'Ow's the whisky. Pearly?" asked Dad. 
 
 "Top-hole." 
 
 "Ah, I thought you'd like it. A drop o' 
 special. Sammy travels in it, and 'e slipped 
 me a bottle." 
 
 "Well, get him to slip you a few more, 
 and I'll have 'em off you." 
 
 " 'Ow's the sausages, Wallopy?" 
 
 "The sausages," said Wallopy, threaten- 
 ing the giggling Iris with a dab of pease 
 pudding, "is all that sausages should be. 
 They're like me. Not much from the outside 
 but packed with good stuff inside." 
 
 "Well, we've made that dish look silly, 
 ain't we? 'Ave a bit o' cheese now. Come 
 on. Twinkle, stir yesself. Cheese." 
 When the cheese had disappeared the prec- 
 
 122
 
 'Twmkletoes 
 
 ious Benedictine was produced and shared 
 among the men. Cigars, too, were produced 
 for them, and a box of Turkish cigarettes 
 for the girls. 
 
 Wallopy's smooth lines expressed admira- 
 tion. "Cigars. Benny. Turkish cigarettes. 
 Lor, we can go it, cant we? Wish I'd got 
 married and 'ad a kid on the stage. Cigars 
 and Benny. Just by 'opping about and keep- 
 ing time with the band." 
 
 "Um," said Twinkletoes. "I'm glad I 
 was born with a leg, if only to provide 
 you with a Benny and cigars. The new 
 liquor — Crime de la Leg. When you drink 
 that Benny, you must drink to my legs. It's 
 all a matter of legs, ain't it, kids? When 
 my legs begin to go, then there'll be an end 
 of good things. All comes down to legs. 
 Faces am't no good. Look at Iris — awfully 
 jolly to look at when she's undressed, but 
 her nose ain't right. It's crooked. But if 
 you're talking of legs . . . You 'ave a look 
 at *ers when she gets up." 
 
 123
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 "Shut up, Twinks!" spluttered Iris, her 
 face burning with discomfiture at this dissec- 
 tion of her person before the aloof Prince; 
 for where Twinkletoes was fearlessly inno- 
 cent she was shamefully innocent. 
 
 "Well," said Dad, "I felt we oughter push 
 a boat out on an occasion like this. 'Tain't 
 every day that the leader of the Quayside 
 Kids 'as a birthday. 'Tain't every day that 
 Twinkletoes is sixteen." 
 
 "That's so," said Wallopy, as he clambered 
 up. "Now, boys and gels, a toast. Twinkle- 
 toes is sixteen. 'Ere's wishing 'er all she 
 wishes 'erself, and if she's as sweet and as 
 happy and as prosperous at sixty as she is at 
 sixteen, she won't 'ave nothing to grumble 
 about, eh? From the start she's made, we 
 expect great things of her, and when she's 
 got on and gorn to West End theatres, with 
 photos in all the papers, and a motor car and 
 a country 'ouse and diamonds and what-not, 
 and forgotten all about 'er old friends down 
 'ere, we shall still be proud to know that we 
 
 124
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 knew 'er when she was starting, and that we 
 drank to her — and 'er legs. Boys — I give 
 you Twinkletoes and 'er legs." 
 
 The company rose; and five of London's 
 smartest lower-grade criminals solemnly and 
 sincerely drank to the health and success of 
 the beautiful child of their colleague. 
 
 Twinkletoes giggled and kicked her legs 
 in response. 
 
 "That was a milky one!" she cried, finding 
 no suitable words to express what she felt. 
 She loved these friends of her Dad's. The 
 warm glow of their humanity and good- 
 fellowship had enriched her little life during 
 the last four years, and she had revelled in 
 them. The Pearly Prince was the high 
 example of courtesy. Wallopy was a fat old 
 thing with whom you could do and to whom 
 you could say what you liked. Dick the 
 Duke was a taciturn, rather somber indivi- 
 dual, but lit with gleams of humor; and 
 whenever Twinkletoes desired to flutter a 
 half-crown on a horse, it was to Dick that she 
 
 125
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 would go, and he always gave her something 
 that came home. 
 
 "Come on, creatures," she said, rising im- 
 pulsively, "let's get these things out and be 
 comfortable." 
 
 Dad and the three girls cleared the dishes 
 and table to the kitchen ; and while the men 
 smoked and sipped their drinks Twinkletoes 
 took her mandolin, fluttering with radiant 
 ribbons, and sat on the sofa with her com- 
 panions and made music for the light voice 
 of Iris. She played idly, mechanically, but 
 Iris, though keeping her eyes from the 
 Pearly Prince, sang always to him; and she 
 went through all the bubbly, colored melodies 
 that she knew: Dolce Napoli, Santa Lucia, 
 O sole Mio, Monaco, FunicuU-Funicula, Sur 
 les Fonts de Paris and Siciliana. 
 
 For an hour they held talk and song ; then 
 the Pearly Prince rose. "Well, better be 
 making a move, I suppose. Had a jolly 
 time, Minasi, thanks." 
 
 "Oh, glad you've enjoyed yesself." 
 
 126
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 "Not going?" asked Twinkletoes. 
 
 "Must. Quite time." 
 
 "Well, have another 'fore you go?'* 
 
 "No, I won't have another. I got to see 
 a man of business at my rooms. About that 
 fight next week." 
 
 "Oh, go on. One won't hurt you. 'Ave 
 a short snort with a sport. Else I shall play 
 rough-house with you." 
 
 "No, thanks." 
 
 "Iris — you ask him." 
 
 "Do have one, Mr. Prince.'* 
 
 "Oh, all right. You're great kids. I'll 
 have one to your bright eyes. And Twinkle- 
 toes' legs. And I hope I shall be invited to 
 your next birthday-party." 
 
 "Oh sure. And it'll be Champagne next 
 year, I hope. You never know. If they 
 want to renew my contract, I shall stick the 
 price up." 
 
 "Good. If I were young and silly enough 
 I'd marry you or Iris. But, thank God, I 
 got more sense." 
 
 127
 
 liwinkletoes 
 
 "Come on, Twinks," said Dad. "Get yer 
 'at and coat. We better see the kids 'ome. 
 It's getting late. 'Tany rate we'll see 'em 
 on their way." 
 
 They went out with much festive clatter, 
 and parted with Wallopy, the Duke and the 
 Prince at the corner, after prolonged crying 
 of farewells, remembrances, appreciations of 
 the evening and "Don't be late in the morn- 
 mg! 
 
 The girls were left at their respective 
 streets, and Dad and Twinkletoes were re- 
 turning to Shantung Place when they saw a 
 black fester of people at the gates of the 
 Galloping Horses. 
 
 Now Dad, being a man of simple tastes, 
 was always drawn by the divine simplicity 
 of a street fight. It acted on him as a red 
 rag on a bull. At such a spectacle his eyes 
 would, light, his nostrils quiver and his feet 
 dance a double-shuffle, until, unable longer 
 to remain neutral, he would charge in and 
 lend a hand to whichever party in the dispute 
 
 128
 
 'Twinkletoes 
 
 seemed to be getting the more punishment. 
 In two shakes of a guinea-pig's tail — as he 
 would have figured it — he was across the 
 road with Twinkletoes in pursuit. 
 
 The night of East India Dock Road does 
 not die on the twelfth stroke of the clock. 
 The doors of the taverns may be bolted and 
 barred; the clanging gates of the corner 
 hotels may be hurled into their sockets at 
 that hour; but the night laps well over the 
 morning to the extent of two and sometimes 
 three hours, and often its mournful echoes 
 will disturb the dawn. Impromptu concerts 
 are given; insults grow precociously to 
 blows ; impromptu vows of eternal comrade- 
 ship are sworn ; and life-long friendships are 
 shattered in a space of moments. 
 
 From the heart of the crowd came a lone 
 cry in those accents that carry the wail of 
 Western Ireland: 
 
 " Arr now, but he called me wife a porker." 
 
 "No, but 'e's 'pologised," protested the 
 crowd. 
 
 129
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 The Man of Seven Sorrows and the wail- 
 ing voice was invisible, but it was evident 
 from his articulation that he was engaged in 
 a physical contest. 
 
 "Lemme be, will ye now, lemme be I 
 Lemme get to him." 
 
 " 'Old 'im back, there!" 
 
 "We can't 'old 'im back no longer." 
 
 The loungers parted in a panic, their feet 
 chattering along the pavement as the 
 struggler broke loose from the restraining 
 arms. Old Dad, worming his way to the 
 front, obtained a clear view of the contes- 
 tants: an outraged Irishman and a little 
 scraggy man who was too patently drunk to 
 be worth lighting. A dented bowler hat was 
 riding on his left ear. He swayed. He 
 looked always at the Irishman, and seemed 
 struggling to repress a smile. But appar- 
 ently the thought of the physical proportions 
 of the other chap's wife was too appealing to 
 be resisted. 
 
 "Porker!" he murmured, and figured the 
 
 130
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 word to the crowd with extended arms as of 
 one embracing a barrel. 
 
 The husband was alert, sober and angry. 
 His friends had drawn away from him. It 
 was useless to hold him back. Their faces 
 carried the weariness and despair of those 
 who have failed where they expected to 
 fail. 
 
 The drunk, finding himself popular, fixed 
 a banana skin in his buttonhole. "Ta' 'ome 
 to missus," he explained. He essayed a 
 graceful dance. He asked his audience how, 
 while not wishing to be offensive, anyone 
 could describe old Flanagan's wife as other 
 than a por 
 
 Then he sat suddenly down, and Twink' ?- 
 toes, peering under shoulders and through 
 chinks in the crowd, had great joy of her 
 glimpses of the comedy. 
 
 From one of the lurking alleys came a 
 cold, insistent voice. The drunk heard it. 
 Thoughtfully he began to unlace his boots. 
 Through the chuckling audience came a 
 
 131
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 strenuous figure, hatless. She gathered her 
 intoxicated man by the collar and shook 
 him. 
 
 The aggrieved husband moved forward. 
 "That's right," he said; "take him away. 
 He's bin insulting me wife, he has, and he 
 can think himself lucky I didn't do things to 
 him. But I didn't. 'Cos he's drunk. Quite 
 drunk." 
 
 Then the comedy took a new turn. At 
 the word "drunk" the little man broke from 
 his wife's clutch. His lips parted for speech, 
 but none came. He looked around to dis- 
 cover the slanderer. He saw the Irishman 
 standing before him. He staggered forward 
 and struck him forcefully on the mouth with 
 his fist. The astonished victim stepped back. 
 He put his hand to his mouth. 
 
 "All, now, ye will have it for that!" And 
 they closed. 
 
 "Separate *em! Separate 'em!" cried those 
 on the outer ring, crying with the more vigor 
 
 since their position ruled them out as possible 
 
 132
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 volunteers. Many windows creaked and 
 opened. Through them were thrust heads 
 towzled with the pillow but alight with in- 
 terest. The men swayed and slithered and 
 swung. When the wife of the drunk sailed 
 in to hamper her husband's burly opponent 
 she was put out bj'^ an elbow in the breast. 
 She staggered with it to the crowd, which 
 echoed her gasp in little ripples. A lamp 
 on an opposite corner threw a half-hearted 
 illumination. Here and there a cigarette 
 glowed like an evil eye. 
 
 "Why don' someone separate 'em?" 
 
 "Who's got a whistle?" 
 
 "See that? Right on the nose. Look — 
 'e's biting 'is 'and." 
 
 A woman wailed. "Stop 'em, cancher? 
 Call j'-esselves men? They're killing one 
 another. Eu! 'E's banging 'is 'ead on the 
 pavement. Eu! I can't look." 
 
 Dad moistened his hands. He looked 
 round for Twinkletoes. Said Dad: "Your 
 little pot-and-pan is about fed up on this. 
 
 133
 
 Twiijkletoes 
 
 You stop 'ere, old Gawd-forbid, and don't 
 you dare move. Out of the way, there !" 
 
 He lifted up his voice, and it was a voice 
 worth lifting. At the very sound of his 
 roared command those in front dropped back. 
 "Stan' away, I tell yeh!" 
 
 He was inside the ring. His sympathies 
 went at once to the drunk, and it was at the 
 Irishman's collar that he sprang. He got 
 an arm-lock, and drew his man steadily back. 
 "Someone keep the little 'un off," he com- 
 manded. Two or three made a dash and 
 secured the little 'un. 
 
 Then the fight ended. The banana skin, 
 hanging loosely from the little 'un's button- 
 hole, dropped to the ground. Straining 
 backward, Dad dug his heels into the wooden 
 roadway for a purchase. At the third step 
 he struck the banana skin, slipped, and fell, 
 and remained prone and motionless, eyes 
 closed. 
 
 Twinkletoes gave a little scream and rolled 
 her hands in her frock. She tried to get to 
 
 134
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 Dad, but the crowd was winding into itself. 
 Oh, Dad! He was hurt — perhaps killed. 
 And this was her birthday. Why had she 
 let him do it? Why hadn't she pulled him 
 away? 
 
 The audience hummed. Women gave little 
 gasps and turned away. Those at the back, 
 who could not see, said: "Police!" "Doctor!" 
 Those nearest, after a satisfying stare, turned 
 away, or approached fearfully and retreated 
 fearfully. A woman's voice from an upper 
 window cried: "Whassup?" and this gave an 
 opportunity to some to escape decently. 
 They went to her. Five different voices 
 grated harshly on the night, crj^ing five 
 different versions. She was a strong woman, 
 but, being half asleep, she made no attempt 
 to follow the plots of five involved romances, 
 and the window went down with the rickety 
 rattle. 
 
 "Well, that's all over," said the usual 
 philosopher. " 'E's gorn. Standing and 
 staring won't bring 'im back, will it? But 
 
 135
 
 'Tzvinkletoes 
 
 'e's a blasted 'ero. That's what 'e is. And 
 a damn fool." 
 
 The two opponents forgot their quarrel. 
 The drunk grabbed his wife's arm, the Irish- 
 man took his other arm, and they disap- 
 peared in amity, all differences wiped out by 
 the new tragedy. 
 
 At last the crowd had thinned sufficiently 
 to enable Twinkletoes to wriggle through. 
 She dashed into the ring towards the pros- 
 trate and lifeless Dad, but, as she pounced 
 upon him, he made one swift movement and 
 was on his feet. He shook himself and 
 looked with a grin at Twinkletoes, white, 
 trembling and fearful. 
 
 "That's that," he said. 
 
 "Oh, Dad, I thought you was 'urt. I 
 thought you was killed." 
 
 "Me 'urt? Garn. Take a lot o' that to 
 'urt m.e." 
 
 "Then you're all right?" 
 
 "Absolutely." 
 
 Her face broke into ripples of laughter as 
 
 136
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 he toddled away at her side. "I done it 
 apurpose," he went on. "Y'see, they was 
 getting bad-tempered like, and might do one 
 another a injury. And I couldn't 'ave 'eld 
 that Irish bloke back fer long. So when I 
 slipped I thought I'd stay down an' give 'em 
 a shock. Soon's anyone's 'urt, y'know, a 
 fight alwis stops. You'll notice that." 
 
 Twinkletoes gurgled and looked up at him. 
 "Oo, Dad. I've alwis said you was wonder- 
 ful, and blimey, j'^ou are. You're the fair 
 top-liner. Oo, I am glad. I made sure you 
 was 'urt. . . . What a birthday! Your 
 present was good, and the supper was fine, 
 and the boys were all jolly; but this little 
 crush 'as put the lid on everything. Grand 
 finale with augmented orchestra. I believe 
 you arranged it specially, 'cos it was my 
 birthday. Did you?" 
 
 Dad chuckled non-committallv. 
 
 "You reely are a marvellous old man." 
 
 "Well, kid, I on'y 'ope every other birth- 
 day '11 be as jolly, and that you'll enjoy 'em 
 
 137
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 when you're seventy as much as you 'ave this 
 
 one." 
 
 "Me too. Oo — ain't people and things 
 lovelyT 
 
 138
 
 VII 
 
 THE Blue Lantern bar was happy : all 
 its friends were there — that little band 
 of pilgrims that lived in the East and 
 worshipped in the West. Its doors flapped 
 back and forth, emitting great gasps of festal 
 noise. The Pearly Prince was there, tall and 
 vibrant, resplendent in blue serge. Dick the 
 Duke was there, in a suit of noisy grey, with 
 rings and chains about his person. L/ittle 
 Wallopy was there, in a fawn coat and Robin 
 Redbreast waistcoat, and Chuck Lightfoot, 
 quiet and neat, a muffler about his throat. 
 The indecently ragged Hank crouched in his 
 accustomed corner. 
 
 When Divisional Detective-Inspector 
 Territon entered in mufti, with an air of 
 careful detachment, he was greeted with non- 
 committal nods. 
 
 "AVanting me?" asked the Prince. 
 
 "Not yet, me boy. But I'll plant a few 
 commas in your story 'fore long, if not a full 
 stop." 
 
 139
 
 'T'winkletoes 
 
 "Ah, we'll see about that." 
 
 Territon ordered a beer and placed him- 
 self next Hank Hogan. 
 
 "Well, how's thmgs, Hank?" he asked, 
 with superior familiarity. 
 
 "Oh, mustn't grumble." 
 
 "Have one?" 
 
 "I don' mind. Same again." 
 
 Dickery-Dock came forward with elephan- 
 tine obsequiousness at sight of Territon and 
 served the drinks. He and the crowd looked 
 askance at one another, speculating as to the 
 cause of this visit. 
 
 "Went up to the Quayside," Territon 
 A^olunteered, "last night. T'see that kid of 
 Minasi's. Twinkletoes, don't they call her?" 
 
 "Ar." 
 
 "Fine kid. Wonderful kid. Minasi's a 
 great chap too." 
 
 "Ar." 
 
 "Great chap. How's he doing now? Do- 
 ing well, ain't he?" 
 
 "I dunno. I see 'im in 'ere sometimes." 
 
 140
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 "He ought to be doing well. What with 
 the business and what that kid of his makes. 
 She's a marvel. Fair marvel. What'd you 
 reckon he makes ?" 
 
 "Couldn't tell yeh. I know I ain't making 
 anything. If it wasn't for me Old Age Pen- 
 sion I'd be in a fair old mess-up." 
 
 "M'm. Pity. But you've had a good run, 
 eh?" 
 
 "Ar." 
 
 "Will Minasi be in here to-night? I want 
 to see him rather special." 
 
 "Dunno." 
 
 Territon inspected Hank, and Hank re- 
 ceived the scrutiny without a flicker. 
 "Hank," he said at length, "you know every- 
 thing what goes on. Do you know anything 
 about his die-stamping business?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "Have you ever wondered why he does so 
 well?" 
 
 " 'Tain't none of my biz to wonder about 
 other people's. I'm wondering aboutmeown." 
 
 141
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 "Well, I tell you straight. I got the wire 
 about him yesterday. I've had the office. 
 Never mind how. Now where I'm a bit un- 
 certain " He paused, fearing he had 
 
 said too much. 
 
 Hank said "Ar" impressively. "Seems to 
 me," he went on, "that yer wasting yer beer 
 and j^er time. What th'ell d'yeh think I 
 know about Minasi ? I ain't a blasted nark, 
 ami?" 
 
 "No, but ... I like Minasi. And I 
 thought you might have heard." 
 
 Hank's face took the tinge of his hair. 
 His voice rose to an indignant squeak. "An' 
 if I 'ad? Eh! An' if I 'ad? If you want 
 a blasted nark, don't come to me, guv'nor. 
 See? Don't come to me. If yeh wants lies, 
 I'll tell yeh plenty. A dozen t'every 'alf-pint. 
 But that's all I can tell yeh about Minasi. 
 'Cos I don't know nothing. See?" He 
 turned his back on him and impolitely 
 ignored him. 
 
 Territon grinned ruefully, yet apprecia- 
 
 142
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 tively. "You're a deep 'un, Hank. Deep 
 as thejr make 'em. I suppose I sha'n't never 
 get you. But I got Minasi all right. Any 
 time now. And I'll have the Prince and the 
 Dook 'fore they're much older. I give yeh 
 my word. I'll hand them theirs, sure 
 enough." 
 
 He drank up and went away, followed by 
 contemptuous stares. 
 
 "Every time I see that bloke," said the 
 Pearly Prince, "I get the fidgets in me boot. 
 Some day I sha'n't be able to resist it." 
 
 "Old 'Ank told 'im orf all right," said the 
 Duke. "What was 'e on, 'Ank?" 
 
 "Oh, I d'no. Some guff about a girl — 
 one of the hop- joint girls and flapdoodle of 
 that sort." 
 
 "Oh. Thought it might 'ave been on our 
 lay." 
 
 "Oh no," said Hank. "No." 
 
 Hank had gained high reputation in the 
 Lantern district where reputations are 
 achieved with difficulty. He was held to be 
 
 143
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 as moral as a tom-cat, the pink of impro- 
 priety. He carefully nourished this legend 
 of an oblique career; it brought drinks; and 
 he went about crying through his manner: 
 "I'm a bad man, that's what I am. I'm a bad 
 man." Only he and a few chosen friends 
 knew that the legend was spurious. He had 
 done nothing more daring than a little 
 pocket-picking in his youth. He was one of 
 the sweetest, kindest and most faithful of 
 comrades : the confidant of the district. His 
 headquarters was the Lantern, and thither 
 men would go when troubles beset them. 
 
 Far behind him was a story. In his youth 
 he had met a girl connected with one of the 
 thousand religious missions that infest the 
 Limehouse ways. He developed a passion 
 for the Word, but his yearning for the 
 intangible glories of the life to come had its 
 foundation in something very near to this 
 world. He worshipped this mission-girl; 
 and she, finding that he only attended meet- 
 ings when she was there, and only listened 
 
 144
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 to the Word as preached or sung by herself, 
 came regularly to preach and to sing and to 
 expound privately to him the mysteries and 
 wonders of the faith she held. To her he 
 listened. He sat at her feet and believed 
 everything, simply because she said that it 
 was so. About the streets he would follow 
 her, never approaching within uncomfortable 
 distance, but hanging, as it were, about her, 
 that he might, if ever the need arose, be there 
 to succor her. 
 
 When she was prevented, by slight illness 
 or other preoccupation, from attending the 
 mission, he returned to the Lantern; and 
 she quickly saw that if one soul had been 
 snatched from the pestilence, it was she and 
 she alone who could retain it. 
 
 One night, when she had been absent from 
 three meetings, she met him staggering from 
 the Lantern ; and she stopped him, and gave 
 him a look such as he had never seen on any 
 face before. Late that night he went to her, 
 at the headquarters of the Crusade, and he 
 
 145
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 knelt at her feet in misery, and prayed for- 
 giveness, touching with shy finger-tips her 
 proffered hand, and kissing the border of her 
 skirt. 
 
 Then she found that, having given so much 
 of herself, she must give more. She found 
 that, like all humans, she was more drawn to 
 love someone she had helped than someone 
 who had helped her. The beautifying of his 
 heart was her work; without her it would 
 again become dulled and tarnished. So when 
 he next came to her, humble and tragic and 
 ridiculous, she married him. 
 
 He reached his heaven. He went away 
 from the mission hall rapturously forswear- 
 ing all the dear old dirty days. Away went 
 the lamp and the pipe, away went the bottle 
 and the glass, and contemptuous feet 
 stamped splendidly away from such places 
 as the Lantern. For a year he remained with 
 his Jesus woman in paradise. Then a child 
 was born. The child was born dead; the 
 mother died three days later. 
 
 146
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 He tore up Bible and Prayer Book, and 
 smashed the harmonium with a hatchet. And 
 he flung through the doors of the Lantern, 
 which snapped happily behind him, and 
 hammered on the bar, shouting: "Double 
 gin! Double gin! And bloody quick about 
 it. Yers since I 'ad one." 
 
 Later, he rolled out and crawled to the 
 cottage now empty of delight ; and as he had 
 gone home that night so he went home every 
 night that followed. 
 
 When he had inverted his tankard, he 
 looked at Chuck. Chuck came across and 
 had it replenished. 
 
 "Well, lad, 'ow is it?" 
 
 "Oh, fair," said Chuck. 
 
 "You're looking better. Does it 'urt as 
 much?" 
 
 "Oh, hell. Don't ask." 
 
 "Ar. . . . B)^ the way, that wasn't 'alf a 
 doing 5^ou gave young Perce." 
 
 "Oh. You 'ear about it. 
 
 "Ar." 
 
 147
 
 Twinkletoes 
 
 "Course, you 'ear everything." 
 
 "Yerss. I 'eard about it. I 'ear a lot, 
 as you say. Everything, nearly. Chuck, 
 Territon wasn't 'ere for nothing to-night." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 "No. Chuck, take a 'oliday." 
 
 "Whaffor?" 
 
 "Take a 'oliday. And Minasi too. Both 
 of yeh." 
 
 "Whaffor?" • 
 
 "Don't keep saying 'Whaffor.' Know me, 
 don't yeh? Well, then, I says: Take a 
 'oliday. And I says Territon, too. And I 
 says Snide. Where's Minasi?" 
 
 "Down at the Works, I think." 
 
 "Ar. Well, you better go down there. 
 Quick. And see 'im. Don't talk too much. 
 The Prince and the Dook and Wallopy can 
 fix their lie-up all right. But go and see 
 Minasi. And just say to him what I told 
 yeh. 'Olidays. Territon. Snide." 
 
 "Hank, you're smart. I didn't get you at 
 first. What chance we got?" 
 
 148
 
 T^wznkletoes 
 
 "Any amount. 'E don't know nothing. 
 'E's on'y guessing. Tried to suck me. E'll 
 be using me for a rubber stamp next." 
 Chuck became suddenly emphatic : 
 "Christ. If it should get about. If it was 
 
 to come off. If Twinkletoes My God! 
 
 I don't mind. I'll take what's coming to me. 
 
 But if she Christ. 'Sail right, though. 
 
 I'll fix that, some'ow. Whatever 'appens, 
 she'll never 'ear of it. There's plenty of 
 ways. I'll slip along to the Works. S'long." 
 
 149
 
 VIII 
 
 To Twinkletoes in the dressing-room of 
 the Quayside came the girl Lilac. 
 She stood over Twinkletoes' chair, 
 one shoulder listed scornfully. 
 
 "Huh!" she grunted. 
 
 "What's the matter?" 
 
 "Huh! 'My Dad's one of the finest men 
 in the world. My Dad's clean all through. 
 My Dad's never done anything dirty. My 
 Dad's the straightest man that ever lived.' 
 Huh!" 
 
 "What you talking about?" 
 
 "You and your glorious, marvelous old 
 Dad." 
 
 Twinkletoes turned upon Lilac, a little 
 spark of anger appearing in her eyes, as it 
 always did when anyone ridiculed or aspersed 
 the old Dad. "Well, what about it?" She 
 noticed that the other girls were watching 
 and grinning mischievously. Their happy 
 faces were deformed by a mixture of spite 
 and amusement. 
 
 150
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 "Cuh! Your Dad never done anything 
 dirty!" 
 
 "Lilac, what d'j^ou mean? Talking like 
 that. Nor 'e 'asn't. What's up with you?" 
 
 "Stow it, T winks. Don't make out you 
 don't know. Everj^bodj'^ knows about it. I 
 heard it 'smorning. We all know about it." 
 
 Twinkletoes stood up. Her face was 
 alabaster. Her lips were twisted. "Know 
 about what?" 
 
 "Why, about your Dad. About his tricks. 
 What he is." 
 
 "Tricks? Tricks? Lilac — you trying to 
 make a row?" 
 
 "Don't be silly, Twinks. No. Only don't 
 go swanking any more. Because we know. 
 We like you, Twinks, awfully, but we can't 
 stand your swank about yowx Dad. Not any 
 more. Seeing M'hat your Dad is and has 
 been for years." 
 
 "Oh. And what is he?" She trembled a 
 little. 
 
 "Why, everybody knows what he is. He's 
 
 151
 
 'T'zmnkletoes 
 
 a forger. He makes bad notes at these 
 Works of his. And he's going to be locked 
 up soon." 
 
 Twinkletoes dropped back to the ledge 
 which served as dressing-table. Her hands 
 gripped its edge. She stared at Lilac. 
 Exploding giggles drew her eyes to the other 
 girls. She looked from one to the other, 
 then back to Lilac. Her breath came 
 awkwardly. Three times she opened her 
 mouth to speak, but said nothing. She 
 seemed as one suffering strangulation. This 
 was, she argued, a joke. Should she take it 
 as a joke, or regard it as an insulting joke? 
 Or was it a deliberate and arranged assault 
 on her leadership? She decided to treat it 
 cursorily. 
 
 "Don't be a fool, Lilac. You'll get yesself 
 into trouble some day — spreading lies about 
 people like that." 
 
 A scream of laughter followed the remark. 
 She looked round, first, threateningly; then 
 smiled in an effort to placate them. 
 
 152
 
 T!winkletoes 
 
 "Look 'ere — what's all this about? Who 
 put this up? If you can't think of a better 
 guff that this, try again." 
 
 Lilac seemed a little abashed. She glanced 
 at her companions. 
 
 "T winks — do you honestly mean to stand 
 there and tell us you don't know?" 
 
 "Of course I don't know rubbish like that 
 
 -silly." 
 
 Lilac, in petticoat and stockings, thrust 
 her head earnestly forward and clasped her 
 hands. She was very serious. 
 
 "Twinkletoes — it's true\ True as I stand 
 here. True as God's in heaven. Everybody 
 knows it." 
 
 "Yes," shrieked the children, "we all know 
 it. Your Dad's a forger! Your Dad's a 
 forger!" they chanted to an impromptu air. 
 The younger ones joined hands and danced 
 round her. "Your Dad's a forger! Your 
 Dad's a for — ger! He'll be locked up in 
 pri — son! He'll be locked up in pri — son!" 
 while Lilac cried : "Stop it, kids ! Shut up !" 
 
 153
 
 liwinkletoes 
 
 Slowly, ver}'- slowly, Twinkletoes realized 
 that something had happened. Her eyes 
 bulged. Her head drooped. The separate 
 golden curls were mournfully pendulous. 
 Then her temper reached its flash-point. She 
 sprang away from the dressing-slab. 
 
 "Liars! Liars! Liars!" she screamed. 
 "Liars — the whole lot of you! Suffering 
 Jesus, I'll smash you for that. I'll smash 
 
 you!" 
 
 A chair fell with a mild thud as she thrust 
 an arm full at the concerned face of Lilac. 
 A hair-brush spun into the grinning group. 
 Shoes and boots went at them. She became 
 maniac; a livid little creature bent on 
 destroying these foul things that had touched 
 with their dirty tongues her splendid Dad. 
 The youngest drew back, afraid not so much 
 of her blows as of this storm that they had 
 aroused. She swept across the floor after 
 them, pummelling here, tearing there, shak- 
 ing others, throwing the whole weight and 
 fire of her body into this righteous crusade. 
 
 154
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 Only when Lilac and two of the biggest 
 girls had gripped her and thrown her to the 
 ground did the fury cease. She lay limp, 
 sobbing dry sobs. 
 
 "Cads! Cads! Cads!" she gasped. "If 
 my Dad was here. . . . Liars! Cads! 
 Lemme get up." 
 
 Lilac, shamefaced, helped her up. 
 
 "Twinks — don't be so silly. It is true. 
 Ask anybody. Ask Hank Hogan, that old 
 beast that's always in the Blue Lantern. Ask 
 JNIrs. Lightf oot — her husband works for your 
 Dad and gets the notes round. Ask Rose- 
 leaf. Ask Inspector Territon. He lives in 
 our street, and told my Dad. They're all 
 going to be arrested. Ask anybody. Every- 
 body knows. 
 
 "We're all sorry, Twinks dear, but we 
 thought you knew, and we got wild because 
 you were always talking that way. We 
 thought it was swank. It isn't your fault. 
 We're not blaming you. You'll always be 
 the same to us, whatever happens. 
 
 155
 
 "-Twinkletoes 
 
 "Here — come on — quick, or you won't be 
 ready to go on." 
 
 Twinkletoes suffered herself to be led to 
 her chair, and sat staring into the mirror at 
 the curious figure who used to be Twinkle- 
 toes, and now was . . . ? They were so 
 serious about it. Yet it must be wrong. 
 There was a mistake. Her Dad — her old 
 pot-and-pan — doing things like that. It 
 wasn't possible. Things didn't happen like 
 that. It was surely some other man they'd 
 got mixed up about. But they were so cer- 
 tain. The pulses hammered into her brain 
 one sing-song phrase: Suppose it's true! 
 Suppose ifs true! "Everybody knows. . . . 
 Ask Hank Hogan. . . . Ask Inspector 
 Territon. . . . Ask Mrs. Lightfoot." 
 
 The Ma of the troupe bustled in. "All 
 ready, girls? Now then, Minasi, hurry up. 
 You're always late. Hurry up, I said. 
 What's the matter?" 
 
 The girls stood around in a disturbed 
 bunch. 
 
 156
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 "It's her father, Ma." 
 
 "Well, what about 'im?" 
 
 "He's going to be locked up." 
 
 "Well, well, and if 'e is. 'E's not the only 
 one that's been locked up. Come, Minasi. 
 It's a bit awkward like, but there's no need 
 to make all this fuss." 
 
 "Oh, lemme alone. Lemme alone!" she 
 
 wailed. "I wish I was dead. I wish 
 
 Oh, it ain't true. It can't be. I'm going to 
 see." 
 
 "Minasi — you stop here." But in a streak 
 of brown she was gone through the door and 
 down the stairs. 
 
 Her first thought was to go to Dad, but 
 that, she felt, was impossible. If it wasn't 
 true, it would be a dirty thing to let him 
 think she even allowed the story to worry 
 her for a moment. If it were true, it would 
 be too horrible to see him. As she ran, she 
 mumbled: "Oh, Dad, Dad!" 
 
 She thought of Chuck Lightfoot, of In- 
 spector Territon, of Hank Hogan. She 
 
 157
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 fixed on Hank. She knew him; he had been 
 sometimes to the house, and, although he was 
 dirty, he was always nice and kind. On the 
 corner where stands the Blue Lantern she 
 found him. Funds had run out ; the Lantern 
 bar was empty; and he was searching the 
 streetscape with his keen eyes for a friend 
 who should be safe for "one." 
 
 Hatless, panting, dishevelled, she stumbled 
 against him. 
 
 "Oh, 'Ank, 'Ank, it ain't true, is it? What 
 everybody's saying 'bout my Dad?" 
 
 Hank started momentarily, then chewed 
 steadily on his quid of plug. " 'Bout yer 
 Dad? Why, Twinks, whassup? Knocking 
 a por old man down like that. What ain't 
 true?" 
 
 "What they're saying!" 
 
 "What're they saying? I can't answer 
 'alf-a-dozen questions at once with all the 
 breath knocked out o' me. One at a time, 
 and put 'em plainly." But his face was 
 troubled. The fury of her questions per- 
 
 ' 158
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 plexed him. His manner expressed a desii'e 
 to find some means of getting rid of Twinkle- 
 toes. For the first time in his life he found 
 that being a fount of local information was 
 a nuisance. 
 
 " 'Bout Dad forging notes. And going to 
 be locked up. Oh, it ain't true?" 
 
 Hank looked up the street; then at 
 Twinkletoes. He became at once shy and 
 awkwardly demonstrative. 
 
 "Why, there now, fancy asking me a thing 
 like that. 'Ow d'you think I sh'd know ?" 
 
 "Oh, don't. You do know. You know 
 everything 'bout these things. They said 
 Inspector Territon told someone 'e was go- 
 ing to arrest Dad 'fore long. What d'you 
 know, 'Ank? Tell me. TeU me." 
 
 "Why — can't say I know nothing 'bout 
 it. Best man fer you t'ask is — is — yer Dad. 
 Or Territon. Or someone who's in it. I 
 couldn't tell yeh." He looked away. "Ar 
 — there's a pal o' mine over there I want to 
 see partic'lar." He pulled his coat about 
 
 159
 
 Twinkletoes 
 
 him. "I'll pop across, kiddie. So long." 
 
 He turned and looked down at her. He 
 noted the dumb agony in her face, and his 
 wild red hair, filthy clothes and tender man- 
 ner gave him the appearance of a caricatured 
 angel pronouncing a benediction. He placed 
 a hand on her shoulder, and lifted one of the 
 curls. "Brace up, kiddie." He slid across 
 the road, and she knew from what she had 
 seen in his face that it was true. 
 
 Her god had fallen. 
 
 With sick, faltering steps she moved away, 
 going, for no reason, back to the Quayside, 
 moaning "Dad !" at every pace. In the stage 
 door passage she met Markie Koseleaf . He 
 stood away from her, his hands in the pockets 
 of his greasy dress suit, the stricken animal 
 moving even a theatrical manager to silence 
 and wonderment. 
 
 "Por kid," he said, with insufferable kind- 
 ness. "For kid," and stopped her as she 
 blundered to the stairs. " 'Sail right, kid. 
 
 160
 
 H'winkletoes 
 
 You needn't work to-night. They're nearly 
 on. I know all about it. Por li'l gel. Ain't 
 there nothing we can do?" 
 
 "No. No. I don' want nothing." 
 "I'm so sorry. We all are. All of us. 
 Honest, we are. Really. No codding. 'Ere, 
 brace up, kiddie. Look up. Wish I could 
 do something for yeh." He seemed at a loss. 
 "It give me a bit of a jar when it was told 
 me. Never suspected it. Known yer old 
 Dad fer years and — never dreamt of any- 
 thing like this. Never dreamt of it. There 
 — i*un up and see the gels, when they're orf. 
 They're sorry they chipped you. Told me so. 
 All of 'em. 'Orrible busines. Specially for 
 fine kid like you. Awfully sorry. I am, 
 reely." 
 
 Twinkletoes lagged up the stairs to the 
 Kids' dressing-room, and fell into her chair. 
 She rested her arms on the slab and drooped. 
 Her little body shook with sharp, cold sobs. 
 No tears came: onl}^ a sickness inside that 
 seemed to tear and gnaw her. 
 
 161
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 When the kids were off they came upstairs 
 quietly, not in the usual pell-mell scramble. 
 So swift, so complete was the metamorphosis 
 from the joyous, blasphemous, adorable child 
 who had led them, into the white, whipped, 
 soulless bundle before them that they were 
 hushed in her presence. 
 
 Lilac, very penitent, touched her shoulder. 
 
 "T winks, T winks — forgive us. We're all 
 sorry. We didn't know the way you felt 
 about it. Will you forgive us ?" 
 
 "Oh, 'sail right. It don' matter. I don' 
 mind 'bout that." 
 
 "You forgive us, then?" 
 
 "Um." 
 
 "T winks, don't brood like that. Don't 
 take it that way. You'll be ill. Twinks — 
 lift up." 
 
 "Oh, don't, don't," she moaned. "Lemme 
 alone." She shook herself. 
 
 "No, Twinks. Twinks dear, don't go on 
 like this." 
 
 Anomalous noises came from the buried 
 
 162
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 face. She writhed as one eluding flames or 
 blades. 
 
 "Oh, God. Oh, Dad. Oh, go 'way." 
 
 Then, with a rush of hideous sobs, the tears 
 came, bitter tears and full sobs that seemed 
 to scorch the eyes and wrench the small 
 throat. She was no longer a little girl, but 
 a tortured organism. 
 
 The others, neglecting washing and chang- 
 ing, stood back, uncertain whether the final 
 outburst meant a fainting fit or the last 
 paroxysm before death. The younger ones 
 watched, morbidly fascinated by the spec- 
 tacle of abandoned agony. Some suggested 
 fetching Ma. Others were for fetching Rose- 
 leaf. One or two wanted a doctor. 
 
 But Lilac went to her, lifted her from the 
 slab, wound entreating arms about her, and 
 pillowed her on her shoulder. There she 
 finished her fight, the measure of her tears 
 growing gradually less with the sobs, until, 
 after a long space, she was tranquil, save 
 for spasmodic coughs. 
 
 163
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 "Feel better, T winks?" 
 
 "Urn." 
 
 "That's right. You've had a cry. Now 
 you want to be cheered up. It's no use 
 moping. It won't help things. You'll have 
 to keep as bright's you can. We'll all help. 
 Won't we?" 
 
 "Yes. Any way we can. Not 'alf !" 
 
 "Thanks." 
 
 Lilac rocked her in her arms. "What you 
 want to do now ? Going home ?" 
 
 "Oh, I dunno. No. I can't go 'ome. I 
 can't go 'ome. No. Oh, Lilac!" 
 
 "There, kid. No, it won't be much use 
 your going 'ome. You won't sleep. I know 
 you won't. You'll only get mopey and 
 brood V by yourself." 
 
 Twinks raised herself a little. "You going 
 with the crowd to-night, Lilac?" 
 
 "Well, we did think of going, but— 
 
 "I'll come wi' you." 
 
 j> 
 
 Lilac pondered. "Yes," she said at length ; 
 would be better, perhaps. Best thing you 
 
 164
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 could do, come to think of it. Might cheer 
 you up a bit. You want something rackety. 
 Take you out of yourself like." 
 
 '■'Where you going?" 
 
 "Oh, the Lantern. Downstairs. Me and 
 one or two others, and some of the boys, and 
 Freddie Parslow. Quite private it'll be. Just 
 ourselves. I think it'll do you good, really." 
 
 "I want to die, Lilac." 
 
 "Oh, don't, Twinks. No good talking like 
 that. I know how you feel, ducksie. But 
 it won't do. It won't help matters." 
 
 Twinkletoes threw herself from Lilac's 
 arms, and became suddenly alive. She 
 jumped up. "All right. I'll come. I don't 
 care where I go to-night. I'll come any- 
 where. Get ready." 
 
 "That's right," said Lilac, turning to the 
 crowd with a touch of pride in her manner 
 as though to say: "There! We didn't want 
 a doctor. I've done her good !" 
 
 At the stage door was Roseleaf. " 'Ullo, 
 kiddie. Coming along with us. That's the 
 
 165
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 style. Lilac'll look after you. We'll try to 
 cheer you up a bit. Whatever's 'appened 
 don't make no diffs to us." 
 
 She followed them with a desperate gaiety. 
 Her god had fallen. She would celebrate 
 the fall with fitting rites. 
 
 They reached the Blue Lantern and by 
 a private door descended to the basement 
 saloon, reserved for various obscure "clubs" 
 and societies. It was brightly lit, and set 
 with tables and crimson plush lounges. An 
 open piano stood in a corner, its top covered 
 with wine, beer and spirit bottles, with corks 
 drawn. Sandwiches were on a small green- 
 baize table. A lounge in the corner, built 
 in decks like a ship's berths, was for the use 
 of those who liked the lamp. The odor was 
 sickly; the air dry. Cheap sporting prints 
 disfigured the walls. 
 
 The company included Roseleaf ; the two 
 comedians of that week's show ; Twinkletoes, 
 Lilac, and three others of the older girls of 
 the troupe, between sixteen and seventeen; 
 
 166
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 the conductor of the Quayside; the electri- 
 cian; the electrician's wife, and one or two 
 of the bandsmen. 
 
 Roseleaf called for Dickery-Dock with 
 magnanimous geniality, and the bottles 
 were served. The girls took wine. The 
 electrician's wife took gin and water. The 
 others chose whisky or beer. 
 
 "Come on, Lilac," said Roseleaf pro- 
 prietorially. "Get busy. Show us 'ow it's 
 done. And put some ginger into it. We 
 want warming up to-night." 
 
 "All right, guv'nor." Lilac moved 
 obediently to the piano. She loved these 
 forbidden underground escapades. They 
 were life to her: adventure; something dif- 
 ferent from the poor round of her work on 
 the halls and her mornings in the stuffy 
 rooms of her home with quarrelsome parents. 
 She was at that age when she was tired of 
 ordinary things; an age of wanting some- 
 thing to happen; of wanting you know not 
 what: chiefly, perhaps, of wanting to want 
 
 167
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 something. Nothing happened in her life. 
 She did the same things every day; met the 
 same people ; performed the same tasks ; and 
 they fed her up. These little excursions 
 after the show with Roseleaf opened the 
 ivory gate to her, and gave her palate just 
 that salted flick that it needed. In these 
 affairs she could live; she could let herself 
 go. 
 
 She strummed idly on the piano for a 
 space ; then, with a crash of chords her young 
 hands and bare arms flashed along the keys 
 in a provocative rag- time that stung the 
 blood and set muscles moving against their 
 will, and immediately the room seemed to 
 blaze with carnival lights. 
 
 Twinkletoes, pale and dried as a statue, 
 sat staring before her, wondering whether 
 she had ever been the Twinkletoes of yester- 
 day. She had no interest in anything. 
 There was no hope for her of entertainment. 
 She was there because she was not elsewhere. 
 She hardly knew she was there. Her body 
 
 168
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 was reclining on a lounge, but mind and soul 
 were suspended. White wine was placed 
 before her, and she gulped it, and lit a 
 Turkish cigarette. 
 
 All were smoking, and through the en- 
 twining haze she saw Roseleaf cross to Lilac 
 at the piano, move her straight, short hair 
 that reached just to her collar, and put his 
 lips to the back of her neck. Yesterday she 
 wouldn't have liked it, but it didn't matter 
 now. 
 
 "Go way, guv'nor," laughed Lilac skit- 
 tishly, twisting nimbly but not ceasing her 
 melody. "Go 'way. I'll beat you." 
 
 "Try it" he chuckled. He held a glass 
 of wine to her mouth, and she lapped it 
 while keeping the intricate beats of the rag. 
 He gave her a word, and she played a yearn- 
 ing melody to which he sang, inviting the 
 company to join in the chorus. Nine voices 
 roared it : 
 
 We sha'n't 'ave no Wore 
 
 As long's we 'ave a King like good King Edward, 
 There won't be no Wore 
 
 169
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 'Cos 'e 'ates that koind of thing — guh! 
 We sha'n't 'ave no Wore 
 As long's we 'ave a King like good King Edward 
 Peace with 'Onner 
 Is 'is M otter 
 Gawd save — 
 
 the King — guh! 
 
 Roseleaf strolled idly round. Coming 
 before Twinkletoes, he looked down at her. 
 "Feeling better, young 'un?" 
 
 "I'm all right," she replied automatically. 
 
 "That's good. Much better for you than 
 going 'ome. 'Ave some more o' this. Do 
 you good." 
 
 He filled her glass with the cheap Graves, 
 and she gulped it almost defiantly, finishing 
 it. He filled it again, and again she gulped. 
 They were large glasses, and she told herself 
 that she was beginning to feel a bit bosky. 
 But it didn't matter. 
 
 Ilalf-an-hour passed in drinking and talk- 
 ing. Then the comic man did a song which 
 no manager could allow him to do on the 
 halls. It went well. They called for more. 
 He gave some impromptus to which Lilac 
 
 170
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 vamped. The company agreed loudly that 
 he was A Lad. Finding her glass empty, 
 Twinkletoes helped herself to more wine. 
 The comic man was certainly comic. And 
 that conductor fellow had wonderfully curly 
 hair. Lilac played the piano beautifully. 
 The Blue Lantern was a jolly fine place. 
 This room was very comfortably furnished. 
 
 Roseleaf had settled himself by the elec- 
 trician's wife, and was stroking her hand. 
 
 "Y'know," said the electrician, "I rather 
 feel like a pipe." 
 
 "Oh, do yeh?" snapped Roseleaf. "Well 
 you ain't going to git one. Not 'ere, at my 
 party. I ain't going to 'ave you coming up 
 buggy t'morrer, and fusing the plucky wires. 
 You don't take it frequent enough to take it 
 decently. What d'you say, Hilda?" 
 
 "Roseleaf's right," said the electrician's 
 wife. "If 'e's on that sorter strike, 'e 
 needn't think 'e'll sleep wi' me. 'Cos 'e 
 won't. I've 'ad one experience. And one's 
 enough. Moderation in all things, as the 
 
 171
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 mother said when she 'ad 'er first baby." 
 
 Twinkletoes suddenly shifted her position. 
 "I'd like a shot, guv'nor," she said dully and 
 thickly. 
 
 "Eh?" He looked at her with critical 
 affection. "Well, you're in a bit of a state 
 to-night. Might calm yeh down a bit. 
 Won't do yeh no 'arm, I sh'd think. All 
 right, I'll get it." 
 
 He called to Dickery-Dock for the lay- 
 out. Twinkletoes drained her glass and 
 climbed to the pillowed lounge in the corner, 
 where she lay down. The lay-out was 
 brought and the stuff cooked. She took the 
 long stem of the pipe to her teeth, and pulled 
 the curtain half-way across the recess. Its 
 dusk was soon beaded with the blue light of 
 the lamp and the tiny glow of the hop. 
 
 It was now half-past one. At the piano 
 Lilac worked hard on waltzes, ballad songs, 
 dance pieces, and all the yellable rubbish of 
 the halls. Roseleaf began to tell stories to 
 the electrician's wife, stories with question- 
 
 172
 
 '^winkletoes 
 
 able points to them, which he dehvered be- 
 tween great gulps of whisky. His stories 
 reminded the other men of stories, and they 
 progressed from coarse to filthy. 
 
 The company was well warmed up. Their 
 voices rose. They talked assertively. They 
 became opulent. They looked masterfully at 
 the bottles and the lounges and the room 
 generally. The amber beers and whiskies 
 caught the light and reflected it as gold. 
 Released suddenly from the fetters and 
 cautions of daily life, the men became bold, 
 with a touch of challenge. Roseleaf pulled 
 Lilac from the piano, and settled her at his 
 side on the lounge. One of the bandsmen 
 took her place and perfunctorily hammered 
 out breathless stuff from the Paris halls. 
 
 Twinkletoes, through veiled eyes, saw 
 Lilac reclining against a corner of the 
 lounge, her legs crossed. She saw the con- 
 ductor getting fresh with the electrician's 
 wife. She saw Roseleaf stretch a hand to 
 the table for his whisky, and take a glass of 
 
 173
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 wine and drain it. She saw Lilac fumble for 
 her glass, and take the nearest, which was 
 Roseleaf's whisky. She saw the gigantic 
 Dickery-Dock sprawling full length on a 
 far bench, taking tankards of his own Old, 
 and she heard him exchanging bedraggled 
 jests with the comedians, and discussing 
 probables for next week's big race. She saw 
 Lilac attempt a Mazurka with Roseleaf, and 
 saw her mad feet become entwined with her 
 partner's and her stocking slip saucily down 
 to her ankle, and heard the Homeric 
 laughter occasioned by the accident. 
 
 Then a delicious haze dropped over every- 
 thing. The crashing notes of the piano came 
 to her faintly like music from distant palace 
 windows, awaking in her many forgotten 
 sweetnesses. Dickery Dock swelled into a 
 grotesque statue. The room reeled, and the 
 cloud of tobacco smoke changed violently 
 from purple to amber, to scarlet, to green, 
 and then to the tint and texture of ivory. 
 It emitted gushes of uproar. The lazy smoke 
 
 174
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 from her own pipe, discharging its foul 
 sweetness, became a wandering angel. Lilac 
 seemed to swim from the lounge to mid-air, 
 floating towards her like some cruelly lovely 
 comrade of a broken dream. The clink of 
 bottle against glass, as drinks were poured 
 and swallowed with the hectic haste of semi- 
 intoxication, was like children's voices sing- 
 ing silvern songs. Through her limbs 
 purred a fantastic warmth, and she desired 
 nothing but that that moment should be 
 stretched to the end of time. Her sorrow 
 was assuaged. The most profound affairs 
 faded into ludicrous triviality. Dad seemed 
 to be only a vague thought from another 
 world into which she had lately peeped, and 
 his trouble remained with her as the troubles 
 of the people of a cinema play. She re- 
 membered her furious grief of the evening, 
 and wondered why she had so behaved. How 
 silly it all seemed. It didn't matter, really. 
 Nothing was worth bothering about. She 
 must have been a silly. 
 
 175
 
 'Twinkletoes 
 
 The green-stockinged legs of Lilac moved 
 and receded. Lilac was a dish of goblin 
 sweetmeats which she could never reach. 
 She wanted to eat her, but though she was 
 so close to her she seemed many miles away. 
 
 The spent pipe dropped from her languid 
 fingers and fell with a tiny clatter to the 
 floor. Her eyes closed and she and Lilac 
 flew away together. They were still flying, 
 when a hoarse, thick voice, which seemed to 
 be a sentient substance, stopped them. They 
 crashed against it. The words from the 
 voice were: 
 
 "S'pose we bett' move along. Wha's 
 time?" 
 
 "Ar pars three!" boomed another voice. 
 
 "Well. Besserfrensmuspar." 
 
 There were sounds of mild scuffling, and 
 surely that was Lilac's voice. 
 
 "Amy! A-mee! Don' go yet. I can't 
 g'ome like this. I'm tied up. Sewn up. 
 Fairly. Sha'n' 'alf cop it 'f I go 'ome like 
 this. Lemme g'ome wi' you. My ol' dad'll 
 
 176
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 flog me 'f I g'ome like this. Lemme come 
 t'your place. . . . No. 'Mall right. Sha'n' 
 tummel over. On'y gimme your 'and. 
 'Mall right. On'y daren' g'ome. 'E '11 take 
 the cane t'me 'f I do. . . . Fin' ol' time, eh? 
 Don' care a damn. 'Joyed meself top-'ole. 
 Great night. C'm'on. Lemme get your 
 arm. 'Sawf'ly good of you. Bes' girl I 
 know. Qui' a dear. Always like you, Amy. 
 Deares' girl I ever met. 'Strewth, y'are. 
 C'm'on." 
 
 Then another voice. " 'Ere — what about 
 that kid, Twinkletoes? She's asleep. 'Ere, 
 we can' leave 'er 'ere." 
 
 A great bull roared: "No. Course yeh 
 can't. I can' ave 'er 'ere all night. One of 
 you's got to take 'er 'ome." 
 
 "Well, who? Eh? Who?" 
 
 Three thousand hands were laid upon 
 Twinkletoes' body, and she dropped from 
 swirling clouds to something hard. 
 
 "Pick 'er up. Pick 'er up," cried the 
 goblins. "She's drunk." 
 
 177
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 She felt herself raised by many arms. 
 
 "She's drunk." 
 
 "Well, what d'y' expect? Mixing pipe 
 with wine." 
 
 Then she received a stinging slap on the 
 cheek. Fumblingly she reached the thought 
 that she had never in her life been slapped as 
 most of her young friends had been. An- 
 other fierce slap came to the other cheek, and 
 then others from every side, until her head 
 sang. 
 
 "That oughter bring 'er round." 
 
 "Rub 'er 'ands, someone!" 
 
 Rebellion against the idea of assault, more 
 than the assault itself, did bring her round. 
 She opened her eyes. 
 
 "Oh! We're all 'ere, then," she said 
 idiotically, knowing that she had said some- 
 thing brilliant. 
 
 She saw the electrician's wife stumble to- 
 wards her. 
 
 "You bett' g'ome," said the lady. "Find 
 yer way 'ome all right?" 
 
 178
 
 Twinkletoes 
 
 "She can't go 'ome alone like that," pro- 
 tested Dickery-Dock. "She'll be pinched. 
 And then it'll come back on my 'ouse. I 
 don' want no p'lice court case, I tell yeh." 
 
 Roseleaf swung himself from the table 
 against which he was leaning. "I'll see'r 
 
 'ome." 
 
 Twinkletoes suffered one of those electric 
 moments of sobrietj^ that reach the wholly 
 intoxicated. "Don' wanner g'ome. Can' 
 g'ome. Won' g'ome." 
 
 Dickery-Dock, the only sober member of 
 the party, scratched his head. "Well, 
 wodyeh going t'do about it?" 
 
 Roseleaf dug painfully and deeply into his 
 thoughts. Inspiration came. "I know. I'll 
 take 'er 'ome. Get there, easy. Leave 'er 
 wi' Missis Nobletts, nex' door. Can' let 'er 
 go like this. Can' let 'er be pinched. I'll 
 fix it. Leave it t'me. Leave everything 
 t'me." 
 
 "All ri', guv'nor." Twinkletoes reeled to- 
 wards him, and clutched his coat. "I'll go 
 
 179
 
 '^winkletoes 
 
 'long wi' you. You bin goo' t'me t 'night." 
 Now Lilac, who was following Amy and 
 w^orrying herself to place her feet properly 
 on the steps, heard this, and turned sharply 
 round and screamed, very shrilly: 
 
 "No — no — no, Twinkletoes! You gotter 
 come wi' us. Me and Amy. You come 
 'ome wi' us." 
 
 She staggered horribly towards Twinkle- 
 toes. "Wi' us. Me and Amy. We'll see 
 you all ri'." She grasped Twinkletoes' arm. 
 
 "G'way," muttered Twinkletoes. "Guv'- 
 nor's goin' fix me. Bin good t'me t'night. 
 Feel fine. Don' wanner go wi' you." 
 
 "Twinks! Twinks!" Lilac tugged madly 
 at her to force her from Roseleaf. "Twinks, 
 you can't. It ain't right. Not wi' 'im. 
 You don' know. You don' understand. 
 You're too nice. Not wi' 'im. Me and 
 Amy'll see you." 
 
 "G'way!" 
 
 Lilac screamed: "Oh, Twinks, don't!" 
 
 "Shut that fool's mouth," said the 
 
 180
 
 'Twmkletoes 
 
 electrician's wife, smacking Lilac smartly 
 across the lips. "Yeh'll 'ave the cops on us, 
 makin' that damn row." 
 
 LUac clapped a hand to her hurt mouth, 
 but swayed again to Twinkletoes. 
 
 "Oh, Twinks, you can't. You mustn't. 
 Can't you see'^. Wi' us. Me and Amy. 
 We'll " 
 
 Twinkletoes lifted a sturdy leg and kicked 
 Lilac forcefully on the shin. "Now'U you 
 shut up? C'm'on, guv'nor!" 
 
 Lilac collapsed on the lounge, and was 
 seized by the protecting Amy. Twinkletoes 
 and Roseleaf, clinging absurdly, found the 
 steps, climbed to the street, and dropped into 
 the tank of the East End darkness. Over 
 everything had fallen that cold crash of still- 
 ness that marks the meeting of night and 
 dawn. 
 
 The sharp air of the river affected them. 
 It cleared Twinkletoes of stupor, and made 
 her effervescent and reckless. It muddled 
 Roseleaf : he became maudlin and perplexed. 
 
 181
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 "Lessee. Turn to ri', don' we?" 
 
 "Thassit, guv'nor. Keep to the right, 
 and you can' go wrong." She laughed 
 stridently. 
 
 "Beh no' make s'much noise," Roseleaf 
 suggested. 
 
 "I don' care. I don' care fer nothing. 
 My old Dad's goin' to quod, and I'm 'is kid. 
 I shall be a lag's daughter. Won't I be 
 pop'lar? There goes the lag's kid, they'll 
 say. Won' it be funny? They'll throw 
 things at me, and I'll throw back. Winter 
 sports. 'F I go on at Quayside again, 
 sha'n' 'alf get the bird. . . . An' I thought 
 'e was such a bloomin' 'ero. Such a saint. 
 Something to live up to. And 'e's going to 
 quod. An' me makin' all that fuss in the 
 dressin'-room 'sev'ning. They mus' 'ave 
 thought I was a blasted fool not to 'ave 
 known. Ain't it damn funny?" 
 
 "Roun' to ri'," Roseleaf was murmuring. 
 "Rum thing, y'know. Can' find my street. 
 Useter be 'ere. Useter be jus' 'ere. Can' 
 
 182
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 'ave moved it, surely? No; course they 
 can' 'ave moved it. Swear it useter be 'ere. 
 Less ask someone." 
 
 He swayed and clutched at a sand-bin, 
 and dragged Twinkletoes with him. They 
 leaned against it, Twinkletoes laughing, 
 Roseleaf apologizing for the removal or 
 obliteration of his home. 
 
 Steps sounded sharply on the pavement 
 opposite. Steps they had heard all round 
 them as they walked, but they placed them 
 as belonging to the Blue Lantern crowd. 
 They looked towards the sound, and under 
 a bleak gas-lamp stood Cissie Lightfoot. 
 
 Twinkletoes cried festively at her, "Missie 
 Li-ightfoot!" and made a yodel of it. 
 
 Cissie crossed the road. She looked coldly 
 upon them. "You're in a nice state, you 
 two." 
 
 "What's it matter?" Twinkletoes de- 
 manded, holding the sand-bin with one hand 
 and high-kicking with an agreeable leg. 
 
 "A kid like you — sixteen — in short frocks. 
 
 183
 
 Twinkletoes 
 
 Oughter be ashamed of yesself, being like 
 this. Stop that kicking. Put yeh frock 
 down, yeh little beast." 
 
 "Missie Li-ightfoot, we're lost. Going 
 'ome with Roseleaf, and 'e's lost 'is 'ouse. 
 Winter sports 'ave just begun." 
 
 "Huh! You're a nice one. Out at this 
 hour, and going 'ome like this. And with 
 'im. Dirty little cat, you." 
 
 "That's all ri'. You ain't my mother." 
 
 "Damn good job fer you I'm not. I'd 
 give you a few warmings if I was, and like to 
 'ave the doing of it too." 
 
 "I bet you would. Well, show us where 
 Cochin Gardens are." 
 
 "Yerss," Roseleaf added, "show us where 
 Cochin Gardens are." 
 
 "Find 'em yesselves, yeh dirty little 
 beasts!" 
 
 She stood for a moment, and looked upon 
 them. Her face was in shadow, and nothing 
 could be seen of her expression. But when 
 she swung round and walked away, she gave 
 
 184
 
 T^wmkletoes 
 
 a deep snort as of one at last getting what 
 had long been her rights. 
 
 It was Twinkletoes who at last found 
 Cochin Gardens, and she did not put herself 
 in the hands of dear Mrs. Nobletts next door. 
 She disarranged Roseleaf and dug a key 
 from his pocket, and they went in. Roseleaf 
 stumbled to the back room, and Twinkletoes 
 followed, found matches and lit a lamp. 
 Roseleaf dropped to a shiny sofa, and closed 
 his eyes. A few seconds later he opened 
 them, and saw Twinkletoes, wondrously 
 flushed, standing against the table, giggling. 
 He struggled to conjecture how she came to 
 be there. But she was there, profuse in 
 promises of beauty. 
 
 "Come 'ere, kid!" he grunted. 
 
 185
 
 IX 
 
 CrSSIE LIGHTFOOT did not go to 
 bed when she got home: she was too 
 cheerful. She sat in a chair until 
 six o'clock, when the day's life of the place 
 began. Then she made a sloppy toilet and 
 went out. On the Blue Lantern corner she 
 walked with arranged surprise into Hank 
 Hogan. 
 
 " 'Lo," he grunted. " 'Bout early, ain't 
 you?" 
 
 "Oh, I was just coming out to find my old 
 pot. 'E ain't bin 'ome. I s'pose 'e's done 
 a bunk. You laiow about Minasi's lay, 
 doncher? Chuck was in it, so I s'pose 'e'll 
 be roped in with the rest. . . . 'Orrible 
 business, ain't it?" 
 
 "Ar." 
 
 "And 'is kid's goings-on make it worse, 
 don't they? At a time like this, too, when 
 'e's in trouble. She might 'ave some decency 
 about 'er." 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 186
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 "Why, you know. Last night. Dirty 
 little cat." 
 
 "Ar." He looked her in the face and lied. 
 "I 'eard something about it." He had not 
 heard, and she knew he had not heard. It 
 was her plan to tell him. 
 
 "Oh. Filthy games. Last night — or 
 rather 'smorning. At the Lantern, 'ere. 
 I saw 'em chucked out. Four o'clock 
 'smorning. Copped the brewer, fairly. 
 Went 'ome with Roseleaf, too. 'Im, above 
 all. I tried to get 'er away, but she wouldn't 
 come. Flinging 'erself at 'im, she was. 
 Kissing 'im and wouldn't leave 'im. Said 
 she wanted 'er fun same's other people. 
 Swore at me. I saw 'em go into 'is 'ouse 
 together — and you know what 'e is. Drunk ? 
 She could 'ardly stand. You can guess 
 what 'appened in there. I s'pose they're 
 sleepin it orf now. Filthy little wretch. At 
 'er age, too. She wants a 'ose-pipe on 'er. 
 Or a 'orse-whip. And 'er Dad in all this 
 trouble, too. 'Nough to drive 'im orf 'is 'ead." 
 
 187
 
 'T'winkletoes 
 
 "Ar," said Hank. "But there y'are." 
 
 "Well," she continued, after a brief ir- 
 resolution, "I'll 'ave a trot round and see 
 if I can find Chuck. I dessay 'e's 'ad the 
 wire, but 'e's such a fool. Like as not 'e'll 
 go and bung 'imself at Territon's 'ead — or 
 bash 'im. S'long." 
 
 "Cheero." 
 
 Hank stood at his corner as though fixed 
 for the day, until Cissie had disappeared. 
 Then with shuffling but rapid steps he went 
 towards Shantung Place. He rapped 
 sharply on Minasi's door. It was not opened 
 until he rapped again with a curious tattoo. 
 Then Dad appeared unkempt, with braces 
 dolefully suspended from his trousers. 
 
 "Oh, it's you. Come in. I thought they'd 
 started for me." 
 
 Hank walked in. A scene was coming. 
 Scenes always made him uncomfortable, but 
 humanity and friendship demanded that he 
 should carry this one. In the kitchen Dad 
 had been burning papers and other materials 
 
 188
 
 '^winkletoes 
 
 in the fireplace. He turned with a mirthful 
 grin. 
 
 "Got 'ny news?" he asked. 
 
 "No," said Hank. 
 
 "Ah, well. They'll 'ave a 'ell of a job to 
 make a case now. I got rid of everything. 
 They can't fix nothing on us. Course, I 
 suppose they'll pinch us, but that won't 
 matter. We shall just go through the 'ear- 
 ing, and then be discharged, and perhaps 
 'ave a case fer wrongful arrest. There'll 
 be a scandal, but nothing'll stick, and it won't 
 mean anything to Twinks. She'll never 
 know anything. We shall prove innocence, 
 and she'll only be worried 'cos we was 
 bothered at all. So I'm feeling good 
 'smorning, I was in a fix last night. Made 
 sure they'd got us fair. As it is, she won't 
 know and won't smell anything. Thank 
 God fer that. Thank God." He hitched 
 his trousers, and the prayer came sincerely 
 from his lips. He had passed twenty-four 
 hours of anguish, but now that the thing he 
 
 189
 
 'T'winkletoes 
 
 most feared was beyond any possibility of ar- 
 riving, Twinkletoes would never know. She 
 would still believe in him, and he, for the 
 future, would be able clearly and fairly to 
 live up to her beauty and character. He 
 chortled and chirruped: "Gawd is love — 
 'earts are trumps," he went on. "IV alwis 
 said so." 
 
 Hank stood before him, and, taking his 
 appearance, without his face, he seemed some 
 evil thing of the night spoiling the dawn. 
 
 "I'm glad," he said at last absently. 
 "But — I mean — is Twinkletoes 'ere?" 
 
 "Yerss. In bed." 
 
 "Sure?" Hank's face was illumined. 
 
 "Course I'm sure." 
 
 "Seen'er?" 
 
 "No. But she's there right enough." 
 
 "What time she come in?" 
 
 "I d'no. I on'y just got in 'bout an hour 
 ago. I bin fixing things at the Works. But 
 she always comes in at 'ar-pars twelve." 
 
 "Well — ^go up an' see if she's there now," 
 
 190
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 "Whaffor? What's the idea?" 
 
 "I can' tell yeh — not yet. Go up and see 
 if she's there." 
 
 "Wodyeh getting at? You bin on the 
 hop?" 
 
 "Go up an' see if she's there," repeated 
 Hank, as from a lesson-book. 
 
 Something in his manner and aspect 
 jarred old Dad. He looked at him. He 
 hitched his trousers. 
 
 "Go up an' see if she's there?" he asked. 
 
 "Ar." 
 
 He turned to the door; halted; turned 
 again; looked at Hank, who was inspecting 
 a colored almanac; then went upstairs. 
 
 He came down in some trouble. 
 
 "Hank, what's the game? She ain't 
 there." 
 
 Hank sought for words, and finally 
 stumbled on them. "Old man — your 
 Twinkletoes — your kid's — gorn WTong." 
 
 "Gom wr What th'ell yeh talking 
 
 about?" 
 
 191
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 "She's gorn wrong." 
 
 "Gorn wrong — how th'ell could she go 
 wrong?" 
 
 "Well — 'ow do girls go wrong?" 
 
 A shadow flashed upon Dad's face. His 
 figure bent in menace. " 'Ank — if it was 
 anyone else I'd lay 'em out fer saying that. 
 And you know it. Out with it — wodyeh 
 mean ? Wodyeh know ? Whassit yer guff - 
 ing about?" 
 
 "I ain't guff ing. Your kid's gorn 
 wrong." 
 
 Dad fumbled at his trousers. His glance 
 wandered. He scratched his head. Then 
 he blazed. 
 
 "Out with it, yeh blasted fool. Don't 
 stand like a blasted scarecrow. Ain't I 'ad 
 enough trouble ? Spit it out. Where d'yeh 
 get that blasted lie?" 
 
 "She's gorn wrong. Went to the Lantern 
 last night. Downstairs. The Quayside 
 gang 'ave jags down there oncer twicer 
 week. She went with 'em. They come out 
 
 192
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 at four 'smorning. She was drunk. Mrs. 
 Lightfoot see'er. Drunk. And silly. Went 
 'ome with Roseleaf. Into 'is 'ouse. 'E lives 
 alone. Know the chap 'e is. Four o'clock 
 'smorning. Drunk so's she couldn't walk. 
 Mrs. Lightfoot watched 'em in. Tried to 
 get 'er away, but she wouldn't come. Said 
 she didn't care. Said she was out for fun 
 same's all the others. Kissing Roseleaf all 
 the way along. That's all." 
 
 Dad listened to this succinct report. His 
 face had turned grey. He had not moved 
 from his pose. " 'Ank," he said at length, 
 "it's a lie, a bloody lie. Twinkletoes? Not 
 likely. 'Er? 'Er touch a thing like Rose- 
 leaf. It's someone else. One o' t'other 
 girls Mrs. Lightfoot see." 
 
 "No," said Hank sadly. "She was 
 certain. 'Sides, could anyone mistake 
 Twinkles fer anyone else? Eh?" 
 
 "It's a lie." 
 
 "Steady, ol' man. D'you think I'd bring 
 lies like that round? An' at a time like this. 
 
 193
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 Call me a liar if yeh like, but you know me. 
 I didn't pass it on till I'd asked you a few 
 questions, y'know." 
 
 "Can't be, 'Ank. Can't be. She ain't 
 that sort. Clean, straight kid like 'er. She 
 wouldn't do it, 'Ank, She couldn't. Gawd 
 wouldn't let her. She's good. She " 
 
 "She's prob'ly there now, ol' man. Must 
 be. You've bin and looked and she ain't 
 bin 'ome. She didn't go in there till four, 
 and it's on'y six now. And she was drunk 
 then. People do all sorts o' things when 
 they're drunk." 
 
 "But she wouldn't 2i-got drunk, 'Ank." 
 
 "Ar. You bett' come round wi' me and 
 get 'er. Or I'll go round meself, if yeh 
 like." 
 
 "No. I'll come wi' yeh. . . . Oh, it can't 
 be 'er. She ain't never done nothing like 
 this before. She was always the straight 
 one among that bunch of kids." 
 
 "Ar. But there's some that 'olds back 
 and 'olds back, and wants to be good, and 
 
 194
 
 twinkle toes 
 
 you'd never think of 'em going orf , and then, 
 all of a sudden, orf they goes — like the rest. 
 That's alwis the way." 
 
 "Oh, 'Ank, don't talk that way. Not 
 about 'er. She was " 
 
 "Come on, ol' man." 
 
 They went out together, Dad still not 
 believing, but too much befogged by the 
 impending police action to make any serious 
 effort with reason. He had been up all 
 night with Chuck, who, in the absence of 
 Perce, had helped him to dispose of certain 
 things whose existence was best forgotten. 
 Of Perce they had assumed naturally that 
 he had got the wire about the coming raid, 
 and had bolted with no spare time in which 
 to warn them. 
 
 At the corner of Cochin Gardens Hank 
 stopped, and Dad became suddenly voluble. 
 
 "Come on. I'm going in. I'm going to 
 see. If she's there, and anything's 'appened, 
 
 I'll get old Roseleaf, and I'll " He 
 
 paused. His face was contorted. "No, 
 
 195
 
 T'wmkletoes 
 
 no, I can't go in. I daren't. I couldn't 
 bear it. If it 'as been — I couldn't face 'er. 
 Not to see 'er — Twinkletoes. My li'l girl. 
 Like that. With 'im, too. No, I can't." 
 
 "Oh, buck up, ol' man. Come on in. 
 'Ave the door down. Get it over with 'im, 
 an' done with it. See what's going on, 'tany- 
 rate." 
 
 "No. I wouldn't dare. It's too bloody. 
 Can't be true. She can't be in there. It 
 ain't even fit to talk about. She can't be in 
 there." He looked up at the house whose 
 drawn blinds and shuttered front gave it the 
 aspect of a menacing creature. 
 
 Carts rumbled and early tramcaj-s hummed, 
 carrying their loads of the day's labor. A 
 Pacific boat had recently berthed, and the 
 gestic crew was making loud progress to the 
 Asiatics' Home. Hoarse cries and the 
 voices of sirens and hooters and the crash of 
 implements came from the river. A sun 
 peered from a grey sky and touched the raw 
 edges of world and people with a wan gold. 
 
 196
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 All externals seemed a part of this sick 
 drama. The very growl of the traffic 
 seemed to Dad like the roll of the drums of 
 fate and the throb of impending doom; and 
 he thought to himself how rum it was that he 
 should have thought of a rum thing like that 
 at such a time. 
 
 He irradiated alternately irresolution and 
 a certain sick determination. "Yerss . . . 
 I must go in. I ought to go in. I better 
 go in. . . . Yerss. No, though, I can't. 
 'Ank, you go. I'll wait. I'll " 
 
 " 'Alf-a-mo. 'Ere comes Chuck. Look! 
 'E's seen us." 
 
 Chuck Lightfoot was charging along the 
 road towards them. His customary morning 
 spruceness was gone. He was haggard, 
 irritable. 
 
 "Ah, there y'are, guv'nor. Anything 
 fresh? Thmk we're all right?" 
 
 "Oh, stow it. That don' matter. There's 
 other things. Awful. That ain't nothing 
 
 to this." 
 
 197
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 "Wodyeh talking about? Nothing to 
 what?" 
 
 "See that 'ouse? That's Roseleaf's 'ouse. 
 Twinkletoes is in there. Bin in all night. 
 Drunk when she went in." 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 Hank took up the tale, and gave details 
 and lucidity. 
 
 Chuck listened attentively. Strange hues 
 chased each other across his face until they 
 settled in a grej^ness very terrible. 
 
 "I tell the ol' man we ought to go in and 
 see " 
 
 "Look!" snapped Chuck. He pointed to 
 the house. 
 
 The door had opened. Twinkletoes ap- 
 peared. Her face was white and strained. 
 Her clothes had been thrown on. Her 
 cheeks beneath the eyes were blackened with 
 dark lines. Her eyes were weary but lit 
 with an uncomely lustre. Her mouth was 
 slack. There was nothing of Twinkletoes 
 about her. She stood shakily, looking on 
 
 198
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 the empty street and the sick morning. 
 
 Very swiftly something came to Dad: 
 some sudden change of idea or purpose which 
 communicated itself to the very lines of his 
 figure. Where a moment ago he had sug- 
 gested helplessness he carried himself with 
 steadfastness. He gripped Chuck's arm; 
 then cried in a loud voice: "Twinks! My 
 Twinks!" 
 
 She turned, and saw the three at the 
 corner. She blinked dazily, but her brain 
 told her that they knew and must be 
 avoided. She saw old Dad spring towards 
 her. One thought alone possessed him: 
 Twinkletoes. Gone was all idea of payment 
 to Roseleaf; gone all doubt or disbelief in 
 his girl; gone all loathing of the idea that 
 she had done wrong. She was here; she 
 would want him. But as he approached 
 she screamed, and darted for the gate. The 
 presence of those men filled her with a 
 sudden terror. She fought at the latch like 
 an imprisoned animal. She was mad with 
 
 199
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 dread, while knowing no reason for it. Only- 
 she knew that she must get away and hide. 
 
 But the latch stuck, and Dad was upon 
 her. He caught her in his arms, even as she 
 loosened it and turned to fly. 
 
 "Oh Twinks, my liT Twinks. Oh, God 
 my HT kiddie." 
 •Hank and Chuck crossed to them. 
 
 "Lemme go," she snapped, between her 
 teeth, very quietly. "Lemme go. Don't 
 touch me." 
 
 "Oh, Twinks, what'd 'e do to yeh?" 
 
 "Shut up. Don't. Don't ask me." 
 
 "Oh, my dearie. Nev' mind. Were 'ere." 
 
 "Oh, go 'way. Lemme go. Leave me 
 alone." 
 
 "Oh, Twinks, come 'long 'ome. There — 
 nev' mind. I know all about it. Yer all 
 right now.'* 
 
 But still she struggled. "Oh, what's it 
 matter? It's done, now. I don't wanter 
 see none of you — never again. I'm a beast." 
 
 "Oh, Twinks, you ain't. You're my 
 
 ' 200
 
 'Twinkletoes 
 
 Twinkletoes. Oh, yeh dunno what yer say- 
 ing. Come 'ome now, there's a dearie." 
 
 "Go, 'way. Lemnie be. Can't I do what 
 I like? Can't I go orf the rails same's 
 ev^erybody else? Eh?" 
 
 With a savage wrench she tore herself 
 free. Chuck grabbed at her flying frock, 
 but the tucks came out with a rip, and she 
 escaped. Next moment the tortured little 
 frame fled down the street and turned into 
 the chain of courts that led from Cochin 
 Gardens. 
 
 Dad looked idiotic and forlorn. He leaned 
 against the railings of Roseleaf's house, 
 pufling. He turned to Chuck and Hank. 
 His hands fumbled. 
 
 "She don't want us," he said, looking in 
 the direction she had taken. "She don't 
 seem to want us." 
 
 Chuck stood staring fixedly at the house. 
 
 201
 
 X 
 
 DAD wandered away, and reached 
 Shantung Place with Chuck without 
 knowing how he got there. He went 
 from room to room, hut found no Twinkle- 
 toes; nothing to flood the day with silver 
 and make work a sacrament and not a mere 
 function. 
 
 Foolishly he looked under beds and in 
 cupboards, and in the tiny space of back 
 yard. 
 
 Then he stood in the kitchen like a som- 
 nambulist, his thoughts dancing a rag-time. 
 
 "They'll be 'ere in a minute, I s'pose," he 
 said to Chuck. 
 
 "Brace up, guv'nor. The game's on'y 
 just beginning. You'll want yer strength." 
 He was strangely unmoved by the catas- 
 trophe. "We've 'ad the wire. That means 
 somebody's giving us a chance. Territon, 
 perhaps ; 'e's alwis bin matey wi' me. You're 
 all right. They can't fix us if we're careful. 
 
 And you got to be careful. It's your job. 
 
 202
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 For 'er sake. You 'adn't ought to throw up 
 like this. You got to play up to 'er, y'know. 
 You'll want yer strength." 
 
 "No, I sha'n't," said Dad weakly. 
 
 " Wodyeh mean ?" 
 
 "I sha'n't. There ain't no need for it now." 
 
 "Grr. You'll'aveto. For 'er." 
 
 "No. She don't want me now. And as 
 fer piayin' up . . . well ..." He looked 
 round for something to occupy his eyes. 
 "And it's all come to this. After every- 
 thing. All I done. All these struggles. 
 Risks and things. All no good. All gorn 
 fer nothing. All smashed. Smashed to bits. 
 'Er dancing. This little 'ome of ours. That 
 there work-basket I bought for 'er. That 
 Chinese teapot what she bought. And the 
 piano. All fer nothing." 
 
 "Oh, brace up, guv'nor. 'Ave a drink and 
 face it out. Can't you understand they're 
 giving us a chance!" 
 
 "Yerss. And yesterday I meant to take 
 it. But now . . . All our struggles, just 
 
 203
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 for this. Her ruined. Me in quod. Done 
 for — both of us. And where is she now? 
 Why don't she come 'ome? She don't want 
 me. She on'y wants 'er fling. You could 
 see it in 'er face when she come outer that 
 'ouse." 
 
 "Perhaps she's ashamed," suggested 
 Chuck, in a religious tone. 
 
 "Yerss; and good cause to be." Dad 
 suddenly swerved from self-pity to indigna- 
 tion. "Me thinking 'er so pure, so — so 
 different from the other Quayside lot. And 
 me living up to 'er. Tried to. And all the 
 time Oh, don't it make yeh laugh?" 
 
 He broke down across the table in a wail. 
 "My h'l' gel. Twinkletoes^ Pure. And 
 good. I useter take 'er tea and fags every 
 morning in bed. We was so 'appy. We was 
 just like sweet'earts. Living with 'er in the 
 'ouse, she seemed to make everything good. 
 'Cos I was a bloody fool and couldn't see 
 what wasn't under me nose. ... If I only 
 knew where she bolted to. If she'd on'y 
 
 204
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 come 'ome we might fix something. But 
 she don't want me. She's sick of 'er old 
 Dad. Wants 'er fling. She's gorn fair 
 wrong — fer good, I 'spect. Oh! Oh!" 
 
 "Look 'ere, ol' man. I know 'ow our worry 
 at the Works started. Y'know my old cow 
 and me don't get on — about Twinkletoes. 
 Well, y'know that day I give a 'iding to 
 Perce? Well, I went for 'im 'cos 'e touched 
 Twinkletoes. My ol' woman got 'old of 'im, 
 found out why I did it, found out 'e wanted 
 to get back on me, and put 'im wise to fixing 
 us. Showed 'im 'ow to give the whole 
 caboodle away, and then levant. Met 'er 
 'smorning — laughing mad, she was — and she 
 told me. It was 'er way of getting back 
 on me, 'cos of — 'cos of " 
 
 "Huh!" said Dad, barely interested. "I 
 thought there was something behind Perce's 
 staying away. So that's it. So it all comes 
 back to Twinkletoes. Oh, God Almighty." 
 
 Chuck lit a cigarette. "That's why we 
 got to fight it out. It started from 'er, and 
 
 205
 
 Twinkletoes 
 
 it's our job to stop it — for 'er sake. Well, 
 guv'nor, 'ow 'bout it? Going to take a 
 chance?" 
 
 "Oh, don't. Gaucher see it don't matter? 
 I don' care a damn. Don't matter what 
 'appens now. We're done. We're out. 'Er 
 ruined. Ruin and disgrace. Everybody'll 
 know it. All over the place. Can't never 
 'old up our 'eads again. But don't you stop. 
 You take yer chance." 
 
 "I'm going to," said Chuck, with apparent 
 callousness. "So long, guv'nor. It can't 
 be 'elped. These things 'appen every day 
 to someone, and now it's our turn. We got 
 to stick it. It's our luck. So long." 
 
 "So long, boy." 
 
 Chuck left by the back entrance. 
 
 Dad stood by the kitchen table, rigid, for 
 a length of time, until a double knock came 
 at the door. He opened it to Divisional 
 Detective-Inspector Territon. 
 
 "Ah, Minasi. Bin looking fer you. 
 
 There's some trouble about your place, and 
 
 206
 
 ^winklctoes 
 
 I got to make a few inquiries. In the mean- 
 time " He entered, closed the door, took 
 
 some official papers from his pocket, and read 
 from them in a sing-song, detached voice. 
 
 "That's all right," said Dad. "I'm ready. 
 It's quite all right. You don't need to bother 
 with no inquiry. I bin on that lay now for 
 four or five years — reg'lar." 
 
 "It is my duty to warn you that " 
 
 "That's all right. I know all about it. 
 It's quite true. I must a-bin a silly." 
 
 "Well, you better get your hat and coat." 
 
 "Righto." 
 
 "You look pretty bad." 
 
 "That don' matter." 
 
 He threw on hat and coat, and he and 
 Territon went down the street together, 
 Territon chatting amiably about the weather. 
 
 • •••••• 
 
 At midday Cissie Light foot arranged her- 
 self for an excursion. She washed. She 
 dressed with some attention her honey- 
 colored hair, scented it and curled it. She 
 
 207
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 chose a mercerised cotton blouse which began 
 its business as clothing some minutes too late. 
 She also chose appropriate stockings and 
 shoes, bought from the tally-man. 
 
 She took a westward bus, and left it at 
 the corner of Commercial Street. She walked 
 down the street, and was then in the Russian 
 quarter, the most melancholy of all London 
 slums. 
 
 Reaching Brick Lane, she turned, and 
 thereafter made many turns until she rested 
 at a door in a cruel, brooding passage. She 
 knocked. The door was opened by a hairy 
 Russian. 
 
 "Perce?" she asked. 
 
 The Russian inspected her and drew back 
 the door. She entered, and without further 
 talk went up a steep, fusty stair and knocked 
 at a door on a tiny landing. Perce appeared. 
 
 " 'Lo," he said vacantly. 
 
 She pushed her way in and looked round 
 the room. It was dim and fusty, without a 
 carpet. It contained a low, fusty bed, table, 
 
 208
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 chair and samovar. On the table was a glass 
 smelling of vodka. On the chair rested a 
 lamp and a little tin, but no pipe. 
 
 She sat down on the bed. 
 
 "Well, I fixed you all right, ain't I?" 
 
 "Well, I ain't 'card anything so far." 
 
 "No more you won't. You won't be 
 worried. Territon was too anxious to get 
 what I could give 'im. I tied 'im up proper. 
 'E 'adn't got nothing to go on when 'e got 
 the office from the — you know — the place 
 where I started it. I give 'im what 'e wanted 
 on one condition." 
 
 "Ah?" 
 
 "And that was — you." 
 
 "Good." 
 
 "Um. And I fixed everything with 'im, 
 without telling 'im anything 'bout you. 
 You're as safe as 'ouses now. You can come 
 back if yeh like, on'y you'd better run 
 straight fer a bit. They won't touch you, old 
 son. Territon's a damn fool, but 'e's straight. 
 When 'e's give 'is word 'e keeps it.' 
 
 209 
 
 j>
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 "Good. Good. You bin a good pal to 
 me." 
 
 "Yerss, I 'ave. And I got a name, too." 
 
 "Sorry, Cissie. Yerss, you done me 
 proud." 
 
 She leaned back on the bed, her eyes half 
 closed. 
 
 "Well!" she snapped suddenly. 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "Ain't there more ways'n one of saying 
 thank you." 
 
 "Why . . . Well ..." 
 
 "Oh, shut up!" 
 
 "Why, now, I " 
 
 "Perce, now ..." 
 
 "Oh, well, I " He grew awkward, 
 
 hot, inarticulate. He stood by the small 
 stove, looking in all directions. There was 
 a minute's silence. 
 
 "Perce," she said at last, "I ain't told you 
 everything. Come here — there's something 
 else. Come here — 'case anyone's listening." 
 
 He went to her. 
 
 210
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 "Sit down." 
 
 He sat down. 
 
 "Perce," she said, in a voice intentionally 
 weak and intimate, "Chuck's bin such a beast 
 t'me." 
 
 "So?" 
 
 "Yerss." 
 
 "I'm sorry." 
 
 "Ain't I bin a good pal to you?" 
 
 "Course you 'ave." 
 
 "Well, then. You've paid your one on 
 Chuck, without any risk and you couldn't 
 a-done it without me. And you ain't said 
 you're glad yet. Not prop'ly." 
 
 "Oh, well, I am. Reely I am." 
 
 He got up and walked to the window. 
 The woman shut her hands and glared. She 
 thought deeply and coldly. 
 
 "So that's *ow yeh treat yer friends, eh?" 
 
 "Why, now; no. 'Tain't that . . . but 
 ... I mean . . . You don't understand." 
 
 "Grr. I understand right enough. Sooner 
 you're with the rest of 'em the better, I 
 
 211
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 reckon. I s*pose you're after that Minasi 
 kid — eh ? Well, she ain't for things like you. 
 I will say this about the others. Although 
 they make fools of themselves over her, they 
 were straight about 'er. They did take care 
 of 'er. You knovi^ that from when you started 
 messing about with 'er. But you, yeh little 
 snipe, I know what you're after." 
 
 "Now, look 'ere. 'Tain't that at all. You 
 don't understand." 
 
 "Understand yer grandmother!" 
 
 He turned from the window. Clearly he 
 was in a nasty hole. 
 
 "Oh, well." 
 
 "Oh no," she retorted airily, rising from 
 the bed. "I don't want that kind of payment. 
 I don't want to 'ave to ask for thanks. If 
 you ain't got the sense or the decency to be 
 grateful when anyone does you a good turn 
 — why, then, you can — you can go to 'ell," 
 she shouted. "Straightaway. And none too 
 soon neither." She marched to the door. 
 
 "No; but 'ere " 
 
 212
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 "Oh, go and boil yesself. And eat it after- 
 wards." 
 
 The door slammed. 
 
 Perce slouched about the room, hot and, 
 as he put it, fair flummoxed. He had no 
 conscience; it had been stifled by the pipe 
 fumes ; but he hated to hear himself and his 
 tendencies described so fluently. How could 
 anyone get interested in an old thing like 
 Cissie? A great sprawling thing like that. 
 And without any sort of what d'ye call it. 
 But she'd got him. Got him fair. It was 
 fair sickening. He looked again at the lamp 
 and the tin, and regretted that he had left 
 Limehouse in such a hurry that he had for- 
 gotten his pipe. He didn't know anybody in 
 Stepney who had a pipe, or any place nearer 
 than Limehouse where he could get one. She 
 had said he could go back. But that was 
 before the rumpus. He wondered if it was 
 still safe. Whether she would blow the gaff 
 on him at once, or whether he'd have time to 
 nip down to a certain shop in Chinatown, and 
 
 213
 
 liwinkletoes 
 
 get a pipe, and nip away to a certain friend 
 in Netting Dale who might afford him 
 sanctuary. 
 
 Then his thoughts became practical. The 
 sensible thing to do was to levant at once for 
 Notting Dale. She was in a wax, and she'd 
 surely do it on him at the first available 
 moment. He oughtn't to waste a moment. 
 But the imagined fumes of chandoo floated 
 about his face, and all thoughts of safety 
 sped away. He w^anted a smoke. He must 
 have a smoke. He looked longingly at the 
 lamp and the tin. Bliss was there; only 
 a pipe was lacking. Was it worth risking? 
 Foolish hesitation. One smoke was worth 
 any amount of chances. Besides, even if 
 she did peach on him, perhaps they wouldn't 
 be able to prove anything. After all, he'd 
 passed the information. He might turn 
 King's evidence. But supposing he did get 
 jugged. Prison was a horrible place. Why 
 couldn't he make up his mind at once? If 
 he only had a pipe he could think clearly 
 
 214
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 after a smoke and know exactly what was 
 the best thing to do and how to do it. He 
 ought to have a pipe, because then he would 
 have no trouble in planning a get-away; 
 the best place to go to, how long to stay 
 there, and how to fix things with the Notting 
 Dale bloke. 
 
 Pipe won. 
 
 He took a long overcoat and a blue scarf 
 and cap, and went forth to the east. He 
 bought a pipe, and was striding along to the 
 tramcar trembling with anticipation when a 
 bulky figure stopped him. 
 
 "Perce Moxon. ^Vant a word with vou," 
 said the figure with terrifying amiability. 
 
 Perce started like a rabbit, meditated 
 flight, but found his legs unwilling to serve 
 him. He looked up and saw the sonorous per- 
 sonality of Divisional Detective-Inspector 
 Territon standing between him and peace. 
 
 "Let's go somewhere where it's quiet, so's 
 we can talk, shall we?" said Divisional De- 
 tective-Inspector Territon pleasantly. 
 
 215
 
 l^zvinkletoes 
 
 He linked a friendly arm in Perce's, and 
 took him across the road, while the lad 
 mumbled obscene oaths to himself, the pipe 
 protruding from his armpit like a derisive 
 tongue. 
 
 216
 
 XI 
 
 AFTER leaving Shantung Place by 
 the back entrance Chuck Lightfoot 
 did not go home. He went to the 
 house of a boxing friend with whom he some- 
 times stayed after a markedly heavy quarrel 
 with Cissie. 
 
 There he washed his face and took fresh 
 clothes. He dressed hastily, carelessly. He 
 looked with surprise upon his familiar collar 
 and tie and boots. It seemed queer that 
 these commonplace things should have passed 
 with him through such sickening happenings 
 without change. The very sight of them 
 aroused hatred ; putting them on for the last 
 time in such circumstances, he could not for- 
 get how he had arrayed himself in them in 
 pleasant days. 
 
 At eleven o'clock he went out, coming, by 
 shy alleys, to the Quayside. He went un- 
 challenged through the front of the house, 
 and, passing through a heavy door, reached 
 the back. He climbed to Rose leaf's office. 
 
 217
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 Roseleaf was standing before a mirror in 
 which he caught the picture made by Chuck 
 in the doorway. He turned. 
 
 " 'Ullo," he said, with the fatigued affa- 
 bility of the music hall manager. "What you 
 doing 'ere ? Who let you in ?" 
 
 "Walked in." 
 
 "Oh. Well, what's yer business — or yer 
 good news ?" 
 
 "None. Just dropped in to pass the time 
 o' day and what-not. . . . You 'ad a bit of a 
 night last night at the Lantern, didn't you?" 
 
 "A night?" Roseleaf chortled, and then 
 stroked his head with a suggestion of great 
 suffering. "Don't ask me. Talk about a 
 night! Don't know wliether this is Picca- 
 dilly Circus or Good Friday." 
 
 "That's an old one," said Chuck. "You 
 got that from Willie Wangler. But I 'card 
 about the night. By the way, what 'appened 
 to young Twinkletoes — Monica Minasi. She 
 'ad a good oiling, didn't she? Went 'ome 
 wi' you, I 'card." 
 
 218
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 "All, she did. Couldn't shake 'er orf. 
 Never knew I was so fascinating." 
 
 "Urn. 'Er old Dad can't find 'er no- 
 where." 
 
 "No? Well, don' ask me. She come 'ome 
 wi' me, but when I woke up 'bout eight 
 o'clock 'smorning, she was gorn. I dunno 
 what 'appened. I was too boxed. We all 
 were. Fair canned. Up to the Plimsoll 
 mark. What a night? And what a little 
 red wagon that kid is. 'Strewth !" 
 
 "I believe yeh," said Chuck appreciatively. 
 He entered pleasantly into the spirit of The 
 Night. " 'Er old Dad see 'er come from your 
 place, but she done a bunk soon's she saw 
 
 im. 
 
 "Aha! Didn't want to be caught on the 
 naughty-naughty, eh?" 
 
 "That's about it." He leant casually 
 against the doorway, smiling and chuckling 
 in response to Roseleaf, who rattled on at 
 his whimsical confessions. "Must a-bin a 
 night. Sorry I missed it." 
 
 219
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 "You'll have to come along another night," 
 said the genial adventurer. "What a fur- 
 nace! I shall never remember all what 
 'appened after we left the Lantern together 
 — nor won't no one else. Never saw a crowd 
 so hinged as we were. If you got a 'ead like 
 what I got this morning you'd be raving mad. 
 I got some kind o' faint recollection that 
 when we got indoors we — aha!" 
 
 "Aha!" echoed Chuck. "I bet you did. 
 Trust you. And then?" 
 
 "Ah, no. No telling tales. I won't give 
 it away. Never give anyone away yet. No 
 one can't ever say that o' me. ... I feel 
 I ought t'ave enjoyed myself, and I s'pose 
 I did; but 'tain't no good enjoying yesself 
 if yeh can't remember it, is it? I wonder 
 what she feels like 'smorning. Pretty rotten, 
 I guess, what with one thing and another. 
 Well, we only live once, and I say " 
 
 He stopped. He had his back to Chuck, 
 and was standing at the mirror arranging his 
 elaborate lilac-sprigged neck-tie. Through 
 
 220
 
 '^winkletoes 
 
 the mirror he saw that Chuck had taken four 
 quick steps, and now stood behind him. In 
 his hand he held a life-preserver. It was 
 raised. 
 
 Markie Roseleaf was jerked from his over- 
 night stupor with a cold shock. The shock 
 brought a certain streak of sense to him. 
 Sense sufficient to stimulate quick thought; 
 sufficient to realize the imminence of attack ; 
 sufficient to know that he must act at once; 
 sufficient to plan four ways of putting Chuck 
 fair and square on the floor. But though 
 his brain moved rapidly, it was moving with- 
 out control from him; he could do nothing. 
 Through the mirror he saw the preserver 
 descend. 
 
 Markie Roseleaf dropped in an untidy 
 heap before his mirror. He heard Chuck 
 say: 
 
 "Die— you! Die! Fer Twinkletoes !" 
 
 Three times the preserver descended, and 
 Markie Roseleaf died ere his lips had finished 
 mumbling: " '&<? — stoii it now." 
 
 221
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 Chuck wiped the preserver with the inside 
 of his coat, and stuffed it in his trousers 
 pocket. Then he went out, carefully closing 
 and locking the door behind him. He re- 
 turned to the house where he had made his 
 toilet. 
 
 • •••••* 
 
 Cissie Lightf oot was white with rage as she 
 walked from Stepney to Poplar. When she 
 reached home she opened a bottle of beer 
 and ruminated, while swallowing sobs of 
 mortification. That filthy little Perce to 
 turn her down ! She had not only done him 
 a tremendous service; she had paid him 
 the compliment of going to his rooms; and 
 he had given her the frozen face. However, 
 she had settled with him: a few words to 
 Territon had dragged his particular pride to 
 dust. 
 
 It seemed that things were not developing 
 
 at all as she had projected. She had paid 
 
 Twinkletoes, the principal cause of her 
 
 domestic distress; and she had paid Chuck 
 
 222
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 and others of the gang who had worshipped 
 the kid. But where did she come in? She 
 had looked to receive as well as pay. She 
 had overlooked the fact that disposing of 
 certain troublesome people would have the 
 effect of leaving her very lonely ; and it was 
 only when she realized this that she made 
 her random cast at Perce, who should have 
 provided solace, lacking anything better. 
 Now that he had thrown her down she was 
 left stranded, and she began to cast about 
 her for some possible pickings. 
 
 From the muddy bottom of the beer bottle 
 crawled an idea : Twinkletoes. 
 
 Nobody knew of Cissie's part in the game. 
 She was the stricken wife of a bad man who 
 had brought disgrace upon her by his secret 
 misdeeds. That disgrace had fallen on other 
 people too; there would be quite a lot of 
 trouble around Poplar. Well, now, how 
 commendable it would be if the stricken wife 
 should come forward to soothe a fellow- 
 sufferer. After the arrest of the gang 
 
 223
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 Twinkletoes would be left friendless and 
 probably homeless, for since her behavior 
 with Roseleaf no respectable people would 
 take her in. But one of the sorrowing 
 company could do so without arousing 
 neighborly comment other than approval of 
 a praiseworthy action. 
 
 Yes, she would do the beautiful thing. 
 She would take Twinkletoes into her home 
 and look after her; and she could explain 
 to any who wondered that, after the trouble 
 she herself had gone through, she had a 
 fellow-feeling for others, and desired, if 
 possible, to rescue Twinkletoes from the evil 
 associations with which she was surrounded, 
 so that the child should have every chance 
 of avoiding such disaster as had fallen on 
 Cissie, and be safe from any temptation of 
 getting into bad hands and going perma- 
 nently wrong. 
 
 The more she rested upon the idea the 
 
 more closely she cuddled it. The child had 
 
 never suspected her; had always been 
 
 224
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 friendly; and in the panic that would seize 
 her at the downfall of her little world she 
 would be ready to fly to any arms that 
 promised a haven. 
 
 As she thought of that white flake of girl- 
 hood, her mind turned into itself and wove 
 intricate patterns from certain amiable 
 dreams which had frequently, though not 
 markedly, visited her. She suffered hectic 
 raptures; scaled secret topless heavens. All 
 Poplar would know by now what kind of 
 child was T^^inkletoes. She would let the 
 neighbors know that she intended to bring 
 her up by rigid rules, keep her straight. 
 She would properly guard her, and whatever 
 measures she might find it necessary to 
 employ would be universally tolerated, for 
 all would recognize the need for a firm hand 
 when dealing with such a bad girl. She would 
 be a mother to her, or, in the event of her 
 playing any more wicked games, a step- 
 mother. 
 
 She chuckled. She inspected her hands 
 
 225
 
 1^ winkle toes 
 
 as she pondered — long cold hands and arms 
 that hung like silver swords. Monstrous 
 emblems arose in her mind and produced a 
 condition of agreeable hebetude. She had 
 cast herself for the part of stepmother, and 
 it appealed to her; it contained possibilities. 
 With Twinkletoes on call, tedium would be 
 pleasantly negatived. Beer and tobacco and 
 tea were losing their bite on her; this new 
 distraction promised the filling of many 
 waste hours of day and night; and she 
 shivered in a mood of intoxication keener 
 and sweeter than any that alcohol had given 
 her. There would henceforth be no need to 
 keep beer about her; when she wanted 
 amusement she would have it at hand. She 
 drifted into reverie, and floated on adumbra- 
 tions of luxuriant indulgence. With the door 
 of her ugly room locked, the blinds down, 
 and the crevices of the windows muffled 
 . . . she stretched her hands as though 
 Twinkletoes were already within grasp. 
 Yes, it was a pleasant idea. She would have 
 
 226
 
 l!winkletoes 
 
 complete license to do as she liked, and there 
 could be no fear of subsequent trouble, for 
 by the time the gang came out of prison she 
 would be in other quarters with Twinkletoes 
 well broken to her will. 
 
 Later she began her search for the child. 
 She was sure to be somewhere about. She 
 went at first to the man most likely to know : 
 one Spud Cohen, who, trading as Gaston 
 Leclercq, combined various businesses: that 
 of variety agent, turf commission agent, 
 moneylender, private inquiry agent. Spud 
 Cohen, like Hank Hogan, knew all that 
 happened in the district ; it was his business, 
 where it was Hank's pastime. She did not 
 go to Hank; she feared to make too many 
 inquiries in that quarter. 
 
 Spud Cohen was at his office — one little 
 room in East India Dock Road. He was 
 greasily dark, and was lazilj^ dressed in soup- 
 splashed clothes. Rings glittered blatantly 
 on his fat fingers, and a cigar rode jauntily 
 on his lips. His features were small, with 
 
 227
 
 'Twinkletoes 
 
 eyes that seemed to deny their existence. 
 
 "I'm looking for a girl," said Cissie. 
 
 "So'ml. We all are. All the time. Aha!" 
 
 "Yes; but I mean a partie'lar one." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Minasi's kid — the dancer. Seen 'er?" 
 
 "She was trotting around 'ere. Bin 
 trotting round all day, I think. Looking 
 scared like." 
 
 "Well, I want to see 'er partie'lar. If 
 any of the boys come across 'er you might 
 get 'em to send 'er along to me at my place. 
 Tell 'er I got something important t'say." 
 
 "Righto. By the way, Chuck's mixed up 
 in this Minasi business, ain't he?" 
 
 "Yerss." 
 
 "Bin copped yet?" 
 
 "I dunno. Ain't seen 'im since 'smorning, 
 and then 'e on'y swore at me and marched 
 on. I 'spect they got 'im by now, though." 
 
 "Mm. Nasty business fer you. Sorry." 
 
 "Thanks. Can't be 'elped. Don't forget 
 
 about that kid." 
 
 228
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 "Righto. I'll send 'er along if we come 
 across 'er." 
 
 At four o'clock Cissie heard a knock at the 
 door, and when she opened it a pale, beaten 
 figure crawled into her menacing room. All 
 buoyance was gone from her step, all 
 laughter from her face, all tranquillity from 
 her heart. Her legs that had danced so many 
 glad legends to Poplar people lagged. Her 
 arms hung like withered flowers. She had 
 been across the river all day at Rotherhithe, 
 wandering and dreaming and brooding. The 
 stupor from the previous night had been 
 blown away, and her mind and body were 
 now clear — clear to accept all the misery that 
 had been hurled upon them. If only she 
 had known, it wouldn't have been so bad. 
 If they had told her, if she had been aware 
 all along of her old Dad's game, she would 
 not have minded. She would have loved him 
 as deeply, and his little aberrations from 
 honestly would not have troubled her, for 
 she had a great capacity for smiling on sin 
 
 229
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 and roguery. It was the deceit and trickery 
 that so hurt her. She had been brought up 
 to regard theft and forgeiy not as wicked 
 things, but as things which pleasant people 
 didn't do. She had been brought up to 
 regard her Dad as a straight man; he had 
 carefully nourished that illusion; and all 
 the time he had been a bad man. If only 
 he had let her into his secret, she would have 
 supported him cheerfully. But to think 
 that he and Chuck and Hank Hogan and 
 the Pearly Prince and Dick the Duke and 
 Wallopy had all been in this conspiracy to do 
 dirty things and keep all knowledge of their 
 ways from her, and leave her to find it out 
 after the whole world knew. . . . 
 
 If she had known, she would still have 
 admired him, still have kept herself straight, 
 still have been happy. Instead, she had been 
 kept in the dark, and now that light had come 
 to her from alien skies it had dazzled and 
 bemused her. 
 
 The first realization of her position came 
 
 230
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 in the yellow evening when a far-away organ 
 gurgled one of her dance tunes, a lonely 
 melody shot with the sadness of happy things 
 enchained; and she discovered a longing for 
 somewhere to rest, for some face that she 
 knew, some familiar background. 
 
 People recognized her in the street, and 
 pitied her, but passed without the customary 
 greeting, kindly or flippant. Trouble was 
 coming to the Minasi group, they had heard, 
 and when they saw her they passed to the 
 ether side or disappeared into shops. It was 
 none of their business. You see, you could 
 never tell. You might easy get mixed up in 
 a thing like that, and have to go to court as 
 a witness, and have your name printed in the 
 papers, and everything; and look at the dis- 
 grace and the exhibition you made of yourself 
 then. 
 
 Thoughts of her companions came to her, 
 but she felt that she could not face Dad, even 
 if he were free and she could find him, and 
 she didn't want Lilac or Wallopy or the 
 
 231
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 Pearly Prince. There remained Chuck, and 
 it was to Chuck that she instinctively turned. 
 As his name came to her, she suffered a 
 gnawing hunger for his stolid presence; he 
 would understand. So she returned immedi- 
 ately to Limehouse, through the Rotherhithe 
 Tunnel, and at its mouth she met a lad who 
 gave her Mrs Lightfoot's message. At once 
 she sped to the Lightfoot home, connecting 
 Chuck with the message and thinking to find 
 him there. 
 
 "I 'card you 'ad something to tell me," she 
 said, as she stood before the smiling Cissie. 
 
 "Yes, dear. Sit down. I was wondering 
 about you. What you going to do now ?" 
 
 "Oh, I dunno. Where's Chuck? Ain't 
 e eref 
 
 "No. I dunno where 'e is. I ain't seen 
 'im all day. I expect 'e's copped, same's as 
 your father." 
 
 "Dad copped?" 
 
 "Um." 
 
 "Oh! Oh, lemme find Chuck!" 
 
 232
 
 I'winklefoes 
 
 "Well, now, never mind Chuck. You're 
 in trouble, dearie, and I don't know what'll 
 become of you, things being as they are. So 
 I thought I'd better find you and look after 
 you. You won't be able to keep that 'ouse 
 up, and you'll probably get the sack from 
 the Quayside over last night. You was 
 silly not to come away from 'im when I told 
 vou. However, it's done now. So I'm " 
 
 But Twinkletoes was not listening. She 
 stood limply, with a distant expression on her 
 face. 
 
 "I want Chuck," she said stupidly. 
 
 "I tell you 'e ain't 'ere. You're going 
 to stop with me now, and I'll see that you 
 don't get into any further mischief. You'll 
 be all right with me, dearie." She looked 
 fondly at the child, and found herself all-of- 
 a-trembling at the limitless prospect before 
 her. The forlorn, helpless figure set her 
 pulses leaping as though some strange beast 
 were inside her. 
 
 "No, I want Chuck. I want to talk to 
 
 233
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 Chuck. Ain't 'e coming back 'ere soon?" 
 
 "No, I tell yeh. Come 'ere to me, child." 
 
 "I must find Chuck. I must." 
 
 "No, you mustn't. You're not going out 
 again to-day, me lady. If no one else won't 
 look after yeh, I will. And later on you'll 
 thank me. You'll thank me for taking care 
 of yeh. You're going to be my little girl 
 now, and now I've got you 'ere you'll stay 
 'ere. You bad girl. If you think you're 
 going off gallivanting again to-night, you're 
 wrong. Just because yer Dad's gorn, don't 
 think yeh can do what yeh like. Them that's 
 older'n you will 'ave to look after you and 
 stop you from doing dirty tricks that'll 
 lead you to don't know what. My 'usband 
 worked fer your Dad, so the least I can do is 
 to look after the boss' kid." 
 
 "Oh, don't. I want Chuck." 
 
 "It's all through yer Dad's spoiling you 
 that yeh've gorn wrong. I'm going to make 
 it my business to see that yeh don't go wrong 
 again. See, child? And when you've got 
 
 234
 
 twinkle toes 
 
 over this nasty mood you'll thank me. See? 
 No nonsense, now. What you want Chuck 
 for? Always 'anging round my 'usband you 
 are, yeh nasty girl. I believe you got some- 
 thing on with 'im, yeh dirty thing! You're 
 not going out again. Best place fer you is 
 bed. Go on. Get into the bedroom, and 
 don't let me 'ear another word from veh." 
 
 "No. I got to see Chuck." 
 
 She turned away. Cissie darted forward. 
 "Stop 'ere — you. Don't you dare " 
 
 But Twinkletoes had turned the handle. 
 Cissie stretched a long arm and grabbed one 
 of the drooping curls. With a swift move- 
 ment Twinkletoes turned and struck the 
 hand away, and scuttered down the stairs. 
 Cissie rushed to the landing. "Come back 
 — you. Come back. Stop 'er, someone. 
 
 You " Then: "Gorn. Damn and blast 
 
 'er. After Chuck, too, the little cat. Nev' 
 mind. I'll get 'er to-morrow. I'll get 
 Territon on to 'er, and get 'em to detain 'er. 
 And when I do get 'er . . . " 
 
 235
 
 XII 
 
 WHEN Chuck returned to his tem- 
 porary lodging after settling his 
 account with Markie Roseleaf he 
 fell into a chair before an empty grate and 
 wandered in a night of thought. He thought 
 of his first meeting with Twinkletoes; how 
 the loveliness of her had swept into his dusty 
 soul and cleared it of many foul spots ; how, 
 though he had sunk into a pool of drink, his 
 mind, through his squalid defiance of life, 
 had been sweeter and cleaner than it was 
 when he had accepted life and lived 
 straightly. It seemed strange that this 
 should be so ; but he was no philosopher, and 
 he let it pass. He thought of his common- 
 place marriage, and the terrible woman who 
 was Mrs. Lightfoot. He thought of his early 
 athletic days when nothing worried him; 
 when he knew nothing of beauty or of love, 
 and was content. He thought of the storms 
 that Twinkletoes had brought into his placid 
 
 career. 
 
 236
 
 Twinkletoes 
 
 Since he had known her he had seen his 
 life and its surrounding from a detached 
 point, and all had seemed dirty. All his 
 possessions became mean. Limehouse was 
 dirty. Boxing was a dirty game. The Blue 
 Lantern was dirty. Beer-drinking was dirty. 
 His wife and his home were dirty. His early 
 disregard of the dirt had been dirty. His 
 habits and speech were squalid. There was 
 nowhere any touch of the decencies, the finer 
 lights of existence. He felt that all folk 
 must despise him as he despised himself. 
 All those things which were not part of the 
 glory of Twinkletoes he loathed. At sight 
 of her he would become precipitately abject: 
 a thing of no account. Everything pertain- 
 ing to him was without wholesomeness and 
 dirty; so dirty, he felt, that, however he 
 labored, he should never fully cleanse it. 
 Wherefore he let it go, contented himself 
 with loving Twinkletoes and refreshing his 
 soul, while his animal self added dirt to dirt 
 through the doors of the Blue Lantern. 
 
 237
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 But that was all over. He was through. 
 At last his hell had burnt itself out, and he 
 was free of further torments. He sat, unable 
 to move, for many hours, until the wide after- 
 noon shrank imperceptibly into scrupulous 
 dusk, and snow began dejectedly to fall. 
 
 It fell upon a slinking, pursued little figure 
 that crept towards this house, her black frock 
 fluttering against the whitened street like a 
 great moth. At the house she hesitated; 
 then moved to the window which stood flush 
 with the street. The blind was up, and, as 
 she peered, she saw, and gave a half- 
 strangled gasp of relief at the slack form of 
 Chuck, head on chest, stretched in a chair. 
 She tapped the window. He looked up 
 swiftly. "Oh, Chuck, Chuck, I want you," 
 she Vv'hispered to herself. 
 
 He stood for a moment blinking at the 
 window and the round, peering face that 
 filled it, as a man might at some improbable 
 ghost. 
 
 Then he opened the door, and she tottered 
 
 238
 
 l!wmkletoes 
 
 in, her little shoulders powdered with snow, 
 her throat and young breast wet with it. She 
 tottered in and fell to the low chair. 
 
 "Oh, Chuck, Chuck!" 
 
 "Twinkles! Oh, my dear. My sweet!" 
 was all he found to saj^ 
 
 He went to her, and knelt before her, and 
 she clung to him as to the only tangible, 
 steadfast thing in a world of shadows. Arms 
 locked, breast to breast, they lay until the 
 dark came, and the frail, heaving body found 
 rest. Then she talked stupidly, as people talk 
 whose sensibilities are in suspended animation, 
 
 "Oh, Chuck, why's all this 'appened? 
 Why's it all come like this? Dad a swindler, 
 JNIe gorn wrong. You a swindler. Prince 
 and Duke and Wallopjr — all swindlers. All 
 going to prison. Oh, why wasn't I told about 
 it? Going on all this time. And I trusted 
 Dad and everybody so. I thought they w^as 
 all good. Seems like everybody's bad." 
 
 Chuck crouched in silence. There was no 
 defence. 
 
 239
 
 'Twinkletoes 
 
 "Twinks," he said at last, "it's funny., 
 . . . We've all bin bad 'im's, and all this 
 'as 'appened 'cos of you." 
 
 "Me?" 
 
 "Um. Your Dad wasn't bad. 'E done 
 what 'e done 'cos of you. 'E done it just to 
 get enough money to give you a chance, and 
 then 'e meant to drop it. 'E 'ated doing it. 
 And 'e wouldn't do lots o' things 'e might 
 'ave done that'd bring in a lot o' money. 
 Just enough to get you started — that was 
 all 'e w^anted. And 'e worshipped you so. 
 Like me. 
 
 "Twinks, I ain't got much time left. 
 They'll be after me, soon. But you know, 
 sweet'eart, 'ow I've loved you, don't you? 
 I 'ave. Love you like I never loved anything 
 before. You'll never know what you was to 
 me. You're so young and I'm older, but I 
 loved only you. Nobody's ever loved me. 
 All my life I've wanted to be M^anted. Chaps 
 are like that, reely, more'n girls. When I 
 
 first see you, there was something — some- 
 
 240
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 thing — I dunno. I knew nothing'd be the 
 same afterwards. I knew you was part of 
 my life then." 
 
 She moaned and leaned towards him, but 
 took his declaration of love without foolish 
 wonderment. Subconsciously she had known 
 his feelings about her. He took her fragile 
 form again into his arms, and kissed her cold 
 cheek and her lips, murmuring: "O lovely, 
 my lovely!" Lips locked to lips they lay in 
 the austere intoxication of first love; and 
 even while his mind cried at what he felt to 
 be sacrilege, he showered kisses upon her face 
 and neck. It didn't matter. It was the last 
 time. The end was near. Something enor- 
 mous and supernally beautiful came to him in 
 those embraces. He became transfigured. 
 He discovered some new strength in himself ; 
 some revealed significance in common things 
 and the squalid story of which he was a part. 
 
 "Twinkles, my lovely. That's the first and 
 last time I shall ever kiss you. Funny — but 
 it seems like there's something behind all this. 
 
 241
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 Something kind of big — better than us. It's 
 all round everything; sort of as if you'd 
 found something you'd bin looking for a long 
 time and then forgotten. You — so lovely 
 and good — and then all the trouble, and — 
 and everything. And if you, dear, 'adn't 
 been so lovely and good it wouldn't never 
 'ave 'appened. I wouldn't a-done what 
 started it." 
 
 "What started it?" 
 
 "Um. Me going fer young Perce — ^that 
 was what started it. When 'e messed you 
 about that day. I thrashed 'im." 
 
 "Oh, Chuck." 
 
 "Your Dad was just throwing up the 
 crooked business, and nobody 'd ever 'ave 
 'card anything about it if we'd stopped then. 
 But my missus got 'old of Perce. She knew 
 I loved you and she 'ated you and me 'cos of 
 it. So she got back on both of us by putting 
 Perce up to giving us away, knowing 'e owed 
 me a grudge fer that thrashing." 
 
 "Oh, what's the matter with me that I've 
 
 242
 
 Hwinkletoes 
 
 brought all this on ev'body? And you, 
 Chuck — I was alwis fond of you. You was 
 so splendid and strong and kind. What did 
 you go in for the dirty work for?" 
 
 "I din' go in fer it until after yer Dad 'ad 
 started it, and I met you. I was driv to it, 
 Twinks. By you. It was 'ell 'cos I loved 
 j-ou, and you wouldn't never be anything to 
 me, and my missus gave me 'ell too 'cos I got 
 fed up on 'er. I couldn't face things after I 
 met you. Nothing seemed good 'cept you." 
 
 "Oh, me — good!" she said ironically. 
 
 "So I went on the drink, and then got in 
 with your Dad's business. It was all that 
 Avas left." 
 
 "It seems such a muddle, don't it. Chuck? 
 And I never knew nothing. Me doing all 
 tliis. And all I wanted to do was to make 
 ev'body 'appy." 
 
 " Yerss, I know. But there y'are. Things 
 go their own way; and you can't help 'em." 
 
 She broke down in a little tempest of sobs. 
 "People used to love me so, and say I was 
 
 243
 
 l!winkletoes 
 
 pretty and make 'em feel good, and all I 
 do is to bring rottenness everywhere. All 
 this 'cos I made people love me. Oh, Chuck, 
 do you remember our afternoons in the 
 Works when we was so 'appy?" 
 
 "Yes, dear, I remember. But I wasn't 
 'appy. I w as miserable, reely, but " 
 
 "I'm sorry. More sorry now. . . . And 
 do you remember the night at the party when 
 Wallopy made that speech about me — and 
 the things I said? I never thought what was 
 coming. Silly fool — I thought everything 
 was going on always like that. Then, do 
 you remember that night I come to see you 
 fight at Battling's Ring — and you gave me 
 one of your gloves after the fight? I've got 
 it still — at home — in my drawer. And how I 
 told you, first time I met you — that I'd be 
 your sweetheart. I didn't understand then, 
 Chuck. I do now. I know such a lot now. 
 Chuck." 
 
 "Oh, my dear, I remember. All of it. 
 But don't talk about it. It'll only hurt you 
 
 244
 
 ^winklctoes 
 
 worse. I ain't told you all yet, Twinks. 
 Your Dad was arrested to-day. He could 
 'ave made a clear case and got off. Some- 
 body was giving us a chance. They couldn't 
 'ave proved much against 'im. But when 
 'e 'card what 'appened to you, 'e didn't seem 
 to care like. Lost all interest. Waited for 
 'em, and when they came 'e confessed. I 
 'card about it. Twinks, m'l ask you a 
 question?" 
 
 "Um." 
 
 He hesitated, searching for delicate words 
 and finding none. "Twinks — what made you 
 go to the Lantern last night and go wrong 
 with Roseleaf ?" 
 
 "Oh, I dunno. I was mad. Everybody 
 knew about Dad, and when I got to the 
 theatre all the girls chipped me and ragged 
 me. And when I found it was true I didn't 
 care what I did. Nothing seemed to matter 
 then. If *e'd gorn wrong there was nothing 
 for me to keep straight for. Then I got mad 
 and didn't care what I did. Dad was a 
 
 245
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 forger, and never let me know. Deceiving 
 me like that." 
 
 "Yes; but, Twinks, don' be 'ard on 'im. 
 'E didn't like doing it and 'e done it all fer 
 you." 
 
 "Um. That's what's so awful about it. 
 Everybody who loved me seems to 'ave 
 copped out. All through me. Me — Monica 
 Minasi — a kid." 
 
 "There's still something else you got to 
 'ear, Twinks. You won't never see me again, 
 I sha'n't never come out o' prison." 
 
 "Chuck — no, no!" 
 
 "Yes. Y'know Roseleaf ?" 
 
 "Um." 
 
 "I went round and killed 'im 'smorninff." 
 
 She gave a short scream, and her eyes held 
 terror. "Killed?" she whispered. "Killed?" 
 
 "Yes. 'Cos of what 'e done to you last 
 night." 
 
 She sagged from his arms and lay limp, 
 staring upon him with stricken eves and 
 dropped mouth. The tortures of the last 
 
 246
 
 'T'wmkletoes 
 
 twenty-four hours had deadened her senses, 
 and it was some time before this fresh blow 
 brought with it fresh pain. 
 
 She pressed her hands to her ears. "Oh! 
 Oh! Me — again? And you'll be " 
 
 "Yes. I felt like killing my missus too. 
 It started with 'er. But I didn't. I'll let 
 'er live it out." 
 
 "Oh! Oh! You murdered someone?" 
 She suddenly thrust out her legs, and 
 screamed silly screams and laughed. "Forg- 
 ing. Murdering. Getting drunk. Going 
 like a street girl. Aha! So this is what 
 loving people means. Is it like this with 
 ev'body? And we was so 'appy." There 
 came a swift revulsion of feeling. She flung 
 herself forward and upon Chuck, screaming: 
 "Save me! Save me! Oh, Chuck — save me. 
 Me and you. Save yourself. You can't 
 
 be Oh, save me! I'm so frightened!" 
 
 She flung impassioned arms about him. 
 
 He grew delirious and babbled foolish 
 words. "Oh, my little love, my little sweet- 
 
 247
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 'eart. Oh, I can't. I can't do nothing for 
 yeh. My little bird. O lovely girl. O little 
 princess, I can't 'elp you." 
 
 She pushed him away and tumbled in a 
 heap to the chair, wailing and crooning and 
 making noises terrible to hear. 
 
 "Oh, what's to become of me? Oh, Jesus, 
 save me. I ain't done nothing to deserve all 
 this. I'm on'y a kid. I ain't got nowhere to 
 go now. Mrs. Lightfoot 'ates me. I'm 
 ruined. Disgraced forever. I ain't got no 
 friends to go to. Oh, God, God." 
 
 "Twinkles, Twinkles. Don't. You 'urt 
 me so. It ain't no good. It's all 'appened 
 like this. 'Tain't nobody's fault." 
 
 She lay back and panted, and after a while 
 grew calmer. 
 
 Presently she spoke: "Chuck — get me a 
 drop o' water." 
 
 He went to the back of the house for the 
 water. When he returned with it she was 
 
 gone. 
 
 He set it on the mantleshelf and looked 
 
 248
 
 l! winkle toes 
 
 at the black grate and then at the chair where 
 she had sat. 
 
 "Ah, well," he said. "Ah, well," and flung 
 the water into the fireplace. 
 
 Later he went out and called at the Blue 
 Lantern. 
 
 "Pint o' the Old, Dickery." 
 
 He looked at the pint of the Old, and 
 remembered how often he had looked at 
 similar pints in this bar; and he fumbled 
 with the thought that this would be the last 
 time he would look at a pint. He thought 
 of all the commonplace acts of his daily day, 
 and they became alive with interest and 
 strangely lovely. He thought of his morning 
 walk to the Works, and the people he met 
 as he passed down the street. He thought 
 of his bus rides to the west, and the 
 elaborate bars where he met the successful 
 boys who placed the spurious notes manu- 
 factured by Minasi. He remembered how 
 the morning sunshine fell on the streets, on 
 St. Paul's Cathedral, on Temple Bar, on the 
 
 249
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 Gaiety Theatre, and he remembered these 
 places as the most beautiful of all landmarks. 
 He thought of his beer and bread-and-cheese 
 at eleven o'clock; of his cup of tea at the 
 Works with Twinkletoes; of the sociable 
 evenings with the boys; of his Sunday 
 jaunts to the Forest; of his morning shave; 
 of his Saturday night bath; and the pain- 
 fully romantic Saturday evenings when he 
 watched Twinkletoes dancing at the Quay- 
 side; and he could have wept for the hidden 
 charm of these things suddenly revealed to 
 his parting glance. They sped through his 
 mind in the brief moment between stretching 
 his hand to the tankard and grabbing it and 
 drinking largely. Then, as the stuff assuaged 
 the scorching of his throat, he was instantly 
 cold and calm. 
 
 Hank Hogan was in his corner, sup- 
 pressing, at great strain, the news of the day. 
 
 " 'Lo, Chuck. 'Eard about it?" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " 'Bout Roseleaf." 
 
 250
 
 twinkle toes 
 
 "Yes, I 'eard about it. Found dead, 
 wasn t e { 
 
 "Ar. Smashed to pieces. Rotten business 
 last day or two, ain't it?" 
 
 "Yes; ev'body's copping the knock." 
 
 "Ar. They got the Dook and the Prince 
 and Wailopy to-day. Minasi give 'imself up, 
 too." He lowered his voice. "They ain't 
 got you yet. Can they pinch you on it, or 
 are you fixed?" 
 
 "Oh no. They'll 'ave me when they like." 
 
 "Ar. Wonder who done Roseleaf in?" 
 
 "I wonder." 
 
 Hank looked closely at him. Chuck met 
 the glance. 
 
 " 'E cert'ny asked for it," said Hank. 
 
 " 'E did. An' 'e got it." 
 
 "Ar." 
 
 Again they exchanged glances. Then Hank 
 looked away and became silent. There was 
 never a man like Hank for minding his own 
 business at the right moment. Chuck fin- 
 ished his pint and moved to the door. 
 
 251
 
 1^ winkle toes 
 
 "Well, so long, old 'un." 
 
 "So long, lad." Then, as an afterthought : 
 "Goo' luck." 
 
 "Thanks." 
 
 Chuck turned into the main road and pro- 
 ceeded to a blue lamp some two hundred 
 yards away. He walked into the station and 
 went to the sergeant at the desk. 
 
 "I done a murder." 
 
 "Didn't quite catch." 
 
 "I done a murder." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Markie Roseleaf, manager of the Quay- 
 side. In 'is room. Bashed 'is 'ead in. I 
 done it with this." 
 
 He planked the preserver on the desk. 
 
 "Yes. Consider yourself detained, pend- 
 ing inquiries." 
 
 • •••••• 
 
 It was a night of storm. A shrill sky 
 screamed of sleet. Great gales rushed from 
 the river, annoying loose windows. Shop 
 
 signs swung grotesquely and complained in 
 
 252
 
 l^winkletoes 
 
 creaking voices. Skirts and coats were flung 
 and buffeted, and hats flew and lamplights 
 flickered. Nothing that was not heavy or 
 made fast was allowed to stand. The wind 
 took everything broadside on, with full, con- 
 sidered hammer strokes, or in swift swirls, 
 darting in with a hundred light blows from 
 this side and that. Ropes in the Docks 
 whistled. Cranes jerked and jangled. 
 Brown sails bellied and slapped themselves 
 with determined glee. 
 
 The river, of the hue of molten steel, 
 heaved and rushed angrily, slucking against 
 staples and barges, or rising in ineffectual 
 splashes to the low-lying wharves. 
 
 The little waves and spears of water 
 seemed, to the girl who had reached a wharf 
 by climbing from the bridge to the Isle of 
 Dogs, to be so many arms stretched in 
 invitation. Before her stretched the yellow- 
 starred length of water; behind her was a 
 lofty street of houses, at the expansive mid- 
 night loud with humanity, now, at ten o'clock 
 
 253 *
 
 ^winkletoes 
 
 feebly lit, reticent, forbidding. Aided by 
 the gale, noises flowed from mid-stream with 
 fluid ease. 
 
 Twinkletoes, her lemon-colored curls 
 streaming from her head in a furious bid for 
 flight, stood with her tiny hands outstretched 
 against the wooden supports. She had come 
 there to ask why. And sometimes she 
 choked with incipient sobs and sometimes she 
 moaned her thoughts. 
 
 This was the end. Her god — her old Dad 
 — the maker of her character — had fallen. 
 All her beauty, her high character, her gladly 
 nourished ideals, gone to dust; and in the 
 going carried disaster to those she most 
 loved. Now, at the moment, she was learn- 
 ing the lesson that we may place our trust in 
 nothing but our own souls ; for, when all our 
 faith rests upon one idol, and the idol falls, 
 it falls upon the faithful heart. 
 
 No more would her romantic legs twinkle 
 for the delight of Poplar, or her expressive 
 arms gather in their thousand woes. No 
 
 254
 
 ^iDinkletocs 
 
 more would her baby body flit about the 
 streets scattering smiles of carnival and 
 goodfellowship. No more would folk wait 
 to hear her light feet chattering to the 
 asphalt pavements, to see her break the dusk 
 with colored frock and daring ribbons hang- 
 ing about her like petals of a flower, the 
 whisk of them kissing the little stockinged 
 knees. No more would the gallery boys 
 cry: "Are we to part like this, Bill?" In 
 vain would they shout: "We — want — 
 Twinkletoes!" 
 
 Perhaps an hour later her question was 
 answered. 
 
 Perhaps she knew why all that is sweet and 
 clean and true must ever be bruised and 
 broken to make easier the jungle of life for 
 the cruel and the faithless. Perhaps she 
 knew why beauty and character must be 
 held at such a hideous price. Perhaps those 
 tiny hands that had so often supplicated to 
 bunches of violets did not supplicate in vain 
 for an understanding of all the weeping that 
 
 255
 
 T^winkletoes 
 
 had been brought upon her little kingdom. 
 Perhaps those tiny hands that had so often 
 soothed the querulous or caressed the lovable 
 gathered elsewhere some share of balm for 
 her throbbing wounds. Perhaps that lovely 
 little heart, wracked with more tortures 
 than it was ever made to bear, found a kind 
 resting-place enduring when the radiant 
 limbs and happy body were no more. 
 
 In the four-ale bar of the Blue Lantern 
 Hank Hogan lounged in his comer, and 
 Dickery-Dock attended him. 
 
 "Difference it's made, ain't it?" said 
 Dickery. 
 
 "Ar." 
 
 "If anyone'd told me all this would 'ave 
 'appened in about a week — all at once, as 
 you might say — I'd a-called 'im a liar. 
 Wouldn't you?" 
 
 "Ar." 
 
 "Chuck gom. The Dook and the Prince 
 collared. Minasi waiting fer trial. Perce 
 
 256
 
 ^whzkletoes 
 
 lagged. And liT Twinkletoes disappeared. 
 . . . Sickening, ain't it?" 
 
 Hank Hogan looked through the open 
 door to the evening life of the Lantern 
 comer. The cars were still running. The 
 Lascars were still jungle-treading. The 
 golden boys and girls w-ere still "clicking." 
 The straight form of Division-Inspector 
 Territon still moved from point to point. 
 He himself was still drinking beer. But the 
 goodly company who made the Blue Lantern 
 worth while . . . 
 
 "Yerss," he said, "nothing don't seem the 
 same. Fair sickening. But there y'are. 
 That's alwis the way." 
 
 At the window of her cottage sat Cissie 
 Lightfoot, her vindicative fingers gripping 
 a tarnished Bouquet novelette. She was 
 smiling, intent on some sociable thought, her 
 dull eyes lit by a secret flame. She too 
 looked upon the soft evening, but the absence 
 of certain characters was by no means fair 
 sickening to her. She looked upon the 
 
 257
 
 I^winkletoes 
 
 parading girls, moving with the demure, 
 steadfast carriage of adolescence. The im- 
 perious urge of youth raced under their 
 translucent skin. Thev were awake for 
 love, and soon Tunnel Gardens would be 
 delicately noisy with laughter of those 
 caressing and being caressed. 
 
 As she looked upon their sylph-like forms 
 she thought of many things, and the thoughts 
 seemed to satisfy. She thought of Twinkle- 
 toes, who had been just such a one: asking 
 for it and getting it where it hurt most. 
 She thought of Chuck, and decided that she 
 had done well. He had told her to lay an 
 egg, and she had laid it, and had made him 
 look silly, as she had threatened. She had 
 asserted herself, and made him realize her. 
 She thought of Old Dad in his cell, awaiting 
 the Central Assizes, and of Roseleaf. 
 
 "Serve 'em all right," she thought. "They 
 asked for it. Damn clever they were, but 
 what's it brought 'em? After all their 
 games what's it brought 'em ?" 
 
 258
 
 T'winkletoes 
 
 To her it had hrought only lonehness, 
 almost iiitolerahle loneliness. So that each 
 night when the dusk came and blotted out 
 the processional street she would drop the 
 blind, and loosen her hair — now of a bilious 
 hue — and take a black bottle from its hiding- 
 place, and stretch herself on the bed. 
 
 THE END 
 
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