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 Liza of Lambeth 
 W. Somerset Maugham
 
 By W. Somerset Maugham 
 
 OF HUMAN BONDAGE 
 THE MOON AND SIXPENCE 
 THE TREMBLING OF A LEAF 
 LIZA OF LAMBETH 
 MBS. CRADDOCK 
 THE EXPLORER 
 THE MAGICIAN 
 
 New York 
 George H. Do ran Company
 
 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 BY 
 
 W. Somerset Maugham 
 
 Author of "The Trembling of a Leaf," "The 
 
 Moon and Sixpence," "Of Human 
 
 Bondage" Etc. 
 
 New <W York 
 George H. Doran Company
 
 Printed in the United States of America
 
 Liza of Lambeth
 
 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 Chapter One 
 
 IT was the first Saturday afternoon in Au- 
 gust ; it had been broiling hot all day, with 
 a cloudless sky, and the sun had been beating 
 down on the houses so that the top rooms were 
 like ovens ; but now with the approach of eve- 
 ning it was cooler, and every one in Vere 
 Street was out-of-doors. 
 
 Vere Street, Lambeth, is a short, straight 
 street leading out of the Westminster Bridge 
 Road; it has forty houses on one side and 
 forty houses on the other, and these eighty 
 houses are very much more like one another 
 than ever peas are like peas, or young ladies 
 like young ladies. They are newish, three- 
 storied buildings of dingy grey brick with slate 
 roofs, and they are perfectly flat, without a 
 bow-window or even a projecting cornice or
 
 8 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 window-sill to break the straightness of the 
 line from one end of the street to the other. 
 This Saturday afternoon the street was full 
 of life: no traffic came down Vere Street, and 
 the cemented space between the pavements was 
 given up to children. Several games of cricket 
 were being played by wildly excited boys, 
 using coats for wickets, an old tennis-ball or a 
 bundle of rags tied together for a ball, and, 
 generally, an old broomstick for bat. The 
 wicket was so large and the bat so small that 
 the man in was always getting bowled, when 
 heated quarrels would arise, the batter abso- 
 lutely refusing to go out and the bowler ab- 
 solutely insisting on going in. The girls were 
 more peaceable ; they were chiefly employed in 
 skipping, and only abused one another mildly 
 when the rope was not properly turned or the 
 skipper did not jump sufficiently high. Worst 
 off of all were the very young children, for 
 there had been no rain for weeks, and the street 
 was as dry and clean as a covered court, and, 
 in the lack of mud to wallow in, they sat about 
 the road, disconsolate as poets. The number 
 of babies was prodigious ; they sprawled about
 
 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 everywhere, on the pavement, round the doors, 
 and about their mothers' skirts. The grown- 
 ups were gathered round the open doors ; there 
 were usually two women squatting on the 
 doorstep, and two or three more seated on 
 either side on chairs ; they were invariably nurs- 
 ing babies, and most of them showed clear 
 signs that the present object of the maternal 
 care would be soon ousted by a new arrival. 
 Men were less numerous, but such as there 
 were leant against the walls, smoking, or sat 
 on the sills of the ground-floor windows. It 
 was the dead season in Vere Street as much 
 as in Belgravia, and really if it had not been 
 for babies just come or just about to come, 
 and an opportune murder in a neighbouring 
 doss-house, there would have been nothing 
 whatever to talk about. As it was, the little 
 groups talked quietly, discussing the atrocity 
 or the merits of the local midwives, compar- 
 ing the circumstances of their various confine- 
 ments. 
 
 "You'll be 'avin' your little trouble soon, eh, 
 Polly?" asked one good lady of another.
 
 10 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Oh, I reckon I've got another two months 
 ter go yet," answered Polly. 
 
 "Well," said a third, "I wouldn't 'ave 
 thought you'd go so long by the look of yer!" 
 
 "I 'ope you'll have it easier this time, my 
 dear," said a very stout old person, a woman 
 of great importance. 
 
 "She said she wasn't goin' to 'ave no more, 
 when the last one come." This remark came 
 from Polly's husband. 
 
 "Ah," said the stout old lady, who was in 
 the business, and boasted vast experience. 
 "That's wot they all says ; but, Lor' bless yer, 
 they don't mean it." 
 
 "Well, I've got three, and I'm not goin' to 
 'ave no more, bli'me if I will; 'tain't good 
 enough that's wot I says." 
 
 "You're abaht right there, ole gal," said 
 Polly. "My word, 'Arry, if you 'ave any more 
 I'll git a divorce, that I will." 
 
 At that moment an organ-grinder turned 
 the corner and came down the street. 
 
 "Good biz; 'ere's an organ!" cried half a 
 dozen people at once. 
 
 The organ-man was an Italian, with a shock
 
 Liza of Lambeth II 
 
 of black hair and a ferocious moustache. 
 Drawing his organ to a favourable spot, he 
 stopped, released his shoulder from the leather 
 straps by which he dragged it, and cocking his 
 large soft hat on the side of his head, began 
 turning the handle. It was a lively tune, and 
 in less than no time a little crowd had gathered 
 round to listen, chiefly the young men and the 
 maidens, for the married ladies were never in a 
 fit state to dance, and therefore disinclined to 
 trouble themselves to stand round the organ. 
 There was a moment's hesitation at opening 
 the ball; then one girl said to another 
 
 "Come on, Florrie, you and me ain't shy; 
 we'll begin, and bust it!" 
 
 The two girls took hold of one another, one 
 acting gentleman, the other lady ; three or four 
 more pairs of girls immediately joined them, 
 and they began a waltz. They held them- 
 selves very upright; and with an air of grave 
 dignity which was quite impressive, glided 
 slowly about, making their steps with the ut- 
 most precision, bearing themselves with suf- 
 ficient decorum for a court ball. After a 
 while the men began to itch for a turn, and two
 
 12 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 of them, taking hold of one another in the 
 most approved fashion, waltzed round the cir- 
 cle with the gravity of judges. 
 
 All at once there was a cry: "There's 
 Liza!" And several members of the group 
 turned and called out: "Oo, look at Liza!" 
 
 The dancers stopped to see the sight, and 
 the organ-grinder, having come to the end of 
 his tune, ceased turning the handle and looked 
 to see what was the excitement. 
 
 "Oo, Liza!" they called out. "Look at 
 Liza; oo, I sy!" 
 
 It was a young girl of about eighteen, with 
 dark eyes, and an enormous fringe, puffed- 
 out and curled and frizzed, covering her whole 
 forehead from side to side, and coming down 
 to meet her eyebrows. She was dressed in 
 brilliant violet, with great lappets of velvet, 
 and she had on her head an enormous black 
 hat covered with feathers. 
 
 "I sy, ain't she got up dossy?" called out 
 the groups at the doors, as she passed. 
 
 "Dressed ter death, and kill the fashion; 
 that's wot I calls it." 
 
 Liza saw what a sensation she was creat-
 
 Liza of Lambeth 13 
 
 ing; she arched her back and lifted her head, 
 and walked down the street, swaying her body 
 from side to side, and swaggering along as 
 though the whole place belonged to her. 
 
 " 'Ave yer bought the street, Bill?" shouted 
 one youth; and then half a dozen burst forth 
 at once, as if by inspiration 
 
 "Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!" 
 
 It was immediately taken up by a dozen 
 more, and they all yelled it out 
 
 "Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road. Yah, 
 ah, knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!" 
 
 "Oo, Liza!" they shouted; the whole street 
 joined in, and they gave long, shrill, ear-pierc- 
 ing shrieks and strange calls, that rung down 
 the street and echoed back again. 
 
 "Hextra special!" called out a wag. 
 
 "Oh, Liza! Oo! Ooo!" yells and whistles, 
 and then it thundered forth again 
 
 "Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!" 
 
 Liza put on the air of a conquering hero, and 
 sauntered on, enchanted at the uproar. She 
 stuck out her elbows and jerked her head on 
 one side, and said to herself as she passed 
 through the bellowing crowd
 
 14 Liza of LambetH 
 
 "This is jam!" 
 
 "Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!" 
 
 When she came to the group round the bar- 
 rel-organ, one of the girls cried out to her 
 
 "Is that yer new dress, Liza?" 
 
 "Well, it don't look like my old one, do it?" 
 said Liza. 
 
 "Where did yer git it?" asked another 
 friend, rather enviously. 
 
 "Picked it up in the street, of course!" scorn- 
 fully answered Liza. 
 
 "I believe it's the same one as I saw in the 
 pawnbroker's dahn the Road," said one of the 
 men, to teaze her. 
 
 "Thet's it; but wot was you doin' in there? 
 Pledgin' yer shirt, or was it yer trousers?" 
 
 "Yah, I wouldn't git a second-'and dress at 
 a pawnbroker's!" 
 
 "Garn!" said Liza, indignantly. "I'll swipe 
 yer over the snitch if yer talk ter me. I got 
 the mayterials in the West Hend, didn't I? 
 And I 'ad it mide up by my Court Dressmiker, 
 so you jolly well dry up, old jellybelly." 
 
 "Garn!" was the reply. 
 
 Liza had been so intent on her new dress and
 
 Liza of Lambeth 15 
 
 the comment it was exciting that she had not 
 noticed the organ. 
 
 "Oo, I say, let's 'ave some dancin'," she 
 said as soon as she saw it. "Come on, Sally," 
 she added, to one of the girls, "you an' me'll 
 dance togither. Grind away, old cock!" 
 
 The man turned on a new tune, and the or- 
 gan began to play the Intermezzo from the 
 "Cavalleria"; other couples quickly followed 
 Liza's example, and they began to waltz round 
 with the same solemnity as before; but Liza 
 outdid them all; if the others were as stately 
 as queens, she was as stately as an empress; 
 the gravity and dignity with which she waltzed 
 were something appalling, you felt that the 
 minuet was a frolic in comparison; it would 
 have been a fitting measure to tread round the 
 grave of a premiere danseuse, or at the funeral 
 of a professional humorist. And the graces she 
 put on, the languor of the eyes, the contemptu- 
 ous curl of the lips, the exquisite turn of the 
 hand, the dainty arching of the foot ! You felt 
 there could be no questioning her right to the 
 tyranny of Vere Street.
 
 16 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 Suddenly she stopped short, and disengaged 
 herself from her companion. 
 
 "Oh, I sy," she said, "this is too bloomin' 
 slow; it gives me the sick." 
 
 That is not precisely what she said, but it 
 is impossible always to give the exact unex- 
 purgated words of Liza and the other person- 
 ages of the story; the reader is therefore en- 
 treated with his thoughts to piece out the neces- 
 sary imperfections of the dialogue. 
 
 "It's too bloomin' slow," she said again; "it 
 gives me the sick. Let's 'ave somethin' a bit 
 more lively than this 'ere waltz. You stand 
 over there, Sally, an' we'll show 'em 'ow ter 
 skirt dance." 
 
 They all stopped waltzing. 
 
 "Talk of the ballet at the Canterbury and 
 the South London. You just wite till you see 
 the ballet at Vere Street, Lambeth we'll 
 knock 'em!" 
 
 She went up to the organ-grinder. 
 
 "Na then, Italiano," she said to him, "you 
 buck up ; gives us a tune that's got some guts 
 in it! See?" 
 
 She caught hold of his big hat and squashed
 
 Liza of Lambeth 17 
 
 it down over his eyes. The man grinned from 
 ear to ear, and, touching the little catch at the 
 side began to play a lively tune such as Liza 
 had asked for. 
 
 The men had fallen out, but several girls had 
 put themselves in position, in couples, standing 
 face to face ; and immediately the music struck 
 up, they began. They held up their skirts on 
 each side, so as to show their feet, and pro- 
 ceeded to go through the difficult steps and 
 motions of the dance. Liza was right; they 
 could not have done it better in a trained ballet. 
 But the best dancer of them all was Liza ; she 
 threw her whole soul into it; forgetting the 
 stiff bearing which she had thought proper to 
 the waltz, and casting off its elaborate graces, 
 she gave herself up entirely to the present 
 pleasure. Gradually the other couples stood 
 aside, so that Liza and Sally were left alone. 
 They paced it carefully, watching each other's 
 steps, and as if by instinct performing cor- 
 responding movements, so as to make the 
 whole a thing of symmetry. 
 
 "I'm abaht done," said Sally, blowing and 
 puffing. "I've 'ad enough of it."
 
 1 8 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Go on, Liza!" cried out a dozen voices when 
 Sally stopped. 
 
 She gave no sign of having heard them other 
 than calmly to continue her dance. She glided 
 through the steps, and swayed about, and ma- 
 nipulated her skirt, all with the most charming 
 grace imaginable ; then, the music altering, she 
 changed the style of her dancing, her feet 
 moved more quickly, and did not keep so 
 strictly to the ground. She was getting excited 
 at the admiration of the onlookers and her 
 dance grew wilder and more daring. She 
 lifted her skirts higher, brought in new and 
 more difficult movements into her improvisa- 
 tion, kicking up her legs she did the wonderful 
 twist, backwards and forwards, of which the 
 dancer is proud. 
 
 "Look at 'er legs!" cried one of the men. 
 
 "Look at 'er stockin's!" shouted another; 
 and indeed they were remarkable, for Liza had 
 chosen them of the same brilliant hue as her 
 dress, and was herself most proud of the har- 
 mony. 
 
 Her dance became gayer: her feet scarcely 
 touched the ground, she whirled round madly.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 19 
 
 "Tike care yer don't split!" cried out one of 
 the wags, at a very audacious kick. 
 
 The words were hardly out of his mouth 
 when Liza, with a gigantic effort, raised her 
 foot and kicked off his hat. The feat was 
 greeted with applause, and she went on, mak- 
 ing turns and twists, flourishing her skirts, 
 kicking higher and higher, and finally, amid a 
 volley of shouts, fell on her hands and turned 
 head over heels in a magnificent catharine- 
 wheel; then scrambling to her feet again, she 
 tumbled into the arms of a young man stand- 
 ing in the front of the ring. 
 
 "Thet's right, Liza," he said. "Give us a 
 kiss, now," and promptly tried to take one. 
 
 "Git aht!" said Liza, pushing him away, not 
 too gently. 
 
 "Yus, give us a kiss," cried another, running 
 up to her. 
 
 "I'll smack yer in the fice!" said Liza, ele- 
 gantly, as she dodged him. 
 
 "Ketch 'old on 'er, Bill," cried out a third, 
 "an' we'll all kiss her." 
 
 "Na, you won't!" shrieked Liza, beginning 
 to run.
 
 2O Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Come on," they cried, "we'll ketch 'er." 
 
 She dodged in and out, between their legs, 
 under their arms, and then, getting clear of 
 the little crowd, caught up her skirts so that 
 they might not hinder her, and took to her heels 
 along the street. A score of men set in chase, 
 whistling, shouting, yelling; the people at the 
 doors looked up to see the fun, and cried out 
 to her as she dashed past; she ran like the wind. 
 Suddenly a man from the side darted into the 
 middle of the road, stood straight in her way, 
 and before she knew where she was, she had 
 jumped shrieking into his arms, and he, lifting 
 her up to him, had imprinted two sounding 
 kisses on her cheeks. 
 
 "Oh you !" she said. Her expression 
 
 was quite unprintable; nor can it be eu- 
 phemised. 
 
 There was a shout of laughter from the by- 
 standers and the young men in chase of her, 
 and Liza, looking up, saw a big, bearded man 
 whom she had never seen before. She blushed 
 to the very roots of her hair, quickly extricated 
 herself from his arms, and, amid the jeers and 
 laughter of every one, slid into the door of the 
 nearest house and was lost to view.
 
 Chapter Two 
 
 LIZA and her mother were having supper. 
 Mrs. Kemp was an elderly woman, short, 
 and rather stout, with a red face, and grey hair 
 brushed tight back over her forehead. She had 
 been a widow for many years, and since her 
 husband's death had lived with Liza in the 
 ground-floor front room in which they were 
 now sitting. Her husband had been a soldier, 
 and from a grateful country she received a 
 pension large enough to keep her from starva- 
 tion, and by charring and doing such odd jobs 
 as she could get she earned a little extra to 
 supply herself with liquor. Liza was able to 
 make her own living by working at a factory. 
 
 Mrs. Kemp was rather sulky this evening. 
 
 "Wot was yer doin' this afternoon, Liza?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "I was in the street." 
 
 "You're always in the street when I want 
 yer." 
 
 21
 
 22 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "I didn't know as 'ow yer wanted me, 
 mother," answered Liza. 
 
 "Well, yer might 'ave come ter seel I might 
 'ave been dead, for all you knew." 
 
 Liza said nothing. 
 
 "My rheumatics was thet bad to-dy, thet I 
 didn't know wot ter do with myself. The doc- 
 tor said I was to be rubbed with that there stuff 
 'e give me, but yer won't never do nothin' for 
 me." 
 
 "Well, mother," said Liza, "your rheumatics 
 was all right yesterday." 
 
 "I know wot you was doin' ; you was showin' 
 off thet new dress of yours. Pretty waste of 
 money thet is, instead of givin' it me ter sive 
 up. An' for the matter of thet, I wanted a 
 new dress far worse than you did. But, of 
 course, I don't matter." 
 
 Liza did not answer, and Mrs. Kemp having 
 nothing more to say, continued her supper in 
 silence. 
 
 It was Liza who spoke next. 
 
 "There's some new people moved in the 
 .street. 'Ave you seen 'em?" she asked. 
 
 "Na, wot are they?"
 
 Liza of Lambeth 23 
 
 "I dunno; I've seen a chap, a big chap with 
 a beard. I think 'e lives up at the other end." 
 
 She felt herself blushing a little. 
 
 "No one any good you be sure," said Mrs. 
 Kemp. "I can't swaller these new people as 
 are comin' in ; the street ain't wot it was when 
 I fust come." 
 
 When they had done, Mrs. Kemp got up, 
 and having finished her half -pint of beer, said 
 to her daughter : 
 
 "Put the things awy, Liza. I'm just goin' 
 round to see Mrs. Clayton; she's just 'ad twins, 
 and she 'ad nine before these come. It's a pity 
 the Lord don't see fit ter tike some on 'em 
 thet's wot I say." 
 
 After which pious remark Mrs. Kemp went 
 out of the house and turned into another a few 
 doors up. 
 
 Liza did not clear the supper things away 
 as she was told, but opened the window and 
 drew her chair to it. She leant on the sill, 
 looking out into the street. The sun had set, 
 and it was twilight, the sky was growing dark, 
 bringing to view the twinkling stars ; there was 
 no breeze, but it was pleasantly and restfully
 
 24 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 cool. The good folk still sat at their doorsteps, 
 talking as before on the same inexhaustible 
 subjects, but a little subdued with the approach 
 of night. The boys were still playing cricket, 
 but they were mostly at the other end of the 
 street, and their shouts were muffled before 
 they reached Liza's ears. 
 
 She sat, leaning her head on her hands, 
 breathing in the fresh air and feeling a certain 
 exquisite sense of peacefulness which she was 
 not used to. It was Saturday evening, and she 
 thankfully remembered that there would be no 
 factory on the morrow; she was glad to rest. 
 Somehow she felt a little tired, perhaps it was 
 through the excitement of the afternoon, and 
 she enjoyed the quietness of the evening. It 
 seemed so tranquil and still; the silence filled 
 her with a strange delight, she felt as if she 
 could sit there all through the night looking 
 out into the cool, dark street, and up heaven- 
 wards at the stars. She was very happy, but 
 yet at the same time experienced a strange new 
 sensation of melancholy, and she almost wished 
 to cry. 
 
 Suddenly a dark form stepped in front of 
 the open window. She gave a little shriek.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 25 
 
 " 'Go's thet?" she asked, for it was quite 
 dark, and she did not recognise the man stand- 
 ing in front of her. 
 
 "Me, Liza," was the answer. 
 
 "Tom?" 
 
 "Yus!" 
 
 It was a young man with light yellow hair 
 and a little fair moustache, which made him 
 appear almost boyish; he was light-com- 
 plexioned, and blue-eyed, and had a frank and 
 pleasant look mingled with a curious bashful- 
 ness that made him blush when people spoke 
 to him. 
 
 "Wot's up?" asked Liza. 
 
 "Come aht for a walk, Liza, will yer?" 
 
 "No!" she answered, decisively. 
 
 "You promised ter yesterday, Liza." 
 
 "Yesterday an' ter-day's two different 
 things," was her wise reply. 
 
 "Yus, come on, Liza." 
 
 "Na, I tell yer, I won't." 
 
 "I want ter talk ter yer, Liza." Her hand 
 was resting on the window-sill, and he put his 
 upon it. She quickly drew it back. 
 
 "Well, I don't want yer ter talk ter me."
 
 26 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 But she did, for it was she who broke the 
 silence. 
 
 "Say, Tom, 'oo are them new folk as 'as 
 come into the street? It's a big chap with a 
 brown beard." 
 
 "D'you mean the bloke as kissed yer this 
 afternoon?" 
 
 Liza blushed again. 
 
 "Well, why shouldn't 'e kiss me?" she said, 
 with some inconsequence. 
 
 "I never said as 'ow 'e shouldn't; I only arst 
 yer if it was the sime." 
 
 "Yus, thet's 'oo I mean." 
 
 ' 'Is nime is Blakeston Jim Blakeston. 
 I've only spoke to 'im once; he's took the two 
 top rooms at No. 19 'ouse." 
 
 "Wot's 'e want two top rooms for?" 
 
 " 'Im? Oh, 'e's got a big family five kids. 
 Ain't yer seen 'is wife abaht the street? She's 
 a big, fat woman, as does 'er 'air funny." 
 
 "I didn't know 'e 'ad a wife." 
 
 There was another silence; Liza sat think- 
 ing, and Tom stood at the window, looking 
 at her
 
 Liza of Lambeth 27 
 
 "Won't yer come aht with me, Liza?" he 
 asked, at last. 
 
 "Na, Tom," she said, a little more gently, 
 "It's too lite." 
 
 "Liza," he said, blushing to the roots of his 
 hair. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Liza" he couldn't go on, and stuttered 
 in his shyness "Liza, I I I loves yer, 
 Liza." 
 
 "Garn awy!" 
 
 He was quite brave now, and took hold of 
 her hand. 
 
 "Yer know, Liza, I'm earnin' twenty-three 
 shillin's at the works now, an' I've got some 
 furniture as mother left me when she was 
 took." 
 
 The girl said nothing. 
 
 "Liza, will you 'ave me? I'll make yer a 
 good 'usband, Liza, swop me bob, I will; an' 
 yer know I'm not a drinkin' sort. Liza, will 
 yer marry me?" 
 
 "Na, Tom," she answered, quietly. 
 
 "Oh, Liza, won't you 'ave me?" 
 
 "Na, Tom, I can't."
 
 28 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Why not? You've come aht walkin' with 
 me ever since Whitsun." 
 
 "Ah, things is different now." 
 
 "You're not walkin' aht with anybody else, 
 are you, Liza?" he asked, quickly. 
 
 "Na, not that." 
 
 "Well, why won't yer, Liza? Oh, Liza, I 
 do love yer; I've never loved anybody as I love 
 you!" 
 
 "Oh, I can't, Tom!" 
 
 "There ain't no one else?" 
 
 "Na." 
 
 "Then why not?" 
 
 "I'm very sorry, Tom, but I don't love yer 
 so as ter marry yer." 
 
 "Oh, Liza!" 
 
 She could not see the look upon his face, but 
 she heard the agony in his voice; and, moved 
 with sudden pity, she bent out, threw her arms 
 round his neck, and kissed him on both cheeks. 
 
 "Never mind, old chap!" she said. "I'm not 
 worth troublin' abaht." 
 
 And quickly drawing back, she slammed the 
 window to, and moved into the further part of 
 the room.
 
 Chapter Three 
 
 fTlHE following day was Sunday. Liza, 
 A when she was dressing herself in the 
 morning, felt the hardness of fate in the im- 
 possibility of eating one's cake and having it; 
 she wished she had reserved her new dress and 
 had still before her the sensation of a first ap- 
 pearance in it. With a sigh she put on her 
 ordinary everyday working dress, and pro- 
 ceeded to get the breakfast ready, for her 
 mother had been out late the previous night, 
 celebrating the new arrivals in the street, and 
 had the "rheumatics" this morning. 
 
 "Oo, my 'ead!" she was saying, as she 
 pressed her hands on each side of her forehead. 
 "I've got the neuralgy agin; wot shall I do? 
 I dunno 'ow it is, but it always comes on Sun- 
 day mornings. Oo, an' my rheumatics, they 
 give me sich a doin' in the night !" 
 
 "You'd better go to the 'orspital, mother." 
 "Not I!" answered the worthy lady, with 
 
 29
 
 30 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 great decision. "You 'as a dozen young chaps 
 messin' you abaht, and lookin' at yer ; and then 
 they tells yer ter leave off beer and spirrits. 
 Well, wot I says, I says I can't do withaht my 
 glass of beer." She thumped her pillow to 
 emphasise the statement. 
 
 "Wot with the work I 'ave ter do, lookin' 
 after you and the cookin' and gettin' everythin' 
 ready and doin' all the 'ousework, and goin' aht 
 charring besides well, I says, if I don't 'ave 
 a drop of beer, I says, ter pull me together, I 
 should be under the turf in no time." 
 
 She munched her bread-and-butter and 
 drank her tea. 
 
 "When you've done breakfast, Liza," she 
 said, "you can give the grate a cleanin', an' my 
 boots'd do with a bit of polishin'. Mrs. Tike, 
 in the next 'ouse, '11 give yer some blackin'." 
 
 She remained silent for a bit, then said: 
 
 "I don't think I shall get up ter-day, Liza. 
 My rheumatics is bad. You can put the room 
 straight and cook the dinner." 
 
 "Arright, mother; you stay where you are, 
 an' I'll do everythin' for yer." 
 
 "Well, it's only wot yer ought to do, con-
 
 Liza of Lambeth 31 
 
 siderin' all the trouble you've been ter me when 
 you was young, and considerin' thet when you 
 was born the doctor thought I never should get 
 through it. Wot 'ave you done with your 
 week's money, Liza?" 
 
 "Oh, I've put it awy," answered Liza, 
 quietly. 
 
 "Where?" asked her mother. 
 
 "Where it'll be safe." 
 
 "Where's that?" 
 
 Liza was driven into a corner. 
 
 "Why d'you want ter know?" she asked. 
 
 "Why shouldn't I know ; d'you think I want 
 ter steal it from yer?" 
 
 "Na, not thet." 
 
 "Well, why won't you tell me?" 
 
 "Oh, a thing's sifer when only one person 
 knows where it is." 
 
 This was a very discreet remark, but it set 
 Mrs. Kemp in a whirlwind of passion. She 
 raised herself and sat up in the bed, flourishing 
 her clenched fist at her daughter. 
 
 "I know wot yer mean, you you!" her 
 
 language was emphatic, her epithets pictur- 
 esque, but too forcible for reproduction. "You
 
 32 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 think I'd steal it," she went on. "I know yer! 
 D'yer think I'd go an' tike yer dirty money?" 
 
 "Well, mother," said Liza, "when I've told 
 yer before, the money's perspired like." 
 
 " Wot d'yer mean?" 
 
 "It got less." 
 
 "Well, I can't 'elp thet, can I? Any one 
 can come in 'ere and tike the money." 
 
 "If it's 'idden awy, they can't, can they, 
 mother?" said Liza. 
 
 Mrs. Kemp shook her fist. 
 
 "You dirty slut, you," she said, "yer think 
 I tike yer money! Why, you ought ter give 
 it me every week instead of savin' it up and 
 spendin' it on all sorts of muck, while I 'ave 
 ter grind my very bones down to keep yer." 
 
 "Yer know, mother, if I didn't 'ave a little 
 bit saved up, we should be rather short when 
 you're dahn in yer luck." 
 
 Mrs. Kemp's money always ran out on Tues- 
 day, and Liza had to keep things going till the 
 following Saturday. 
 
 "Oh, don't talk ter me!" proceeded Mrs. 
 Kemp. "When I was a girl I give all my 
 money ter my mother. She never 'ad ter ask
 
 Liza of Lambeth 33 
 
 me for nothin'. On Saturday when I come 
 'ome with my wiges, I give it 'er every f arthin', 
 That's wot a daughter ought ter do. I can say 
 this for myself, I be'aved by my mother like a 
 gal should. None of your prodigal sons for 
 me! She didn't 'ave ter ask me for three 
 'apence ter git a drop of beer." 
 
 Liza was wise in her generation; she held 
 her tongue, and put on her hat. 
 
 "Now, you're goin' aht, and leavin' me; I 
 dunno wot you get up to in the street with all 
 those men. No good, I'll be bound. An' 'ere 
 am I left all alone, an' I might die for all you 
 care." 
 
 In her sorrow at herself the old lady began 
 to cry, and Liza slipped out of the room and 
 into the street. 
 
 Leaning against the wall of the opposite 
 house was Tom; he came towards her. 
 
 " 'Ulloa!" she said, as she saw him. "Wot 
 are you doin' 'ere?" 
 
 "I was waitin' for you ter come aht, Liza,"" 
 he answered. 
 
 She looked at him quickly.
 
 34 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "I ain't comin' aht with yer ter-day, if thet's 
 wot yer mean," she said. 
 
 "I never thought of arskin' yer, Liza after 
 wot you said ter me last night." 
 
 His voice was a little sad, and she felt so 
 sorry for him. 
 
 "But yer did want ter speak ter me, didn't 
 yer, Tom?" she said, more gently. 
 
 "You've got a day off ter-morrow, ain't 
 yer?" 
 
 "Bank 'Oliday. Yus! Why?" 
 
 "Why, 'cause they've got a drag startin' 
 from the 'Red Lion' that's goin' down ter 
 Chingford for the day an' I'm goin'." 
 
 "Yus!" she said. ' 
 
 He looked at her doubtfully. 
 
 "Will yer come too, Liza? It'll be a regular 
 beeno; there's only goin' ter be people in the 
 street. Eh, Liza?" 
 
 "Na, I can't." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "I ain't got I ain't got the ooftish." 
 
 "I mean, won't yer come with me?" 
 
 "Na, Tom, thank yer; I can't do thet 
 neither."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 35 
 
 "Yer might as well, Liza; it wouldn't 'urt 
 yer." 
 
 "Na, it wouldn't be right like; I can't come 
 aht with yer, and then mean nothin' ! It would 
 be doin' yer aht of an outing." 
 
 "I don't see why," he said, very crestfallen. 
 
 "I can't go on keepin' company with you 
 after what I said last night." 
 
 "I sha'n't enjoy it a bit without you, Liza." 
 
 "You git somebody else, Tom. You'll do 
 withaht me all right." 
 
 She nodded to him, and walked up the street 
 to the house of her friend Sally. Having 
 arrived in front of it, she put her hands to her 
 mouth in trumpet form, and shouted : 
 
 "'I! 'I! 'I! Sally!" 
 
 A couple of fellows standing by copied her. 
 
 "'I! 'I! 'I! Sally!" 
 
 "Garn!" said Liza, looking round at them. 
 
 Sally did not appear, and she repeated her 
 call. The men imitated her, and half a dozen 
 took it up, so that there was enough noise to 
 wake the seven sleepers. 
 
 "'I! 'I! 'I! Sally!"
 
 36 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 A head was put out of a top window, and 
 Liza, taking off her hat, waved it, crying: 
 "Come on dahn, Sally!" 
 "Arright, old gal!" shouted the other. "I'm 
 
 comin' !" 
 
 "So's Christmas!" was Liza's repartee. 
 
 There was a clatter down the stairs, and 
 Sally, rushing through the passage, threw her- 
 self on to her friend. They began fooling, in 
 reminiscence of a melodrama they had lately 
 seen together. 
 
 "Oh, my darlin' duck!" said Liza, kissing her 
 and pressing her, with affected rapture, to her 
 bosom. 
 
 "My sweetest sweet!" replied Sally, copying 
 her. 
 
 "An' 'ow does your lidyship ter-day?" 
 
 "Oh!" with immense languor "fust class; 
 and is your royal 'ighness quite well?" 
 
 "I deeply regret," answered Liza, "but my 
 royal 'ighness 'as got the collywobbles." 
 
 Sally was a small, thin girl, with sandy hair 
 and blue eyes, and a very freckled complexion. 
 She had an enormous mouth, with terrible, 
 square teeth set wide apart, which looked as
 
 Liza of Lambeth 37 
 
 if they could masticate an iron bar. She was 
 dressed like Liza, in a shortish black skirt and 
 an old-fashioned bodice, green and grey and 
 yellow with age ; her sleeves were tucked up to 
 the elbow, and she wore a singularly dirty 
 apron, that had once been white. 
 
 "Wot 'ave you got yer 'air in them things 
 for?" asked Liza, pointing to the curl-papers. 
 "Coin' aht with yer young man ter-day?" 
 
 "Na, I'm going ter stay 'ere all day." 
 
 "Wot for, then?" 
 
 "Why, 'Arry's going ter tike me ter Ching- 
 ford ter-morrer." 
 
 "Oh? In the 'Red Lion' brake?" 
 
 "Yus. Are you goin'?" 
 
 "Na!" 
 
 "Not! Well, why don't you get round 
 Tom? 'E'll tike yer, and jolly glad 'e'll be, 
 too." 
 
 ' 'E arst me ter go with 'im, but I wouldn't." 
 
 "Swop me bob why not?" 
 
 "I ain't keepin' company with 'im." 
 
 "Yer might 'ave gone with 'im all the sime." 
 
 "Na. You're goin' with 'Arry, ain't yer?" 
 
 "Yus!"
 
 38 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "An' you're going to 'ave 'im?" 
 
 "Right again!" 
 
 "Well, I couldn't go with Tom, an' then 
 throw 'im over." 
 
 "Well, you are a mug!" 
 
 The two girls had strolled down towards the 
 Westminster Bridge Road, and Sally, meeting 
 her young man, had gone to him. Liza walked 
 back, wishing to get home in time to cook the 
 dinner. But she went slowly, for she knew 
 every dweller in the street, and as she passed 
 the groups sitting at their doors, as on the 
 previous evening, but this time mostly en- 
 gaged in peeling potatoes or shelling peas, she 
 stopped and had a little chat. Every one liked 
 her, and was glad to have her company. "Good 
 old Liza," they would say, as she left them, 
 "she's a rare good sort, ain't she?" 
 
 She asked after the aches and pains of all 
 the old people, and delicately inquired after 
 the babies, past and future; the children hung 
 on to her skirts and asked her to play with 
 them, and she would hold one end of the rope 
 while tiny little ragged girls skipped, invari- 
 ably entangling themselves after two jumps.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 39 
 
 She had nearly reached home, when she 
 heard a voice cry 
 
 "MorninT 
 
 She looked round and recognised the man 
 whom Tom had told her was called Jim Blake- 
 ston. He was sitting on a stool at the door of 
 one of the houses, playing with two young chil- 
 dren, to whom he was giving rides on his knee. 
 She remembered his heavy brown beard from 
 the day before, and she had also an impression 
 of great size; she noticed this morning that 
 he was, in fact, a big man, tall and broad, and 
 she saw besides that he had large, masculine 
 features and pleasant brown eyes. She sup- 
 posed him to be about forty. 
 
 "Mornin'!" he said again, as she stopped 
 and looked at him. 
 
 Liza blushed scarlet, and was too confused 
 to answer. 
 
 "Well, yer needn't look as if I was goin' 
 ter eat yer up, 'cause I ain't," he said. 
 
 ' 'Oo are you? I'm not afeard of yer." 
 
 "Wot are yer so bloomin' red abaht?" he 
 asked, pointedly. 
 
 "Well, I'm 'ot."
 
 40 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "You ain't shirty 'cause I kissed yer last 
 night?" 
 
 "I'm not shirty; but it was pretty cool, con- 
 siderin' like as I didn't know yer." 
 
 "Well, you run into my arms." 
 
 "Thet I didn't; you run aht and caught me." 
 
 "An' kissed yer before you could say 'Jack 
 Robinson.' ' He laughed at the thought. 
 "Well, Liza," he went on, "seem 5 as 'ow I 
 kissed yer against yer will, the best thing you 
 can do ter make it up is to kiss me not against 
 yer will." 
 
 "Me?" said Liza, looking at him, open- 
 mouthed. "Well, you are a pill !" 
 
 The children began to clamour for the rid- 
 ing, which had been discontinued on Liza's ap- 
 proach. 
 
 "Are them your kids?" she asked. 
 
 "Yus; them's two on 'em." 
 
 ' 'Ow many 'ave yer got?" 
 
 "Five; the eldest gal's fifteen, and the next 
 one 'oo's a boy's twelve, and then there are 
 these two and baby." 
 
 "Well, you've got enough for your money." 
 
 "Too many for me and more comin'."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 41 
 
 "Ah well," said Liza, laughing, "thet's your 
 fault, ain't it?" 
 
 Then she bade him good morning, and 
 strolled off. 
 
 He watched her as she went, and saw half a 
 dozen little boys surround her and beg her to 
 join them in their game of cricket. They 
 caught hold of her arms and skirts, and pulled 
 her to their pitch. 
 
 "A T a, I can't," she said, trying to disengage 
 herself. "I've got the dinner ter cook." 
 
 "Dinner ter cook?" shouted one small boy. 
 "Why, they always cooks the cats' meat at the 
 shop." 
 
 "You little so-and-so!" said Liza, somewhat 
 inelegantly, making a dash at him. 
 
 He dodged her and gave a whoop; then 
 turning he caught her round the legs, and an- 
 other boy catching hold of her round the neck 
 they dragged her down, and all three struggled 
 on the ground, rolling over and over; the 
 other boys threw themselves on the top, so that 
 there was a great heap of legs and arms and 
 heads waving and bobbing up and down. 
 
 Liza extricated herself with some difficulty,
 
 42 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 and taking off her hat she began cuffing the 
 boys with it, using all the time the most lively 
 expressions. Then, having cleared the field, 
 she retired victorious into her own house and 
 began cooking the dinner.
 
 Chapter Four 
 
 BANK HOLIDAY was a beautiful day: 
 the cloudless sky threatened a stifling 
 heat for noontide, but early in the morning, 
 when Liza got out of bed and threw open the 
 window, it was fresh and cool. She dressed 
 herself, wondering how she should spend her 
 day ; she thought of Sally going off to Ching- 
 ford with her lover, and of herself remaining 
 alone in the dull street with half the people 
 away. She almost wished it were an ordinary 
 work-day, and that there were no such things 
 as Bank Holidays. And it seemed to be a 
 little like two Sundays running, but with the 
 second rather worse than the first. Her 
 mother was still sleeping, and she was in no 
 great hurry about getting the breakfast, but 
 stood quietly looking out of the window at the 
 house opposite. 
 
 In a little while she saw Sally coming along. 
 She was arrayed in purple and fine linen a 
 
 43
 
 44 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 very smart red dress, trimmed with velveteen, 
 and a tremendous hat covered with feathers. 
 She had reaped the benefit of keeping her hair 
 in curl-papers since Saturday, and her sandy 
 fringe stretched from ear to ear. She was in 
 enormous spirits. 
 
 ; 'Ulloa, Liza!" she called as soon as she 
 saw her at the window. 
 
 Liza looked at her a little enviously. 
 
 " 'Ulloa!" she answered, quietly. 
 
 "I'm just goin' to the 'Red Lion' to meet 
 'Arry." 
 
 "At what time d'yer start?" 
 
 "The brake leaves at 'alf-past eight sharp." 
 
 "Why, it's only eight; it's only just struck 
 at the church. 'Arry won't be there yet, will 
 he?" 
 
 "Oh, Vs sure ter be early. I couldn't wite. 
 I've been witin' abaht since 'alf-past six. I've 
 been up since five this morning." 
 
 "Since five! What 'ave you been doin'?" 
 
 "Dressin' myself and doin' my 'air. I woke 
 up so early. I've been dreamin' all the night 
 abaht it. I simply couldn't sleep." 
 
 "Well, you are a caution!" said Liza.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 45 
 
 "Bust it, I don't go on the spree every day! 
 Oh, I do 'ope I shall enjoy myself." 
 
 "Why, you simply dunno where you are!" 
 said Liza, a little crossly. 
 
 "Don't you wish you was comin', Liza?" 
 asked Sally. 
 
 "NaJ I could if I liked, but I don't want 
 ter." 
 
 "You are a coughdrop thet's all I can say. 
 Ketch me refusin' when I 'ave the chanst." 
 
 "Well, it's done now. I ain't got the chanst 
 any more." Liza said this with just a little re- 
 gret in her voice. 
 
 "Come on dahn to the 'Red Lion,' Liza, and 
 see us off," said Sally. 
 
 "No, I'm damned if I do!" answered Liza, 
 iwith some warmth. 
 
 "You might as well. P'raps 'Arry won't 
 be there, an' you can keep me company till 'e 
 comes. An' you can see the 'orses." 
 
 Liza was really very anxious to see the brake 
 and the horses and the people going; but she 
 hesitated a little longer. Sally asked her once 
 again. Then she said:
 
 46 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Arright; I'll come with yer, and wite till 
 the bloomin' old thing starts." 
 
 She did not trouble to put on a hat, but just 
 walked out as she was, and accompanied Sally 
 to the public-house which was getting up the 
 expedition. 
 
 Although there was still nearly half an hour 
 to wait, the brake was drawn up before the 
 main entrance ; it was large and long, with seats 
 arranged crosswise, so that four people could 
 sit on each; and it was drawn by two powerful 
 horses, whose harness the coachman was now 
 examining. Sally was not the first on the 
 scene, for already half a dozen people had 
 taken their places, but Harry had not yet 
 arrived. The two girls stood by the public- 
 house door, looking at the preparations. Huge 
 baskets full of food were brought out and 
 stowed away; cases of beer were hoisted up and 
 put in every possible place under the seats, 
 under the driver's legs, and even beneath the 
 brake. As more people came up, Sally began 
 to get excited about Harry's non-appearance. 
 
 "I say, I wish 'e'd come!" she said. " 'E is 
 lite."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 47 
 
 Then she looked up and down the Westmin- 
 ster Bridge Road, to see if he was in view. 
 
 "Suppose 'e don't turn up! I will give it 
 'im when 'e comes for keepin' me witin' like 
 this." 
 
 "Why, there's a quarter of an hour yet," 
 said Liza, who saw nothing at all to get ex- 
 cited about. 
 
 At last Sally saw her lover, and rushed off 
 to meet him. Liza was left alone, rather dis- 
 consolate at all this bustle and preparation. 
 She was not sorry that she had refused Tom's 
 invitation, but she did wish that she had consci- 
 entiously been able to accept it. Sally and her 
 friend came up ; attired in his Sunday best, he 
 was a fit match for his lady-love he wore a 
 shirt and collar, unusual luxuries! and he 
 carried under his arm a concertina to make 
 things merry on the way. 
 
 "Ain't you goin', Liza?" he asked in surprise 
 at seeing her without a hat and with her 
 apron on. 
 
 "Na," said Sally, "ain't she a soft? Tom 
 said 'e'd tike 'er, an' she wouldn't." 
 
 "Well, I'm dashed!"
 
 48 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 Then they climbed the ladder and took their 
 seats, so that Liza was left alone again. More 
 people had come along, and the brake was 
 nearly full. Liza knew them all, but they were 
 too busy taking their places to talk to her. At 
 last Tom came. He saw her standing there 
 and went up to her. 
 
 "Won't yer change your mind, Liza, an' 
 come along with us?" 
 
 "Na, Tom, I told yer I wouldn't it's not 
 right like." She felt she must repeat that to 
 herself often. 
 
 "I sha'n't enjoy it a bit without you," he 
 said. 
 
 "Well, I can't 'elp it!" she answered some- 
 what sullenly. 
 
 At that moment a man came out of the pub- 
 lic-house with a horn in his hand; her heart 
 gave a great jump, for if there was anything 
 she adored it was to drive along to the tootling 
 of a horn. She really felt it was very hard 
 lines that she must stay at home when all these 
 people were going to have such a fine time; 
 and they were all so merry, and she could pic- 
 ture to herself so well the delights of the drive
 
 Liza of Lambeth 49 
 
 and the picnic. She felt very much inclined to 
 cry. But she mustn't go, and she wouldn't 
 go: she repeated that to herself twice as the 
 trumpeter gave a preliminary tootle. 
 
 Two more people hurried along, and when 
 they came near Liza saw that they were Jim 
 Blakeston and a woman whom she supposed 
 to be his wife. 
 
 "Are you comin', Liza?" Jim said to her. 
 
 "No," she answered. "I didn't know you 
 was goin'." 
 
 "I wish you was comin'," he replied; "we 
 shall 'ave a game." 
 
 She could only just keep back the sobs; she 
 so wished she were going. It did seem hard 
 that she must remain behind; and all because 
 she wasn't going to marry Tom. After all, 
 she didn't see why that should prevent her; 
 there really was no need to refuse for that. 
 She began to think she had acted foolishly: 
 it didn't do any one any good that she refused 
 to go out with Tom, and no one thought it 
 anything specially fine that she should re- 
 nounce her pleasure. Sally merely thought 
 her a fool.
 
 50 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 Tom was standing by her side, silent, and 
 looking disappointed and rather unhappy. 
 Jim said to her, in a low voice : 
 
 "I am sorry you're not comin'!" 
 
 It was too much. She did want to go so 
 badly, and she really couldn't resist any longer. 
 If Tom would only ask her once more, and 
 if she could only change her mind reasonably 
 and decently, she would accept; but he stood 
 silent, and she had to speak herself. It was 
 very undignified. 
 
 "Yer know, Tom," she said, "I don't want 
 to spoil your day." 
 
 "Well, I don't think I shall go alone; it 'ud 
 be so precious slow." 
 
 Supposing he didn't ask her again! What 
 should she do? She looked up at the clock 
 on the front of the pub, and noticed that it 
 only wanted five minutes to the half-hour. 
 How terrible it would be if the brake started 
 and he didn't ask her! Her heart beat vio- 
 lently against her chest, and in her agitation 
 she fumbled with the corner of her apron. 
 
 "Well, what can I do, Tom dear?"
 
 Liza of Lambeth 5 1 
 
 "Why, come with me, of course. Oh, Liza, 
 do say yes." 
 
 She had got the offer again, and it only 
 wanted a little seemly hesitation, and the thing 
 was done. 
 
 "I should like ter, Tom," she said. "But 
 d'you think it 'ud be arright?" 
 
 "Yus, in course it would. Come on, Liza!" 
 In his eagerness he clasped her hand. 
 
 "Well," she remarked, looking down, "if 
 it'd spoil your 'oliday " 
 
 "I won't go if you don't swop me bob, I 
 won't!" he answered. 
 
 "Well, if I come, it won't mean that I'm 
 keepin' company with you." 
 
 "Na, it won't mean anythin' you don't like." 
 
 "Arright!" she said. 
 
 "You'll come?" he could hardly believe her. 
 
 "Yus!" she answered, smiling all over her 
 face. 
 
 "You're a good sort, Liza! I say, 'Arry, 
 Liza's comin'!" he shouted. 
 
 "Liza? 'Oorray!" shouted Harry. 
 
 " 'S'at right, Liza?" called Sally.
 
 52 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 And Liza, feeling quite joyful and light of 
 heart, called back : 
 
 "Yus!" 
 
 " 'Oorray!" shouted Sally in answer. 
 
 "Thet's right, Liza," called Jim; and he 
 smiled pleasantly as she looked at him. 
 
 "There's just room for you two 'ere," said 
 Harry, pointing to the vacant places by his 
 side. 
 
 "Arright!" said Tom. 
 
 "I must just go an' get a 'at an' tell mother," 
 said Liza. 
 
 "There's just three minutes. Be quick!" 
 answered Tom, and as she scampered off as 
 hard as she could go, he shouted to the coach- 
 man, "'Old 'ard; there's another passenger 
 comin' in a minute." 
 
 "Arright, old cock," answered the coach- 
 man; "no 'urry!" 
 
 Liza rushed into the room, and called to 
 ther mother, who was still asleep : 
 
 "Mother! mother! I'm going to Chingford!" 
 
 Then tearing off her old dress she slipped 
 into her gorgeous violet one; she kicked off 
 her old ragged shoes and put on her new boots.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 53 
 
 She brushed her hair down and rapidly gave 
 her fringe a twirl and a twist it was luckily 
 still moderately in curl from the previous Sat- 
 urday and putting on her black hat with all 
 the feathers, she rushed along the street, and 
 scrambling up the brake steps fell panting on 
 Tom's lap. 
 
 The coachman cracked his whip, the trum- 
 peter tootled his horn, and with a cry and a 
 cheer from the occupants, the brake clattered 
 down the road.
 
 Chapter Five 
 
 AS soon as Liza had recovered herself she 
 started examining the people on the 
 brake; and first of all she took stock of the 
 woman whom Jim Blakeston had with him. 
 
 "This is my missus!" said Jim, pointing to 
 her with his thumb. 
 
 "You ain't been dahn in the street much, 
 'ave yer?" said Liza, by way of making the 
 acquaintance. 
 
 "Na," answered Mrs. Blakeston, "my 
 youngest's been dahn with the measles, an' I've 
 'ad my work cut out lookin' after 'im." 
 
 "Oh, an' is 'e all right now?" 
 
 "Yus, 'e's gettin' on fine, an' Jim wanted ter 
 go ter Chingford ter-day, an' 'e says ter me, 
 well, 'e says, 'You come along ter Chingford 
 too; it'll do you good.' An' 'e says, 'You can 
 leave Polly she's my eldest, yer know 'you 
 can leave Polly,' says 'e, 'ter look after the 
 kids.' So I says, 'Well I don't mind if I do/ 
 
 says I." 
 
 55
 
 56 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 Meanwhile Liza was looking at her. First 
 she noticed her dress: she wore a black cloak 
 and a funny, old-fashioned black bonnet ; then 
 examining the woman herself, she saw a mid- 
 dle-sized, stout person anywhere between 
 thirty and forty years old. She had a large, 
 fat face with a big mouth, and her hair was 
 curiously done, parted in the middle and plas- 
 tered down on each side of the head in little 
 plaits. One could see that she was a woman of 
 great strength, notwithstanding evident traces 
 of hard work and much child-bearing. 
 
 Liza knew all the other passengers, and now 
 that every one was settled down and had got 
 over the excitement of departure, they had 
 time to greet one another. They were de- 
 lighted to have Liza among them, for where 
 she was there was no dulness. Her attention 
 was first of all taken up by a young coster 
 who had arrayed himself in the traditional cos- 
 tume grey suit, tight trousers, and shiny but- 
 tons in profusion. 
 
 "Wot cheer, Bill!" she cried to him. 
 
 "Wot cheer, Liza!" he answered. 
 
 "You are got up dossy; you'll knock 'em."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 57 
 
 "Na then, Liza Kemp," said his companion, 
 turning round witii mock indignation, "y u let 
 my Johnny alone. If you come gettin' round 
 'im I'll give you wot for." 
 
 "Airight, Clary Sharp, I don't want 'im," 
 answered Liza. "I've got one of my own, an' 
 thet's a good 'andful ain't it, Tom?" 
 
 Tom was delighted, and, unable to find a 
 repartee, in his pleasure gave Liza a great 
 nudge with his elbow. 
 
 ' 'Oo, I say," said Liza, putting her hand 
 to her side. "Tike care of my ribs; you'll 
 brike 'em." 
 
 "Them's not yer ribs," shouted a candid 
 friend "them's yer whale-bones yer afraid of 
 breakin'." 
 
 "Garn!" 
 
 ' 'Ave yer got whale-bones ?" said Tom, with 
 affected simplicity, putting his arm round her 
 waist to feel. 
 
 "Na then," she said, "keep off the grass!" 
 
 "Well, I only wanted ter know if you'd got 
 any." 
 
 "Garn; yer don't git round me like thet." 
 
 He still kept as he was.
 
 58 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Na then," she repeated, "tike yer 'and 
 away. If yer touch me there you'll 'ave ter 
 marry me." 
 
 "Thet's just wot I wants ter do, Liza!" 
 
 "Shut it!" she answered, cruelly, and drew 
 his arm away from her waist. 
 
 The horses scampered on, and the man be- 
 hind blew his horn with vigour. 
 
 "Don't bust yerself, guv'ner!" said one of 
 the passengers to him when he made a par- 
 ticularly discordant sound. They drove along 
 eastwards, and as the hour grew later the 
 streets became more filled and the traffic 
 greater. At last they got on the road to Ching- 
 ford, and caught up numbers of other vehicles 
 going in the same direction donkey-shays, 
 pony-carts, tradesmen's carts, dog-carts, 
 drags, brakes, every conceivable kind of wheel 
 thing, all filled with people, the wretched don- 
 key dragging along four solid ratepayers to 
 the pair of stout horses easily managing a 
 couple of score. They exchanged cheers and 
 greetings as they passed, the "Red Lion" 
 brake being noticeable above all for its uproar- 
 iousness. As the day wore on the sun became
 
 Liza of Lambeth 59 
 
 hotter, and the road seemed more dusty and 
 threw up a greater heat. 
 
 "I am getting 'ot!" was the common cry, 
 and every one began to puff and sweat. 
 
 The ladies removed their cloaks and capes, 
 and the men, following their example, took off 
 their coats and sat in their shirt-sleeves. 
 Whereupon ensued much banter of a not par- 
 ticularly edifying kind respecting the garments 
 which each person would like to remove 
 which showed that the innuendo of French 
 farce is not so unknown to the upright, honest 
 Englishman as might be supposed. 
 
 At last came in sight the half-way house 
 where the horses were to have a rest and a 
 sponge down. They had been talking of it 
 for the last quarter of a mile, and when at 
 length it was observed on the top of a hill 
 a cheer broke out, and some thirsty wag be- 
 gan to sing "Rule Britannia," whilst others 
 burst forth with a different national ditty, 
 "Beer, Glorious Beer!" They drew up before 
 the pub entrance, and all climbed down as 
 quickly as they could. The bar was besieged, 
 and potmen and barmaids were quickly busy
 
 60 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 drawing beer and handing it over to the eager 
 folk outside. 
 
 THE IDYLL OF CORYDON AND PHYLLIS. 
 
 Gallantry ordered that the faithful swain 
 and the amorous shepherdess should drink out 
 of one and the same pot. 
 
 ' 'Urry up an' 'ave your whack," said Cory- 
 don, politely handing the foaming bowl for 
 his fair one to drink from. 
 
 Phyllis, without replying, raised it to her 
 lips and drank deep. The swain watched 
 anxiously. 
 
 "'Ere, give us a chanst!" he said, as the 
 pot was raised higher and higher and its con- 
 tents appeared to be getting less and less. 
 
 At this the amorous shepherdess stopped 
 and handed the pot to her lover. 
 
 "Well, I'm dashed!" said Corydon, looking 
 into it; and added, "I guess you know a thing 
 or two." Then with courtly grace putting his 
 own lips to the place where had been those of 
 his beloved, finished the pint. 
 
 "Go* lumme!" remarked the shepherdess, 
 smacking her lips, "that was somethin' like!"
 
 Liza of Lambeth 61 
 
 And she put out her tongue and licked her 
 lips, and then breathed deeply. 
 
 The faithful swain having finished, gave a 
 long sigh, and said: 
 
 "Well, I could do with some more!" 
 
 "For the matter of thet, I could do with a 
 gargle!" 
 
 Thus encouraged, the gallant returned to 
 the bar, and soon brought out a second pint. 
 
 "You 'ave fust pop," amorously remarked 
 Phyllis, and he took a long drink and handed 
 the pot to her. 
 
 She, with maiden modesty, turned it so as 
 to have a different part to drink from; but he 
 remarked as he saw her: 
 
 "You are bloomin' particular." 
 
 Then, unwilling to grieve him, she turned it 
 back again and applied her ruby lips to the 
 place where his had been. 
 
 "Now we sha'n't be long!" she remarked, as 
 she handed him back the pot. 
 
 The faithful swain took out of his pocket a 
 short clay pipe, blew through it, filled it, and 
 began to smoke, while Phyllis sighed at the 
 thought of the cool liquid gliding down her
 
 62 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 throat, and with the pleasing recollection 
 gently stroked her stomach. Then Cory don 
 spat, and immediately his love said: 
 
 "I can spit farther than thet." 
 
 "I bet yer yer can't." 
 
 She tried, and did. He collected himself 
 and spat again, further than before, she fol- 
 lowed him, and in this idyllic contest they re- 
 mained till the tootling horn warned them to 
 take their places 
 
 At last they reached Chingford, and here 
 the horses were taken out and the drag, on 
 which they were to lunch, drawn up in a shel- 
 tered spot. They were all rather hungry, but 
 as it was not yet feeding-time they scattered 
 to have drinks meanwhile. Liza and Tom, 
 with Sally and her young man, went off to- 
 gether to the nearest public-house, and as they 
 drank beer Harry, who was a great sportsman, 
 gave them a graphic account of a prize-fight 
 he had seen on the previous Saturday evening, 
 which had been rendered specially memorable 
 by one man being so hurt that he had died from 
 the effects. It had evidently been a very fine
 
 Liza of Lambeth 63 
 
 affair, and Harry said that several swells from 
 the West End had been present, and he related 
 their ludicrous efforts to get in without being 
 seen by any one, and their terror when some 
 one to frighten them called out "Copper!" 
 Then Tom and he entered into a discussion on 
 the subject of boxing, in which Tom, being a 
 shy and undogmatic sort of person, was en- 
 tirely worsted. After this they strolled back 
 to the brake, and found things being prepared 
 for luncheon; the hampers were brought out 
 and emptied, and the bottles of beer in great 
 profusion made many a thirsty mouth thirstier. 
 
 "Come along, lidies an' gentlemen if you 
 are gentlemen," shouted the coachman; "the 
 animals is now goin' ter be fed!" 
 
 "Garn awy," answered somebody, "we're 
 not hanimals; we don't drink water." 
 
 "You're too clever," remarked the coach- 
 man; "I can see you've just come from the 
 board school." 
 
 As the former speaker was a lady of quite 
 mature appearance, the remark was not with- 
 out its little irony. The other man blew his
 
 64 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 horn by way of grace, at which Liza called out 
 to him: 
 
 "Don't do thet ; you'll bust, I know you will, 
 an' if you bust you'll quite spoil my dinner !" 
 
 Then they all set to. Pork-pies, saveloys, 
 sausages, cold potatoes, hard-boiled eggs, 
 cold bacon, veal, ham, crabs and shrimps, 
 cheese, butter, cold suet-puddings and treacle, 
 gooseberry-tarts, cherry-tarts, butter, bread, 
 more sausages, and yet again pork-pies ! They 
 devoured the provisions like ravening beasts, 
 stolidly, silently, earnestly, in large mouthfuls 
 which they shoved down their throats unmasti- 
 cated. The intelligent foreigner seeing them 
 thus dispose of their food would have under- 
 stood why England is a great nation. He 
 would have understood why Britons never, 
 never will be slaves. They never stopped ex- 
 cept to drink, and then at each gulp they 
 emptied their glass; no heel-taps! And still 
 they ate, and still they drank but as all things 
 must cease, they stopped at last, and a long 
 sigh of content broke from their two-and-thirty 
 throats. 
 
 Then the gathering broke up, and the good
 
 Liza of Lambeth 65 
 
 folk paired themselves and separated. Harry 
 and his lady strolled off to secluded byways 
 in the forest, so that they might discourse of 
 their loves and digest their dinner. Tom had 
 all the morning been waiting for this happy 
 moment; he had counted on the expansive 
 effect of a full stomach to thaw his Liza's cold- 
 ness, and he had pictured himself sitting on 
 the grass with his back against the trunk of a 
 spreading chestnut-tree, with his arm round 
 his Liza's waist, and her head resting affection- 
 ately on his manly bosom. Liza too had fore- 
 seen the separation into couples after dinner, 
 and had been racking her brains to find a means 
 of getting out of it. 
 
 "I don't want 'im slobberin' abaht me," she 
 said; "it gives me the sick, all this kissin' an' 
 cuddlin'!" 
 
 She scarcely knew why she objected to his 
 caresses; but they bored her and made her 
 cross. But luckily the blessed institution of 
 marriage came to her rescue, for Jim and his 
 wife naturally had no particular desire to 
 spend the afternoon together, and Liza, see- 
 ing a little embarrassment on their part, pro-
 
 66 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 posed that they should go for a walk together 
 in the Forest. 
 
 Jim agreed at once, and with pleasure; but 
 Tom was dreadfully disappointed. He hadn't 
 the courage to say anything, but he glared at 
 Blakeston. Jim smiled benignly at him, and 
 Tom began to sulk. Then they began a funny 
 walk through the woods. Jim tried to go on 
 with Liza, and Liza was not at all disinclined 
 to this, for she had come to the conclusion that 
 Jim, notwithstanding his "cheek," was not 
 " 'alf a bad sort." But Tom kept walking 
 alongside of them, and as Jim slightly quick- 
 ened his pace so as to get Liza on in front, 
 Tom quickened his, and Mrs. Blakeston, who 
 didn't want to be left behind, had to break into 
 a little trot to keep up with them. Jim tried 
 also to get Liza all to himself in the conversa- 
 tion, and let Tom see that he was out in the 
 cold, but Tom would break in with cross, sulky 
 remarks, just to make the others uncomfort- 
 able. Liza at last got rather vexed with him. 
 
 "Strikes me you got aht of bed the wrong 
 way this mornin'," she said to him. 
 
 " L Yer didn't think thet when yer said you'd
 
 Liza of Lambeth 67 
 
 come aht with me." He emphasized the "me.'* 
 
 Liza shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "You give me the 'ump," she said. "If yer 
 wants ter mike a fool of yerself, you can go 
 elsewhere an' do it." 
 
 "I suppose yer want me ter go awy now," he 
 said, angrily. 
 
 "I didn't say I did." 
 
 "Arright, Liza, I won't stay where I'm not 
 wanted." And turning on his heel he marched 
 off, striking through the underwood into the 
 midst of the Forest. 
 
 He felt extremely unhappy as he wandered 
 on, and there was a choky feeling in his throat 
 as he thought of Liza : she was very unkind and 
 ungrateful, and he wished he had never come 
 to Chingford. She might so easily have come 
 for a walk with him instead of going with that 
 beast of a Blakeston; she wouldn't ever do 
 anything for him, and he hated her but all the 
 same he was a poor foolish thing in love, and 
 he began to feel that perhaps he had been a 
 little exacting and a little forward to take 
 offence. And then he wished he had never 
 said anything, and he wanted so much to see
 
 68 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 her and make it up. He made his way back to 
 Chingford, hoping she would not make him 
 wait too long. 
 
 Liza was a little surprised when Tom turned 
 and left them. 
 
 "Wot 'as 'e got the needle abaht?" she said. 
 
 "Why 'e's jealous," answered Jim, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 "Tom jealous?" 
 
 "Yus; 'e's jealous of me." 
 
 "Well, 'e ain't got no cause ter be jealous of 
 any one that 'e ain't!" said Liza, and con- 
 tinued by telling him all about Tom: how he 
 had wanted to marry her and she wouldn't have 
 him, and how she had only agreed to come to 
 Chingford with him on the understanding that 
 she should preserve her entire freedom. Jim 
 listened sympathetically, but his wife paid no 
 attention; she was doubtless engaged in 
 thought respecting her household or her 
 family. 
 
 When they got back to Chingford they saw 
 Tom standing in solitude looking at them. 
 Liza was struck by the woebegone expression
 
 Liza of Lambeth 69 
 
 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^""""""" "'^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 on his face ; she felt she had been cruel to him, 
 and leaving the Blakestons went up to him. 
 
 "I say, Tom," she said, "don't tike on so; 
 I didn't mean it." 
 
 He was bursting to apologise for his be- 
 haviour. 
 
 "Yer know, Tom," she went on, "I'm rather 
 'asty, an' I'm sorry I said wot I did." 
 
 "Oh, Liza, you are good! You ain't cross 
 with me?" 
 
 "Me? Na; it's you thet oughter be cross.'* 
 
 "You are a good sort, Liza!" 
 
 "You ain't vexed with me?" 
 
 "Give me Liza every time; that's wot I say," 
 he answered., as his face lit up. "Come along 
 an' 'ave tea, an' then we'll go for a donkey- 
 ride." 
 
 The donkey-ride was a great success. Liza 
 was a little afraid at first, so Tom walked by 
 her side to take care of her; she screamed the 
 moment the beast began to trot, and clutched 
 hold of Tom to save herself from falling, and 
 as he felt her hand on his shoulder, and heard 
 her appealingly cry, "Oh, do 'old me! I'm 
 fallin'!" he felt that he had never in his life
 
 70 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 been so deliriously happy. The whole party 
 joined in, and it was proposed that they should 
 have races ; but in the first heat, when the don- 
 keys broke into a canter, Liza fell off into 
 Tom's arms and the donkey scampered on 
 without her. 
 
 "I know wot I'll do," she said, when the run- 
 away had been recovered, "111 ride 'im strad- 
 dlewyse." 
 
 "Garn!" said Sally, "yer can't with petti- 
 coats." 
 
 "Yus, I can; an' I will too!" 
 
 So another donkey was procured, this time 
 with a man's saddle, and putting her foot in 
 the stirrup, she cocked her leg over and took 
 her seat triumphantly. Neither modesty nor 
 bashfulness was to be reckoned among Liza's 
 faults, and in this position she felt quite at 
 ease. 
 
 "I'll get along arright now, Tom," she said; 
 "you garn and git yerself a moke, and come an' 
 jine in." 
 
 The next race was perfectly uproarious. 
 Liza kicked and beat her donkey with all her 
 might, shrieking and laughing the while, and
 
 Liza of Lambeth 7 1 
 
 finally came in winner by a length. After that 
 they felt rather warm and dry, and repaired to 
 the public-house to restore themselves and talk 
 over the excitements of the racecourse. 
 
 When they had drunk several pints of beer 
 Liza and Sally, with their respective adorers 
 and the Blakestons, walked round to find 
 other means of amusing themselves ; they were 
 arrested by a cocoanut-shy. 
 
 "Oh, let's 'ave a shy!" said Liza, excitedly, 
 at which the unlucky men had to pull out their 
 coppers, while Sally and Liza made ludicrously 
 bad shots at the cocoanuts. 
 
 "It looks so bloomin' easy," said Liza, brush- 
 ing up her hair, "but I can't 'it the blasted 
 thing. You 'ave a shot, Tom." 
 
 He and Harry were equally unskilful, but 
 Jim got three cocoanuts running, and the pro- 
 prietors of the show began to look on him with 
 some concern. 
 
 "You are a dab at it," said Liza, in ad- 
 miration. 
 
 They tried to induce Mrs. Blakeston to try 
 her luck, but she stoutly refused.
 
 72 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "I don't 'old with such foolishness. It's 
 wiste of money ter me," she said. 
 
 "Na then, don]t crack on, old tart," re- 
 marked her husband, "let's go an' eat the cocoa- 
 nuts." 
 
 There was one for each couple, and after 
 the ladies had sucked the juice they divided 
 them and added their respective shares to their 
 dinners and teas. Supper came next. Again 
 they fell to sausage-rolls, boiled eggs, and 
 saveloys, and countless bottles of beer were 
 added to those already drunk. 
 
 "I dunno 'ow many bottles of beer I've 
 drunk I've lost count," said Liza; whereat 
 there was a general laugh. 
 
 They still had an hour before the brake was 
 to start back, and it was then the concertinas 
 came in useful. They sat down on the grass, 
 and the concert was begun by Harry, who 
 played a solo ; then there was a call for a song, 
 and Jim stood up and sang that ancient ditty, 
 "O dem Golden Kippers, O." There was no 
 shyness in the company, and Liza, almost with- 
 out being asked, gave another popular comic 
 song. Then there was more concertina play-
 
 Liza of Lambeth 73 
 
 ing, and another demand for a song. Liza 
 turned to Tom, who was sitting quietly by 
 her side. 
 
 "Give us a song, old cock," she said. 
 
 "I can't," he answered. "I'm not a singin' 
 sort." At which Blakeston got up and offered 
 to sing again. 
 
 "Tom is rather a soft," said Liza to herself, 
 "not like that cove Blakeston." 
 
 They repaired to the public-house to have a 
 few last drinks before the brake started, and 
 when the horn blew to warn them, rather un- 
 steadily, they proceeded to take their places. 
 
 Liza, as she scrambled up the steps, said, 
 "Well, I believe I'm boozed." 
 
 The coachman had arrived at the melan- 
 choly stage of intoxication, and was sitting on 
 his box holding his reins, with his head bent 
 on his chest. He was thinking sadly of the 
 long-lost days of his youth, and wishing he had 
 been a better man. 
 
 Liza had no respect for such holy emotions, 
 and she brought down her fist on the crown of 
 his hat, and bashed it over his eyes.
 
 74 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Na then, old jellybelly," she said, "wot's 
 the good of 'avin' a fice as long as a kite?" 
 
 He turned round and smote her. 
 
 "Jellybelly yerself !" said he. 
 
 "Puddin' fice!" she cried. 
 
 "Kite fice!" 
 
 "Boss eye!" 
 
 She was tremendously excited, laughing and 
 singing, keeping the whole company in an 
 uproar. In her jollity she had changed hats 
 with Tom, and he in her big feathers made her 
 shriek with laughter. When they started they 
 began to sing "For Vs a jolly good feller," 
 making the night resound with their noisy 
 voices. 
 
 Liza and Tom and the Blakestons had got a 
 seat together, Liza being between the two men. 
 Tom was perfectly happy, and only wished 
 that they might go on so for ever. Gradually 
 as they drove along they became quieter, their 
 singing ceased, and they talked in undertones. 
 Some of them slept ; Sally and her young man 
 were leaning up against one another slumber- 
 ing quite peacefully. The night was beautiful, 
 the sky still blue, very dark, scattered over
 
 Liza of Lambeth 75 
 
 with countless brilliant stars, and Liza, as she 
 looked up at the heavens, felt a certain emo- 
 tion, as if she wished to be taken in some one's 
 arms, or feel some strong man's caresses; and 
 there was in her heart a strange sensation as 
 though it were growing big. She stopped 
 speaking, and all four were silent. Then 
 slowly she felt Tom's arm steal round her 
 waist, cautiously, as though it were afraid of 
 being there ; this time both she and Tom were 
 happy. But suddenly there was a movement 
 on the other side of her, a hand was advanced 
 along her leg, and her hand was grasped and 
 gently pressed. It was Jim Blakeston. She 
 started a little and began trembling so that 
 Tom noticed it, and whispered: 
 
 "You're cold, Liza." 
 
 "Na, I'm not, Tom; it's only a sort of shiver 
 thet went through me." 
 
 His arm gave her waist a squeeze, and at 
 the same time the big rough hand pressed her 
 little one. And so she sat between them till 
 they reached the "Red Lion" in the Westmin- 
 ster Bridge Road, and Tom said to himself, "I 
 believe she does care for me after all."
 
 76 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 When they got down they all said good- 
 night, and Sally and Liza, with their respective 
 slaves and the Blakestons, marched off home- 
 wards. At the corner of Vere Street Harry 
 said to Tom and Blakeston: 
 
 "I say, you blokes, let's go an' 'ave another 
 drink before closin' time." 
 
 "I don't mind," said Tom, "after we've took 
 the gals 'ome." 
 
 "Then we sha'n't 'ave time; it's just on 
 closin' time now," answered Harry. 
 
 "Well, we can't leave 'em 'ere." 
 
 "Yus, you can," said Sally. ""No one'll 
 run awy with us." 
 
 Tom did not want to part from Liza, but she 
 broke in with : 
 
 "Yus, go on, Tom. Sally an' me'll git along 
 arright ; an' you ain't got too much time." 
 
 "Yus, good-night, 'Arry," said Sally, to 
 settle the matter. 
 
 "Good-night, old gal," he answered, "give 
 us another slobber." 
 
 And she, not at all unwilling, surrendered 
 herself to him, while he imprinted two sound- 
 ing kisses on her cheeks.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 77 
 
 "Good-night, Tom," said Liza, holding out 
 her hand. 
 
 "Good-night, Liza," he answered, taking it, 
 but looking very wistfully at her. 
 
 She understood, and with a kindly smile 
 lifted up her face to him. He bent down, 
 and taking her in his arms kissed her pas- 
 sionately. 
 
 "You do kiss nice, Liza," he said, making 
 the others laugh. 
 
 "Thanks for tikin' me aht, old man," she 
 said as they parted. 
 
 "Arright, Liza," he answered, and added, al- 
 most to himself, "God bless yer!" 
 
 " 'Ulloa, Blakeston, ain't you comin'?" said 
 Harry, seeing that Jim was walking off with 
 his wife instead of joining him and Tom. 
 
 "Na," he answered, "I'm goin' 'ome. I've 
 got ter be up at five ter-morrer." 
 
 "You are a chap !" said Harry, disgustedly, 
 strolling off with Tom to the pub, while the 
 others made their way down the sleeping street. 
 
 The house where Sally lived came first, and 
 she left them ; then, walking a few yards more, 
 they came to the Blakestons', and after a little
 
 78 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 talk at the door Liza bade the couple good- 
 night, and was left to walk the rest of the way 
 alone. The street was perfectly silent, and the 
 lamp-posts, far apart, threw a dim light which 
 only served to make Liza realise her solitude. 
 There was such a difference between the street 
 at midday, with its swarms of people, and now, 
 when there was neither sound nor soul besides 
 herself, that even she was struck by it. The 
 regular line of houses on either side, with the 
 even pavements and straight, cemented road, 
 seemed to her like some desert place, as if every 
 one were dead, or a fire had raged and left it 
 all desolate. Suddenly she heard a footstep; 
 she started and looked back. It was a man 
 hurrying behind her, and in a moment she had 
 recognised Jim. He beckoned to her, and in a 
 low voice called: 
 
 "Liza!" 
 
 She stopped till he had come up to her. 
 
 "Wot 'ave yer come aht again for?" she said. 
 
 "I've come aht ter say good-night to you, 
 Liza," he answered. 
 
 "But yer said good-night a moment ago." 
 
 "I wanted ter say it again properly."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 79 
 
 "Where's yer missus?" 
 
 "Oh, she's gone in. I said I was dry and 
 was goin' ter 'ave a drink after all." 
 
 "But she'll know yer didn't go ter the pub." 
 
 "Na, she won't; she's gone straight up- 
 stairs to see after the kid. I wanted ter see 
 yer alone, Liza." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 He didn't answer, but tried to take hold of 
 her hand. She drew it away quickly. They 
 walked in silence till they came to Liza's house. 
 
 "Good-night," said Liza. 
 
 "Won't you come for a little walk, Liza?" 
 
 "Tike care no one 'ears you," she said, in a 
 whisper, though why she whispered she did not 
 know. 
 
 "Will yer?" he asked again. 
 
 "Na you've got to get up at five." 
 
 "Oh, I only said thet not ter go inter the 
 pub with them." 
 
 "So as yer might come 'ere with me?" asked 
 Liza. 
 
 "Yus!" 
 
 "No, I'm not comin'. Good-night." 
 
 "Well, say good-night nicely."
 
 8o Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Wot d'yer mean?" 
 
 "Tom said you did kiss nice." 
 
 She looked at him without speaking, and in 
 a moment he had clasped his arms round her, 
 almost lifting her off her feet, and kissed her. 
 She turned her face away. 
 
 "Give us yer lips, Liza," he whispered 
 "give us yer lips." 
 
 He turned her face without resistance and 
 kissed her on the mouth. 
 
 At last she tore herself from him, and open- 
 ing the door slid away into the house.
 
 Chapter Six 
 
 NEXT morning on her way to the factory 
 Liza came up with Sally. They were 
 both of them rather stale and bedraggled after 
 the day's outing ; their fringes were ragged and 
 untidily straying over their foreheads, their 
 back hair, carelessly tied in a loose knot, fell 
 over their necks and threatened completely to 
 come down. Liza had not had time to put her 
 hat on, and was holding it in her hand. Sally's 
 was pinned on sideways, and she had to bash 
 it down on her head every now and then to pre- 
 vent its coming off. Cinderella herself was 
 not more transformed than they were; but 
 Cinderella even in her rags was virtuously tidy 
 and patched up, while Sally had a great tear 
 in her shabby dress, and Liza's stockings were 
 falling over her boots. 
 
 "Wot cheer, Sal!" said Liza, when she 
 caught her up. 
 
 "Oh, I 'ave got sich a 'ead on me this morn- 
 Si
 
 82 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 in'!" she remarked, turning round a pale face 
 heavily lined under the eyes. 
 
 "I don't feel too chirpy neither," said Liza, 
 sympathetically. 
 
 "I wish I 'adn't drunk so much beer," added 
 Sally, as a pang shot through her head. 
 
 "Oh, you'll be arright in a bit," said Liza. 
 Just then they heard the clock strike eight, 
 and they began to run so that they might not 
 miss getting their tokens and thereby their 
 day's pay; they turned into the street at the 
 end of which was the factory, and saw half a 
 hundred women running like themselves to get 
 in before it was too late. 
 
 All the morning Liza worked in a dead-and- 
 alive sort of fashion, her head like a piece of 
 lead with electric shocks going through it when 
 she moved, and her tongue and mouth hot and 
 dry. At last lunch-time came. 
 
 "Come on, Sal," said Liza; "I'm goin' to 
 'ave a glass o' bitter. I can't stand this no 
 longer." 
 
 So they entered the public-house opposite, 
 and in one draught finished their pots. Liza 
 gave a long sigh of relief.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 83 
 
 "That bucks you up, don't it?" 
 
 "I was dry ! I ain't told yer yet, Liza, 'ave 
 I ? 'E got it aht last night." 
 
 " Who d'yer mean?" 
 
 "Why, 'Any. 'E spit it aht at last." 
 
 "Arst yer ter nime the day?" said Liza, 
 smiling. 
 
 "Thet's it." 
 
 "And did yer?" 
 
 "Didn't I jest!" answered Sally, with some 
 emphasis. "I always told yer I'd git off be- 
 fore you." 
 
 "Yus!" said Liza, thinking. 
 
 "Yer know, Liza, you'd better tike Tom; 
 'e ain't a bad sort." She was quite patronising. 
 
 "I'm goin' ter tike 'oo I like; an' it ain't no- 
 body's business but mine." 
 
 "Arright, Liza, don't get shirty over it; I 
 don't mean no offence." 
 
 "What d'yer say it for then?" 
 
 "Well, I thought as seeing as yer'd gone aht 
 with 'im yesterday thet yer meant ter after 
 all." 
 
 ' 'E wanted ter tike me; I didn't arsk 'im.'* 
 
 "Well, I didn't arsk my 'Any, either."
 
 84 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "I never said yer did," replied Liza. 
 
 "Oh, you've got the 'limp, you 'ave!" finished 
 Sally, rather angrily. 
 
 The beer had restored Liza; she went back 
 to work without a headache, and, except for a 
 slight languor, feeling no worse for the previ- 
 ous day's debauch. As she worked on she 
 began going over in her mind the events of 
 the preceding day, and she found entwined 
 in all her thoughts the burly person of Jim 
 Blakeston. She saw him walking by her side 
 in the Forest, presiding over the meals, play- 
 ing the concertina, singing, joking; and finally, 
 on the drive back, she felt the heavy form by 
 her side, and the big, rough hand holding hers, 
 while Tom's arm was round her waist. Tom! 
 That was the first time he had entered her 
 mind, and he sank into a shadow beside the 
 other. Last of all she remembered the walk 
 home from the pub, the good-nights, and the 
 rapid footstep as Jim caught her up, and the 
 kiss. She blushed and looked up quickly to see 
 whether any of the girls were looking at her; 
 she could not help thinking of that moment 
 when he took her in his arms ; she still felt the
 
 Liza of Lambeth 85 
 
 roughness of his beard pressing on her mouth. 
 Her heart seemed to grow larger in her breast, 
 and she caught for breath as she threw back 
 her head as if to receive his lips again. A 
 shudder ran through her from the vividness 
 of the thought. 
 
 "Wot are you shiverin' for, Liza?" asked 
 one of the girls. "You ain't cold." 
 
 "Not much," answered Liza, blushing awk- 
 wardly on her meditations being broken into. 
 "Why, I'm sweatin' so I'm drippin' wet." 
 
 "I expect yer caught cold in the Faurest 
 yesterday." 
 
 "I see your mash as I was comin' along 
 this mornin'." 
 
 Liza started a little. 
 
 "I ain't got one; 'oo d'yer mean, ay?" 
 
 "Yer only Tom, of course. 'E did look 
 washed aht. Wot was yer doin' with 'im 
 yesterday?" 
 
 " 'E ain't got nothing ter do with me, 'e 
 ain't." 
 
 "Garn; don't you tell me!" 
 
 The bell rang, and, (throwing over thjeir 
 work, the girls trooped off, and after chatter-
 
 86 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 ing in groups outside the factory gates for a 
 while, made their way in different directions 
 to their respective homes. Liza and Sally 
 went along together. 
 
 "I sy, we are comin' aht!" cried Sally, see- 
 ing the advertisement of a play being acted 
 at the neighbouring theatre. 
 
 "I should like ter see thet!" said Liza, as 
 they stood arm in arm in front of the flaring 
 poster. It represented two rooms and a pas- 
 sage in between; in one room a dead man was 
 lying on the floor, while two others were stand- 
 ing horror-stricken, listening to a youth who 
 was in the passage, knocking at the door. 
 
 "You see, they've killed 3 im," said Sally, 
 excitedly. 
 
 "Yus, any fool can see thet! an' the one 
 ahtside, wot's 'e doin' of?" 
 
 "Ain't 'e beautiful? I'll git my 'Arry ter 
 tike me, I will. I should like ter see it. 'E 
 said 'e'd tike me to the ply." 
 
 They strolled on again, and Liza, leaving 
 Sally, made her way to her mother's. She 
 knew she must pass Jim's house, and wondered 
 whether she would see him. But as she walked
 
 Liza of Lambeth 87 
 
 along the street she saw Tom coming the op- 
 posite way; with a sudden impulse she turned 
 back so as not to meet him, and began walking 
 the way she had come. Then thinking herself 
 a fool for what she had done, she turned again 
 and walked towards him. She wondered if 
 he had seen her or noticed her movement, but 
 when she looked down the street he was no- 
 where to be seen; he had not caught sight of 
 her, and had evidently gone in to see a mate in 
 one or other of the houses. She quickened her 
 step, and passing the house where lived Jim, 
 could not help looking up ; he was standing at 
 the door watching her, with a smile on his lips. 
 
 "I didn't see yer, Mr. Blakeston," she said, 
 as he came up to her. 
 
 "Didn't yer? Well, I knew yer would; an' 
 before ter-day." 
 I was witin' for yer ter look up. I see yer 
 
 "Na, when?" 
 
 "I passed be'ind yer as you an' thet other 
 girl was lookin' at the advertisement of thet 
 
 ply." 
 
 "I never see yer."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Na, I know yer didn't. I 'ear yer say, you 
 says, 'I should like to see thet.' ' 
 
 "Yus, an' I should too." 
 
 "Well, I'll tike yer." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 "Yus; why not?" 
 
 "I like thet; wot would yer missus sy?" 
 
 "She wouldn't know." 
 
 "But the neighbours would!" 
 
 "No, they wouldn't; no one 'd see us." 
 
 He was speaking in a low voice so that peo- 
 ple could not hear. 
 
 "You could meet me ahtside the theatre," 
 he went on. 
 
 "Na, I couldn't go with you ; you're a mar- 
 ried man." 
 
 "Garn! wot's thet matter jest ter go ter 
 the ply? An' besides, my missus can't come 
 if she wanted ; she's got the kids ter look after." 
 
 "I should like ter see it," said Liza, medi- 
 tatively. 
 
 They had reached her house, and Jim said 
 
 "Well, come aht this evenin' and tell me 
 if yer will eh, Liza?" 
 
 "Na, I'm not comin' aht this evening."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 89 
 
 "Thet won't 'urt yer. I shall wite for yer." 
 
 " 'Tain't a bit of good your witin', 'cause I 
 sha'n't come." 
 
 "Well, then, look 'ere, Liza; next Saturday 
 night's the last night, an' I shall go to the thea- 
 tre, any'ow. An' if you'll come, you just come 
 to the doors at 'alf-past six, an' you'll find me 
 there. See?" 
 
 "Na, I don't," said Liza, firmly. 
 
 "Well, I shall expect yer." 
 
 "I sha'n't come, so you needn't expect." 
 And with that she walked into the house and 
 slammed the door behind her. 
 
 Her mother had not come in from her day's 
 charring, and Liza set about getting her tea. 
 She thought it would be rather lonely eating 
 it alone, so pouring out a cup of tea and put- 
 ting a little condensed milk into it, she cut a 
 huge piece of bread-and-butter, and sat her- 
 self down outside on the doorstep. Another 
 woman came downstairs, and seeing Liza, sat 
 down by her side and began to talk. 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Stanley, wot 'ave yer done to 
 your 'ead?" asked Liza, noticing a bandage 
 round her forehead.
 
 9O Liza of Lambeth 
 
 " 'ad an accident last night," answered the 
 woman, blushing uneasily. 
 
 "Oh, I am sorry! Wot did yer do to yer- 
 self?" 
 
 "I fell against the coal-scuttle and cut my 
 'ead open." 
 
 "Well, I never!" 
 
 "To tell yer the truth, I 'ad a few words 
 with my old man. But one doesn't like them 
 things ter git abaht; yer won't tall any one, 
 will yer?" 
 
 "Not me!" answered Liza. "I didn't know 
 yer husband was like thet." 
 
 "Oh, Vs as gentle as a lamb when 'e's so- 
 ber," said Mrs. Stanley, apologetically. "But, 
 Lor' bless yer, when 'e's 'ad a drop too much 
 'e's a demond, an' there's no two ways abaht 
 it." 
 
 "An' you ain't been married long, neither?" 
 said Liza. 
 
 "Na, not above eighteen months; ain't it 
 disgriceful? Thet's wot the doctor at the 
 'orspital says ter me. I 'ad ter go ter the 
 'orspital. You should have seen 'ow it bled! 
 it bled all dahn my fice, and went streamin'
 
 Liza of Lambeth 91 
 
 like a bust water-pipe. Well, it fair fright- 
 ened my old man, an' I says ter 'im, 'I'll charge 
 yer,' an' although I was bleedin' like a bloomin' 
 pig I shook my fist at 'im, an' I says, 'I'll 
 charge yer see if I don't !' An' 'e says, 'Na,' 
 says 'e, 'don't do thet, for God's sike, Kitie, 
 I'll git three months.' 'An' serve yer damn 
 well right!' says I, an' I went aht an' left 'im. 
 But, Lor' bless yer, I wouldn't charge 'im! 
 I know 'e don't mean it ; 'e's as gentle as a lamb 
 when 'e's sober." She smiled quite affection- 
 ately as she said this. 
 
 "Wot did yer do, then?" asked Liza. 
 
 "Well, as I wos tellin' yer, I went to the 
 'orspital, an' the doctor 'e says ter me, 'My 
 good woman,' says 'e, 'you might have been 
 very seriously injured.' An' me not been 
 married eighteen months ! An' as I was tellin' 
 the doctor all about it, 'Missus,' 'e says ter me, 
 lookin' at me straight in the eyeball, 'Missus/ 
 says 'e, ' 'ave you been drinkin'?' 'Drinkin'?' 
 says I; 'no! I've 'ad a little drop, but as for 
 drinkin'! Mind,' says I, 'I don't say I'm a 
 teetotaler I'm not; I 'ave my glass of beer, 
 and I like it. I couldn't do withaht it, wot
 
 92 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 with the work I 'ave, I must 'ave somethin' 
 ter keep me tergether. But as for drinkin' 
 'eavily! Well, I can say this, there ain't a 
 soberer woman than myself in all London. 
 Why, my fust 'usband never touched a drop. 
 Ah, my fust 'usband, 'e was a beauty, 'e was.' ' 
 
 She stopped the repetition of her conversa- 
 tion and addressed herself to Liza. 
 
 ' 'E was thet different ter this one. 'E was 
 a man as 'ad seen better days. 'E was a gen- 
 tleman!" She mouthed the word and empha- 
 sised it with an expressive nod. 
 
 ' 'E was a gentleman and a Christian. 'E'd 
 been in good circumstances in 'is time; an' 'e 
 was a man of education and a teetotaler for 
 twenty-two years." 
 
 At that moment Liza's mother appeared on 
 the scene. 
 
 "Good evenin', Mrs. Stanley," she said, po- 
 litely. 
 
 "The sime ter you, Mrs. Kemp," replied that 
 lady, with equal courtesy. 
 
 "An* 'ow is your poor 'ead?" asked Liza's 
 mohter, with sympathy.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 93 
 
 "Oh, it's been achin' cruel. I've hardly 
 known wot ter do with myself." 
 
 "I'm sure 'e ought ter be ashimed of 'imself 
 for treatin' yer like thet." 
 
 "Oh, it wasn't 'is blows I minded so much, 
 Mrs. Kemp," replied Mrs. Stanley, "an' don't 
 you think it. It was wot 'e said ter me. I can 
 stand a blow as well as any woman. I don't 
 mind thet, an' when 'e don't tike a mean ad- 
 vantage of me I can stand up for myself an' 
 give as good as I tike; an' many's the time 
 I give my fust 'usband a black eye. But the 
 language 'e used, an' the things 'e called me! 
 It mide me blush to the roots of my 'air; I'm 
 not used ter bein' spoken ter like thet. I was 
 in good circumstances when my fust 'usband 
 was alive, 'e earned between two an' three 
 pounds a week, 'e did. As I said to 'im this 
 mornin', ' 'Ow a gentleman can use sich lan- 
 guage, I dunno.' ' 
 
 : 'Usbands is cautions, 'owever good they 
 are," said Mrs. Kemp, aphoristically. "But 
 I mustn't stay aht 'ere in the night air." 
 
 ' 'As yer rheumatism been troublin' yer 
 litely?" asked Mrs. Stanley.
 
 94 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Oh, cruel. Liza rubs me with embrocation 
 every night, but it torments me cruel." 
 
 Mrs. Kemp then went into the house, and 
 Liza remained talking to Mrs. Stanley; she 
 too had to go in, and Liza was left alone. 
 Some while she spent thinking of nothing, star- 
 ing vacantly in front of her, enjoying the cool 
 and quiet of the evening. But Liza could not 
 be left alone long; several boys came along 
 with a bat and a ball, and fixed upon the road 
 just in front of her for their pitch. Taking 
 off their coats they piled them up at the two 
 ends, and were ready to begin. 
 
 "I say, old gal," said one of them to Liza, 
 "come an' have a gime of cricket, will yer?" 
 
 "Na, Bob, I'm tired." 
 
 "Come on!" 
 
 "Na, I tell you I won't." 
 
 "She was on the booze yesterday, an' she 
 ain't got over it," cried another boy. 
 
 "I'll swipe yer over the snitch!" replied 
 Liza to him; and then on being asked again, 
 said 
 
 "Leave me alone, won't yer?"
 
 Liza of Lambeth 95 
 
 "Liza's got the needle ter-night, thet's flat," 
 commented a third member of the team. 
 
 "I wouldn't drink if I was you, Liza," added 
 another, with mock gravity. "It's a bad 'abit 
 ter git into," and he began rolling and sway- 
 ing about like a drunken man. 
 
 If Liza had been "in form" she would have 
 gone straight away and given the whole lot of 
 them a sample of her strength; but she was 
 only rather bored and vexed that they should 
 disturb her quietness, so she let them talk. 
 They saw she was not to be drawn, and leaving 
 her, set to their game. She watched them for 
 some time, but her thoughts gradually lost 
 themselves, and insensibly her mind was filled 
 with a burly form, and she was again think- 
 ing of Jim. 
 
 ' 'E is a good sort ter want ter tike me ter 
 the ply," she said to herself. "Tom never arst 
 me!" 
 
 Jim had said he would come out in the eve- 
 ning; he ought to be here soon, she thought. 
 Of course she wasn't going to the theatre with 
 him, but she didn't mind talking to him; she 
 rather enjoyed being asked to do a thing and
 
 96 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 refusing, and she would have liked another op- 
 portunity of doing so. But he didn't come, 
 and he had said he would ! 
 
 "I say, Bill," she said at last to one of the 
 boys who was fielding close beside her, "that 
 there Blakeston d'you know 'em?" 
 
 "Yus, rather; why, he works at the sime 
 plice as me." 
 
 "Wot's 'e do with 'isself in the evening; I 
 never see 'im abaht?" 
 
 "I dunno. I see 'im this evenin' go into 
 the 'Red Lion.' I suppose Vs there, but I 
 dunno." 
 
 Then he wasn't coming. Of course she had 
 fold him she was going to stay indoors, but he 
 might have come all the same just to see. 
 
 "I know Tom 'ud 'ave come," she said to 
 herself, rather sulkily. 
 
 "Liza! Liza!" she heard her mother's voice 
 calling her. 
 
 "Arright, I'm comin'," said Liza. 
 
 "I've been witin' for you this last 'alf-hour 
 ter rub me." 
 
 "Why didn't yer call?" asked Liza. 
 
 "I did call. I've been callin' this last I
 
 Liza of Lambeth 97 
 
 dunno 'ow long; it's give me quite a sore 
 throat." 
 
 "I never 'card yer." 
 
 "Na, yer didn't want ter 'ear me, did yer? 
 Yer don't mind if I dies with rheumatics, do 
 yer? I know." 
 
 Liza did not answer, but took the bottle, 
 and, pouring some of the liniment on her hand, 
 began to rub it into Mrs. Kemp's rheumatic 
 joints, while the invalid kept complaining and 
 grumbling at everything Liza did. 
 
 "Don't rub so 'ard, Liza; you'll rub all the 
 skin off." 
 
 Then when Liza did it as gently as she could, 
 she grumbled again. 
 
 "If you do it like thet, it won't do no good 
 at all. You want ter sive yerself trouble 
 I know yer. When I was young girls didn't 
 mind a little bit of 'ard work but, law bless 
 yer, you don't care abaht my rheumatics, do 
 yer?" 
 
 At last she finished, and Liza went to bed by 
 her mother's side.
 
 Chapter Seven 
 
 TWO days passed, and it was Friday 
 morning. Liza had got up early and 
 strolled off to her work in good time, but she 
 did not meet her faithful Sally on the way, nor 
 find her at the factory when she herself ar- 
 rived. The bell rang and all the girls trooped 
 in, but still Sally did not come. Liza could 
 not make it out, and was thinking she would 
 be shut out, when just as the man who gave 
 out the tokens for the day's work was pulling 
 down the shutter in front of his window, Sally 
 arrived, breathless and perspiring. 
 
 "Whew! Go' lumme, I am 'ot!" she said, 
 wiping her face with her apron. 
 
 "I thought you wasn't comin'," said Liza. 
 
 "Well, I only just did it; I overslep' my- 
 self. I was aht lite last night." 
 
 "Were yer?" 
 
 "Me an' 'Arry went ter see the ply. Oh, 
 Liza, it's simply spiffin'! I've never see sich 
 
 99
 
 ioo Liza of Lambeth 
 
 y^***^""""^^^^^" "^^^^^ ' 
 
 a good ply in my life. Lor' ! Why, it mikes 
 yer blood run cold: they 'ang a man on the 
 stige; oh, it mide me creep all over!" 
 
 And then she began telling Liza all about 
 it the blood and thunder, the shooting, the 
 railway train, the murder, the bomb, the hero, 
 the funny man jumbling everything up in 
 her excitement, repeating little scraps of dia- 
 logue all wrong gesticulating, getting ex- 
 cited and red in the face at the recollection. 
 Liza listened rather crossly, feeling bored at 
 the detail into which Sally was going: the piece 
 really didn't much interest her. 
 
 "One 'ud think yer'd never been to a theatre 
 in your life before," she said. 
 
 "I never seen anything so good, I can tell 
 yer. You tike my tip, and git Tom ter tike 
 yer." 
 
 "I don't want ter go ; an' if I did I'd py for 
 myself an' go alone." 
 
 "Cheese it! That ain't 'alf so good. Me 
 an* 'Arry, we set together, 'im with 'is arm 
 round my wiste and me 'oldin' 'is 'and. It 
 was jam, I can tell yer!"
 
 Liza of Lambeth 101 
 
 " i 
 
 "Well, I don't want any one sprawlin' me 
 abaht; thet ain't my mark!" 
 
 "But I do like 'Arry; you dunno the little 
 ways 'e 'as; an' we're goin' ter be married in 
 three weeks now. 'Arry said, well, 'e says, 
 'I'll git a licence.' 'Na,' says I, * 'ave the 
 banns read aht in church; it seems more reg'lar 
 like to 'ave banns ; so they're goin' ter be read 
 aht next Sunday. You'll come with me an* 
 'ear them, won't yer, Liza?" 
 
 "Yus, I don't mind." 
 
 On the way home Sally insisted on stopping 
 in front of the poster and explaining to Liza 
 all about the scene represented. 
 
 "Oh, you give me the sick with your 'Fital 
 Card/ you do! I'm goin' 'ome." And she 
 left Sally in the midst of her explanation. 
 
 "I dunno wot's up with Liza," remarked 
 Sally to a mutual friend. "She's always got 
 the needle, some'ow." 
 
 "Oh, she's barmy," answered the friend. 
 
 "Well, I do think she's a bit dotty some- 
 times I do really," rejoined Sally. 
 
 Liza walked homewards, thinking of the 
 play; at length she tossed her head impatiently.
 
 IO2 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "I don't want ter see the blasted thing; 
 an' if I see that there Jim I'll tell 'im so; swop 
 me bob, I will!" 
 
 She did see him; he was leaning with his 
 back against the wall of his house, smoking. 
 Liza knew he had seen her, and as she walked 
 by pretended not to have noticed him. To her 
 disgust, he let her pass, and she was thinking 
 he hadn't seen her after all, when she heard 
 him call her name 
 
 "Liza!" 
 
 She turned round and started with surprise 
 very well imitated. "I didn't see you was 
 there!" she said. 
 
 "Why did yer pretend not ter notice me, as 
 yer went past eh, Liza?" 
 
 "Why, I didn't see yer." 
 
 "Garn! But you ain't shirty with me?" 
 
 "Wot 'ave I got to be shirty abaht?" 
 
 He tried to take her hand, but she drew it 
 away quickly. She was getting used to the 
 movement. They went on talking, but Jim 
 did not mention the theatre; Liza was sur- 
 prised, and wondered whether he had for- 
 gotten.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 103 
 
 "Er Sally went to the ply last night," she 
 said, at last. 
 
 "Oh!" he said; and that was all. 
 
 She got impatient. 
 
 "Well, I'm off!" she said. 
 
 "Na, don't go yet ; I want ter talk ter yer," 
 he replied. 
 
 "Wot abaht? anythin' in partickler?" She 
 would drag it out of him if she possibly could. 
 
 "Not thet I knows on," he said, smiling. 
 
 "Good-night!" she said, abruptly, turning 
 away from him. 
 
 "Well, I'm damned if 'e ain't forgotten!" 
 she said to herself, sulkily, as she marched 
 home. 
 
 The following evening about six o'clock, it 
 suddenly struck her that it was the last night 
 of the "New and Sensational Drama." 
 
 "I do like thet Jim Blakeston," she said to 
 herself; "fancy treatin' me like thet! You 
 wouldn't catch Tom doin' sich a thing. Bli'me 
 
 if I speak to 'im again, the Now I sha'n't 
 
 see it at all. I've a good mind ter go on my 
 own 'ook. Fancy 'is forgettin' all abaht it, 
 like thet!"
 
 104 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 She was really quite indignant; though, as 
 she had distinctly refused Jim's offer, it was 
 rather hard to see why. 
 
 " 'E said 'e'd wite for me ahtside the doors ; 
 I wonder if 'e's there. I'll go an' see if 'e is, 
 see if I don't an' then if 'e's there, I'll go 
 in on my own 'ook, jist ter spite 'im." 
 
 She dressed herself in her best, and, so that 
 the neighbours shouldn't see her, went up a 
 passage between some model lodging-house 
 buildings, and in this roundabout way got into 
 the Westminster Bridge Road, and soon found 
 herself in front of the theatre. 
 
 "I've been witin' for yer this 'alf-hour." 
 
 She turned round and saw Jim standing just 
 behind her. 
 
 " 'Oo are you talkin' to? I'm not goin' to 
 the ply with you. Wot d'yer tike me for, 
 eh?" 
 
 ' 'Oo are yer goin' with, then?" 
 
 "I'm goin' alone." 
 
 "Garn! don't be a bloomin' jackass!" 
 
 Liza was feeling very injured. 
 
 "Thet's 'ow you treat me ! I shall go 'ome. 
 Why didn't you come aht the other night?"
 
 Liza of Lambeth 105 
 
 "Yer told me not ter." 
 
 She snorted at the ridiculous ineptitude of 
 the reply. 
 
 "Why didn't you say nothin' abaht it yes- 
 terday?" 
 
 "Why, I thought you'd come if I didn't talk 
 on it." 
 
 "Well, I think you're a - - brute!" She 
 felt very much inclined to cry. 
 
 "Come on, Liza, don't tike on; I didn't mean 
 no offence." And he put his arm round her 
 waist and led her to take their places at the 
 gallery door. Two tears escaped from the 
 corners of her eyes and ran down her nose, but 
 she felt very relieved and happy, and let him 
 lead her where he would. 
 
 There was a long string of people waiting at 
 the door, and Liza was delighted to see a couple 
 of niggers who were helping them to while 
 away the time of waiting. The niggers sang 
 and danced, and made faces, while the people 
 looked on with appreciative gravity, like roy- 
 alty listening to de Reszke, and they were very 
 generous of applause and halfpence at the end 
 of the performance. Then, when the niggers
 
 io6 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 moved to the pit doors, paper boys came along 
 offering Tit-Bits and "extra specials"; after 
 that three little girls came round and sang sen- 
 timental songs and collected more halfpence. 
 At last a movement ran through the serpent- 
 like string of people, sounds were heard be- 
 hind the door, every one closed up, the men 
 told the women to keep close and hold tight; 
 there was a great unbarring and unbolting, 
 the doors were thrown open, and, like a burst- 
 ing river, the people surged in. 
 
 Half an hour more and the curtain went up. 
 The play was indeed thrilling. Liza quite for- 
 got her companion, and was intent on the 
 scene; she watched the incidents breathlessly, 
 trembling with excitement, almost beside her- 
 self at the celebrated hanging incident. When 
 the curtain fell on the first act she sighed and 
 mopped her face. 
 
 "See 'ow 'ot I am," she said to Jim, giving 
 him her hand. 
 
 "Yus, you are!" he remarked, taking it. 
 
 "Leave go!" she said, trying to withdraw 
 it from him. 
 
 "Not much," he answered, quite boldly.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 107 
 
 "Garn! Leave go!" But he didn't, and 
 she really did not struggle very violently. 
 
 The second act came, and she shrieked over 
 the comic man; and her laughter rang higher 
 than any one else's, so that people turned to 
 look at her, and said 
 
 "She is enjoyin' 'erself." 
 
 Then when the murder came she bit her nails 
 and the sweat stood on her forehead in great 
 drops ; in her excitement she even called out as 
 loud as she could to the victim, "Look aht!" 
 It caused a laugh and slackened the tension, 
 for the whole house was holding its breath as 
 it looked at the villains listening at the door, 
 creeping silently forward, crawling like tigers 
 to their prey. 
 
 Liza trembled all over, and in her terror 
 threw herself against Jim, who put both his 
 arms round her, and said 
 
 "Don't be afride, Liza; it's all right." 
 
 At last the men sprang, there was a scuffle, 
 and the wretch was killed ; then came the scene 
 depicted on the posters the victim's son 
 knocking at the door, on the inside of which 
 were the murderers and the murdered man.
 
 io8 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 At last the curtain came down, and the house 
 in relief burst forth into cheers and cheers ; the 
 handsome hero in his top hat was greeted thun- 
 derously; the murdered man, with his clothes 
 still all disarranged, was hailed with sympa- 
 thy; and the villains the house yelled and 
 hissed and booed, while the poor brutes bowed 
 and tried to look as if they liked it. 
 
 "I am enjoyin' myself," said Liza, pressing 
 herself quite close to Jim; "you are a good 
 sort ter tike me Jim." 
 
 He gave her a little hug, and it struck her 
 that she was sitting just as Sally had done, 
 and, like Sally, she found it "jam." 
 
 The entr'actes were short and the curtain 
 was soon up again, and the comic man raised 
 customary laughter by undressing and expos- 
 ing his nether garments to the public view; 
 then more tragedy, and the final act with its 
 darkened room, its casting lots, and its ex- 
 plosion. 
 
 When it was all over and they had got out- 
 side Jim smacked his lips and said 
 
 "I could do with a gargle ; let's go into thet 
 pub there."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 109 
 
 "I'm as dry as bone," said Liza; and so they 
 went. 
 
 When they got in they discovered they were 
 hungry, and seeing some appetising sausage- 
 rolls, ate of them, and washed them down with 
 a couple of pots of beer, then Jim lit his pipe 
 and they strolled off. They had got quite 
 near the Westminster Bridge Road when Jim 
 suggested that they should go and have one 
 more drink before closing time. 
 
 "I shall be tight," said Liza. 
 
 "Thet don't matter," answered Jim, laugh- 
 ing. "You ain't got ter go ter work in the 
 mornin', an' you can sleep it aht." 
 
 "Ar right, I don't mind if I do then; in for 
 a penny, in for a pound." 
 
 At the pub door she drew back. 
 
 "I say, guv'ner," she said, "there'll be some 
 of the coves from dahn our street, and they'll 
 see us." 
 
 "Na, there won't be nobody there, don't yer 
 'ave no fear." 
 
 "I don't like ter go in for fear of it." 
 
 "Well, we ain't doin' no 'arm if they does 
 see us, an' we can go into the private bar, an*
 
 no Liza of Lambeth 
 
 you bet your boots there won't be no one 
 there." 
 
 She yielded, and they went in. 
 
 "Two pints of bitter, please miss," ordered 
 Jim. 
 
 "I say, 'old 'ard. I can't drink more than 
 'alf a pint," said Liza. 
 
 "Cheese it," answered Jim. "You can do 
 with all you can get, I know." 
 
 At closing time they left and walked down 
 the broad road which led homewards. 
 
 "Let's 'ave a little sit dahn," said Jim, point- 
 ing to an empty bench between two trees. 
 
 "Na, it's gettin' lite; I want ter be 'ome." 
 
 "It's such a fine night, it's a pity ter go in 
 already;" and he drew her unresisting towards 
 the seat. He put his arm round her waist. 
 
 "Un'and me, villin!" she said, in apt misquo- 
 tation of the melodrama; but Jim only 
 laughed, and she made no effort to disengage 
 herself. 
 
 They sat there for a long while in silence; 
 the beer had got to Liza's head, and the warm 
 night air filled her with a double intoxication. 
 She felt the arm round her waist, and the big,
 
 Liza of Lambeth in 
 
 heavy form pressing against her side; she ex- 
 perienced again the curious sensation as if her 
 heart were about to burst, and it choked her 
 a feeling so oppressive and painful that it al- 
 most made her feel sick. Her hands began 
 to tremble, and her breathing grew rapid, as 
 though she were suffocating. Almost faint- 
 ing, she swayed over towards the man, and 
 a cold shiver ran through her from top to toe. 
 Jim bent over her, and, taking her in both arms, 
 he pressed his lips to hers in a long, passionate 
 kiss. At last, panting for breath, she turned 
 her head away and groaned. 
 
 Then they again sat for a long while in si- 
 lence, Liza full of a strange happiness, feeling 
 as if she could laugh aloud hysterically, but 
 restrained by the calm and silence of the night. 
 Close behind struck a church clock one! 
 
 "Bless my soul!" said Liza, starting, 
 "there's one o'clock. I must get 'ome." 
 
 "It's so nice out 'ere; do sty, Liza." He 
 pressed her closer to him. "Yer know, Liza, 
 I love yer fit ter kill." 
 
 "Na, I can't stay; come on." She got up
 
 112 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 from the seat, and pulled him up too. "Come 
 on," she said. 
 
 Without speaking they went along, and 
 there was no one to be seen either in front or 
 behind them. He had not got his arm round 
 her now, and they were walking side by side, 
 slightly separated. It was Liza who spoke 
 first. 
 
 "You'd better go dahn the Road and by the 
 church an' git into Vere Street the other end, 
 an' I'll go through the passage, so thet no one 
 shouldn't see us comin' together;" she spoke 
 almost in a whisper. 
 
 "Arright, Liza," he answered, "I'll do just 
 as you tell me." 
 
 They came to the passage of which Liza 
 spoke; it was a narrow way between blank 
 walls, the backs of factories, and it led into 
 the upper end of Vere Street. The entrance 
 to it was guarded by two iron posts in the mid- 
 dle, so that horses or barrows should not be 
 taken through. 
 
 They had just got to it when a man came 
 out into the open road. Liza quickly turned 
 her head away.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 113 
 
 "I wonder if 'e see us," she said, when he 
 had passed out of earshot. " E's lookin' 
 back," she added. 
 
 "Why, 'oo is it?" asked Jim. 
 
 "It's a man aht of our street," she an- 
 swered. "I dunno 'im, but I know where 'e 
 lodges. D'yer think 'e see us?" 
 
 "Na, 'e wouldn't know 'oo it was in the 
 dark." 
 
 "But he looked round ; all the street'll know 
 it if he see us." 
 
 "Well, we ain't doin' no 'arm." 
 
 She stretched out her hand to say good- 
 night. 
 
 "I'll come a little wy with yer along the 
 passage," said Jim. 
 
 "Na, you mustn't; you go straight round." 
 
 "But it's so dark; p'raps summat'll 'appen 
 to yer." 
 
 "Not it! You go on 'ome an' leave me," 
 she replied, and entering the passage, stood 
 facing liim with one of the iron pillars be- 
 tween them. 
 
 "Good-night, old cock," she said, stretching 
 out her hand. He took it, and said
 
 H4 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "I wish yer wasn't goin' ter leave me, Liza." 
 
 "Garn ! I must !" She tried to get her hand 
 away from his, but he held it firm, resting it 
 on the top of the pillar. 
 
 "Leave go my 'and," she said. He made 
 no movement, but looked into her eyes stead- 
 ily, so that it made her uneasy. She repented 
 having come out with him. "Leave go my 
 'and." And she beat down on his with her 
 closed fist. 
 
 "Liza!" he said, at last. 
 
 "Well, wot is it?" she answered, still thump- 
 ing down on his hand with her fist. 
 
 "Liza," he said, in a whisper, "will yer?" 
 
 "Will I wot?" she said, looking down. 
 
 "You know, Liza. Sy, will yer?" 
 
 "Na," she said. 
 
 He bent over her and repeated 
 
 "Will yer?" 
 
 She did not speak, but kept beating down 
 on his hand. 
 
 "Liza," he said again, his voice growing 
 hoarse and thick "Liza, will yer?" 
 
 She still kept silence, looking away and con- 
 tinually bringing down her fist. He looked
 
 Liza of Lambeth 115 
 
 at her a moment, and she, ceasing to thump 
 his hand, looked up at him with half -opened 
 mouth. Suddenly he shook himself, and clos- 
 ing his fist gave her a violent, swinging blow 
 in the stomach. 
 
 "Come on," he said. 
 
 And together they slid down into the dark- 
 ness of the passage.
 
 Chapter Eight 
 
 MRS. KEMP was in the habit of slum- 
 bering somewhat heavily on Sunday 
 mornings, or Liza would not have been allowed 
 to go on sleeping as she did. When she woke 
 she rubbed her eyes to gather her senses to- 
 gether, and gradually she remembered having 
 gone to the theatre on the previous evening; 
 then suddenly everything came back to her. 
 She stretched out her legs and gave a long sigh 
 of delight. Her heart was full; she thought 
 of Jim, and the delicious sensation of love 
 came over her. Closing her eyes, she imag- 
 ined his warm kisses, and she lifted up her arms 
 as if to put them round his neck and draw him 
 down to her; she almost felt the rough beard 
 on her face, and the strong, heavy arms round 
 her body. She smiled to herself and took a 
 long breath; then, slipping back the sleeves 
 of her nightdress, she looked at her own thin 
 arms, just two pieces of bone with not a mus- 
 
 117
 
 n8 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 cle on them, but very white and showing dis- 
 tinctly the interlacement of blue veins ; she did 
 not notice that her hands were rough, and red 
 and dirty with the nails broken, and bitten 
 to the quick. She got out of bed and looked 
 at herself in the glass over the mantelpiece; 
 with one hand she brushed back her hair and 
 smiled at herself; her face was very small and 
 thin, but the complexion was nice, clear and 
 white, with a delicate tint of red on the cheeks, 
 and her eyes were big and dark like her hair. 
 She felt very happy. 
 
 She did not want to dress yet, but rather to 
 sit down and think, so she twisted up her hair 
 into a little knot, slipped a skirt over her night- 
 dress, and sat on a chair near the window and 
 began looking around. The decorations of 
 the room had been centred on the mantelpiece ; 
 the chief ornament consisted of a pear and an 
 apple, a pine-apple, a bunch of grapes, and 
 several fat plums, all very beautifully done in 
 wax, as was the fashion about the middle of 
 this most glorious reign. They were appro- 
 priately coloured the apple blushing red, the 
 grapes an inky black, emerald green leaves
 
 Liza of Lambeth 119 
 
 were scattered here and there to lend finish, 
 and the whole was mounted on an ebonised 
 stand covered with black velvet, and protected 
 from dust and dirt by a beautiful glass cover 
 bordered with red plush. Liza's eyes rested 
 on this with approbation, and the pineapple 
 quite made her mouth water. At either end 
 of the mantelpiece were pink jars with blue 
 flowers on the front; round the top in Gothic 
 letters of gold was inscribed: "A Present from 
 a Friend" these were products of a later, 
 but not less artistic age. The intervening 
 spaces were taken up with little jars and cups 
 and saucers gold inside, with a view of a town 
 outside, and surrounding them, "A Present 
 from Clacton-on-Sea," or, alliteratively, "A 
 Memento of Margate." Of these many were 
 broken, but they had been mended with glue, 
 and it is well known that pottery in the eyes 
 of the connoisseur loses none of its value by a 
 crack or two. Then there were portraits in- 
 numerable little yellow cartes-de-visite in vel- 
 vet frames, some of which were decorated with 
 shells; they showed strange people with old- 
 fashioned clothes, the women with bodices and
 
 I2O Liza of Lambeth 
 
 sleeves fitting close to the figure, stern-fea- 
 tured females with hair carefully parted in the 
 middle and plastered down on each side, firm 
 chins and mouths, with small, pig-like eyes and 
 wrinkled faces, and the men were uncomfort- 
 ably clad in Sunday garments, very stiff and 
 uneasy in their awkward postures, with large 
 whiskers and shaved chins and upper lips and 
 a general air of horny-handed toil. Then 
 there were one or two daguerreotypes, little 
 full-length figures framed in gold paper. 
 There was one of Mrs. Kemp's father and one 
 of her mother, and there were several photo- 
 graphs of betrothed or newly-married couples, 
 the lady sitting down and the man standing 
 behind her with his hand on the chair, or the 
 man sitting and the woman with her hand on 
 his shoulder. And from all sides of the room, 
 standing on the mantelpiece, hanging above it, 
 on the wall and over the bed, they stared full- 
 face into the room, self-consciously fixed for 
 ever in their stiff discomfort. 
 
 The walls were covered with dingy, anti- 
 quated paper, and ornamented with coloured 
 supplements from Christmas Numbers there
 
 Liza of Lambeth 121 
 
 was a very patriotic picture of a soldier shak- 
 ing the hand of a fallen comrade and waving 
 his arm in defiance of a band of advancing 
 Arabs; there was a "Cherry Ripe," almost 
 black with age and dirt; there were two al- 
 manacks several years old, one with a coloured 
 portrait of the Marquess of Lome, very hand- 
 some and elegantly dressed, the object of Mrs. 
 Kemp's adoration since her husband's demise ; 
 the other a Jubilee portrait of the Queen, 
 somewhat losing in dignity by a moustache 
 which Liza in an irreverent moment had 
 smeared on with charcoal. 
 
 The furniture consisted of a wash-hand 
 stand and a little deal chest of drawers, which 
 acted as sideboard to such pots and pans and 
 crockery as could not find room in the grate; 
 and besides the bed there was nothing but two 
 kitchen chairs and a lamp. Liza looked at it 
 all and felt perfectly satisfied; she put a pin 
 into one corner of the noble Marquess to pre- 
 vent him from falling, fiddled about with the 
 ornaments a little, and then started washing 
 herself. After putting on her clothes she ate
 
 122 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 some bread-and-butter, swallowed a dishful of 
 cold tea, and went out into the street. 
 
 She saw some boys playing cricket and went 
 up to them. 
 
 "Let me ply," she said. 
 
 "Arright, Liza," cried half a dozen of them 
 in delight; and the captain added, "You go an' 
 scout over by the lamp -post." 
 
 "Go an' scout my eye!" said Liza, indig- 
 nantly. "When I ply cricket I does the bat- 
 tin'." 
 
 "Na, you're not goin' ter bat all the time. 
 'Oo are you gettin' at?" replied the captain, 
 who had taken advantage of his position to 
 put himself in first, and was still at the wicket. 
 
 "Well, then I sha'n't ply," answered Liza. 
 
 "Garn, Ernie, let 'er go in!" shouted two 
 or three members of the team. 
 
 "Well, I'm busted!" remarked the captain, 
 as she took his bat. "You won't sty in long, 
 I lay," he said, as he sent the old bowler field- 
 ing and took the ball himself. He was a 
 young gentleman who did not suffer from ex- 
 cessive backwardness. 
 
 "Aht!" shouted a dozen voices as the ball
 
 Liza of Lambeth 123 
 
 went past Liza's bat and landed in the pile of 
 coats which formed the wicket. The captain 
 came forward to resume his innings, but Liza 
 held the bat away from him. 
 
 "Garn!" she said; "thet was only a trial." 
 
 "You never said trial," answered the cap- 
 tain, indignantly. 
 
 "Yus, I did," said Liza; "I said it just as 
 the ball was comin' under my breath." 
 
 "Well, I am busted!" repeated the captain. 
 
 Just then Liza saw Tom among the lookers- 
 on, and as she felt very kindly disposed to the 
 world in general that morning, she called out 
 to him 
 
 " 'Ulloa, Tom!" she said. "Come an' give 
 us a ball; this chap can't bowl." 
 
 "Well, I got yer aht, any'ow," said that 
 person. 
 
 "Ah, yer wouldn't 'ave got me aht plyin' 
 square. But a trial ball well, one don't ever 
 know wot a trial ball's goin' ter do." 
 
 Tom began bowling very slowly and easily, 
 so that Liza could swing her bat round and 
 hit mightily; she ran well, too, and pantingly
 
 124 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 brought up her score to twenty. Then the 
 fielders interposed. 
 
 "I sy, look 'ere, 'e's only givin' 'er lobs; 
 Vs not tryin' ter git 'er aht." 
 
 "You're spoilin' our gime." 
 
 "I don't care; I've got twenty runs thet's 
 more than you could do. I'll go aht now of 
 my own accord, so there! Come on, Tom." 
 
 Tom joined her, and as the captain at last 
 resumed his bat and the game went on, they 
 commenced talking, Liza leaning against the 
 wall of a house, while Tom stood in front of 
 her, smiling with pleasure. 
 
 "Where 'ave you been 'idin' yerself, Tom? 
 I ain't seen yer for I dunno 'ow long." 
 
 "I've been abaht as usual; an' I've seen you 
 when you didn't see me." 
 
 "Well, yer might 'ave come up and said 
 good mornin' when you see me." 
 
 "I didn't want ter force myself on yer, 
 Liza." 
 
 "Gam! You are a bloomin' cuckoo, I'm 
 blowed!" 
 
 "I thought yer didn't like me 'angin' round 
 yer; so I kep' awy."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 125 
 
 "Why, yer talks as if I didn't like yer. Yer 
 don't think I'd 'ave come aht beanfeastin' with 
 yer if I 'adn't liked yer?" 
 
 Liza was really very dishonest, but she felt 
 so happy this morning that she loved the whole 
 
 world, and of course Tom came in with the 
 others. She looked very kindly at him, and 
 he was so affected that a great lump came in 
 his throat and he could not speak. 
 
 Liza's eyes turned to Jim's house, and she 
 saw coming out of the door a girl of about 
 her own age; she fancied she saw in her some 
 likeness to Jim. 
 
 "Say, Tom," she asked, "thet ain't Blake- 
 ston's daughter, is it?" 
 
 "Yus, thet's it." 
 
 "I'll go an' speak to 'er," said Liza, leav- 
 ing Tom and going over the road. 
 
 "You're Polly Blakeston, ain't yer?" she 
 said. 
 
 "Thet's me!" said the girl. 
 
 "I thought you was. Your dad, 'e says ter 
 me, 'You dunno my daughter, Polly, do yer?' 
 says 'e. 'Na,' says I, 'I don't.' 'Well,' says
 
 126 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 'e, 'You can't miss 'er when you see 'er.' An' 
 right enough I didn't." 
 
 "Mother says I'm all father, an' there ain't 
 no thin' of 'er in me. Dad says it's lucky it 
 ain't the other wy abaht, or 'e'd 'ave got a di- 
 vorce." 
 
 They both laughed. 
 
 "Where are you goin' now?" asked Liza, 
 looking at the slop-basin she was carrying. 
 
 "I was just goin' dahn into the Road ter 
 get some ice-cream for dinner. Father 'ad a 
 bit of luck last night, 'e says, and 'e'd stand 
 the lot of us ice-cream for dinner ter-day." 
 
 "I'll come with yer if yer like." 
 
 "Come on!" And, already friends, they 
 walked arm in arm to the Westminster Bridge 
 Road. Then they went along till they came 
 to a stall where an Italian was selling the re- 
 quired commodity, and having had a taste 
 apiece to see if they liked it, Polly planked 
 down sixpence and had her basin filled with a 
 poisonous-looking mixture of red and white ice- 
 cream. 
 
 On the way back, looking up the street, 
 Polly cried
 
 Liza of Lambeth 127 
 
 "There's father!" 
 
 Liza's heat beat rapidly and she turned 
 red; but suddenly a sense of shame came over 
 her, and casting down her head so that she 
 might not see him, she said 
 
 "I think I'll be off 'ome an' see 'ow moth- 
 er's gettin' on." And before Polly could say 
 anything she had slipped away and entered her 
 own house. 
 
 Mother was not getting on at all well. 
 
 "You've come in at last, you , you!" 
 
 snarled Mrs. Kemp, as Liza entered the room. 
 
 "Wot's the matter, mother?" 
 
 "Matter! I like thet matter indeed! Go 
 an' matter yerself an' be mattered ! Nice way 
 ter treat an old woman like me an' yer own 
 mother, too!" 
 
 "Wot's up now?" 
 
 "Don't talk ter me; I don't want ter listen 
 ter you. Leavin' me all alone, me with my 
 rheumatics, an' the neuralgy! I've 'ad the 
 neuralgy all the mornin', and my 'ead's been 
 simply splittin', so thet I thought the bones 
 'ud come apart and all my brains go streamin' 
 on the floor. An' when I wake up there's no
 
 128 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 one ter git my tea for me, an' I lay there witin' 
 an' witin', an' at last I 'ad ter git up and mike 
 it myself. An' my 'ead simply cruel! Why, 
 I might 'ave been burnt ter death with the 
 fire alight an' me asleep." 
 
 "Well, I am sorry, mother; but I went aht 
 just for a bit, an' didn't think you'd wike. 
 An' besides, the fire wasn't alight." 
 
 "Garn with yer! I didn't treat my mother 
 like thet. Oh, you've been a bad daughter ter 
 me an' I 'ad more illness carryin' you than 
 with all the other children put togither. You 
 was a cross at yer birth, an' you've been a cross 
 ever since. An' now in my old age, when I've 
 worked myself ter the bone, yer leaves me to 
 starve and burn ter death." Here she began 
 to cry, and the rest of her utterances was lost 
 in sobs. 
 
 The dusk had darkened into night, and Mrs. 
 Kemp had retired to rest with the dicky-birds. 
 Liza was thinking of many things; she won- 
 dered why she had been unwilling to meet Jim 
 in the morning. 
 
 "I was a bally fool," she said to herself.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 129 
 
 It really seemed an age since the previous 
 night, and all that had happened seemed very 
 long ago. She had not spoken to Jim all day, 
 and she had so much to say to him. Then, 
 wondering whether he was about, she went to 
 the window and looked out ; but there was no- 
 body there. She closed the window again and 
 sat just beside it; the time went on, and she 
 wondered whether he would come, asking her- 
 self whether he had been thinking of her as 
 she of him; gradually her thoughts grew 
 vague, and a kind of mist came over them. 
 She nodded. Suddenly she roused herself 
 with a start, fancying she had heard some- 
 thing ; she listened again, and in a moment the 
 sound was repeated, three or four gentle taps 
 on the window. She opened it quickly and 
 whispered 
 
 "Jim." 
 
 "Thet's me," he answered; "come aht." 
 
 Closing the window, she went into the pas- 
 sage and opened the street door ; it was hardly 
 unlocked before Jim had pushed his way in; 
 partly shutting it behind him, he took her in
 
 130 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 his arms and hugged her to his breast. She 
 kissed him passionately. 
 
 "I thought yer'd come ter-night, Jim; 
 summat in my 'eart told me so. But you 'ave 
 been long." 
 
 "I wouldn't come before, 'cause I thought 
 there'd be people abaht. Kiss us!" And 
 again he pressed his lips to hers, and Liza 
 nearly fainted with the delight of it. 
 
 "Let's go for a walk, shall we?" he said. 
 
 "Arright!" They were speaking in whis- 
 pers. "You go into the Road through the 
 passage, an' I'll go by the street." 
 
 "Yus, thet's right," and kissing her once 
 more, he slid out, and she closed the door be- 
 hind him. 
 
 Then going back to get her hat, she came 
 again into the passage, waiting behind the door 
 till it might be safe for her to venture. She 
 had not made up her mind to risk it, when she 
 heard a key put in the lock, and she hardly 
 had time to spring back to prevent herself 
 from being hit by the opening door. It was 
 a man, one of the upstairs lodgers. 
 
 " 'Ulloa!" he said, " 'oo's there?"
 
 Liza of Lambeth 131 
 
 "Mr. 'Odges! Strike me, you did give me 
 a turn; I was just goin' aht." She blushed to 
 her hair, but in the darkness he could see noth- 
 ing. 
 
 "Good-night," she said, and went out. 
 
 She walked close along the sides of the 
 houses like a thief, and the policeman as she 
 passed him turned round and looked at her, 
 wondering whether she was meditating some 
 illegal deed. She breathed freely on coming 
 into the open road, and seeing Jim skulking 
 behind a tree, ran up to him, and in the shad- 
 ows they kissed again.
 
 'Chapter Nine 
 
 THUS began a time of love and joy. As 
 soon as her work was over and she had 
 finished tea, Liza would slip out and at some 
 appointed spot meet Jim. Usually it would 
 be at the church, where the Westminster 
 Bridge Road bends down to get to the river; 
 and they would go off, arm in arm, till they 
 came to some place where they could sit down 
 and rest. Sometimes they would walk along 
 the Albert Embankment to Battersea Park, 
 and here sit on the benches, watching the chil- 
 dren play. The female cyclist had almost 
 abandoned Battersea for the parks on the other 
 side of the river, but often enough one went 
 by, and Liza, with the old-fashioned prejudice 
 of her class, would look after the rider and 
 make some remark about her, not seldom more 
 forcible than ladylike. Both Jim and she 
 liked children, and tiny, ragged urchins would 
 gather round to have rides on the man's knees 
 or mock fights with Liza. 
 
 133
 
 134 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 They thought themselves far away from any 
 one in Vere Street, but twice, as they were 
 walking along, they were met by people they 
 knew. Once it was two workmen coming 
 home from a job at Vauxhall: Liza did not 
 see them till they were quite near; she imme- 
 diately dropped Jim's arm, and they both cast 
 their eyes to the ground as the men passed, like 
 ostriches, expecting that if they did not look 
 they would not be seen. 
 
 "D'you see 'em, Jim?" asked Liza, in a whis- 
 per, when they had gone by. "I wonder if 
 they see us." Almost instinctively she turned 
 round, and at the same moment one of the 
 men turned too; then there was no doubt 
 about it. 
 
 "Thet did give me a turn," she said. 
 
 "So it did me," answered Jim; "I simply 
 went 'ot all over." 
 
 "We was bally fools," said Liza; "we 
 oughter 'ave spoken to 'em! D'you think 
 they'll let aht?" 
 
 They heard nothing of it; when Jim after- 
 wards met one of the men in a public-house 
 he did not mention a meeting, and they thought
 
 Liza of Lambeth 135 
 
 that perhaps they had not been recognised. 
 But the second time was worse. 
 
 It was on the Albert Embankment again. 
 They were met by a party of four, all of whom 
 lived in the street. Liza's heart sank within 
 her, for there was no chance of escape; she 
 thought of turning quickly and walking in the 
 opposite direction, but there was not time, for 
 the men had already seen them. She whis- 
 pered to Jim 
 
 "Back us up," and as they met she said to 
 one of the men, " 'Ulloa there! where are you 
 
 off tor 
 
 The men stopped, and one of them asked 
 the question back. 
 
 "Where are you off to?" 
 
 "Me? Oh, I've just been to the 'orspital. 
 One of the gals at our plice is queer, an' so 
 I says ter myself, 'I'll go an' see 'er.' ' She 
 faltered a little as she began, but quickly gath- 
 ered herself together, lying fluently and with- 
 out hesitation. 
 
 "An' when I come aht," she went on, " 'oo 
 should I see just passin' the 'orspital but this 
 'ere cove, an' 'e says to me, * 'Wot cheer,' says
 
 136 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 'e, 'I'm goin' ter Vaux'all, come an' walk a 
 bit of the wy with us.' 'Arright,' says I, 'I 
 don't mind if I do.' " 
 
 One man winked, and another said, "Go 
 it, Liza!" 
 
 She fired up with the dignity of outraged in- 
 nocence. 
 
 "Wot d'yer mean by thet?" she said; "d'yer 
 think I'm kiddin'?" 
 
 "Kiddin'? no! You've only just come up 
 from the country, ain't yer?" 
 
 "Think I'm kiddin'? Wot d'yer think I 
 want ter kid for ? Liars never believe any one, 
 thet's fact." 
 
 "Na then, Liza, don't be saucy." 
 
 "Saucy! I'll smack yer in the eye if yer 
 sy much ter me. Come on," she said to Jim, 
 who had been standing sheepishly by; and they 
 walked away. 
 
 The men shouted, "Now we sha'n't be long!" 
 and went off laughing. 
 
 After that they decided to go where there 
 was no chance at all of their being seen. They 
 did not meet till they got over Westminster 
 Bridge, and thence they made their way into
 
 Liza of Lambeth 137 
 
 the Park ; they would lie down on the grass in 
 one another's arms, and thus spend the long 
 summer evenings. After the heat of the day 
 there would be a gentle breeze in the Park, 
 and they would take in long breaths of the 
 air; it seemed far away from London, it was 
 so quiet and cool ; and Liza, as she lay by Jim's 
 side, felt her love for him overflowing to the 
 rest of the world and enveloping mankind it- 
 self in a kind of grateful happiness. If it 
 could only have lasted ! They would stay and 
 see the stars shine out dimly, one by one, from 
 the blue sky, till it grew late and the blue dark- 
 ened into black, and the stars glittered on 
 thousands all above them. But as the nights 
 grew cooler, they found it cold on the grass, 
 and the time they had there seemed too short 
 for the long journey they had to make; so, 
 crossing the Bridge as before, they strolled 
 along the Embankment till they came to a va- 
 cant bench, and there they would sit, with Liza 
 nestling close up to her lover and his great 
 arms around her. The rain of September 
 made no difference to them ; they went as usual 
 to their seat beneath the trees, and Jim would
 
 138 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 take Liza on his knee, and, opening his coat, 
 shelter her with it, while she, with her arms 
 round his neck, pressed very close to him, and 
 occasionally gave a little laugh of pleasure and 
 delight. They hardly spoke at all through 
 these evenings, for what had they to say to 
 one another? Often without exchanging a 
 word, they would sit for an hour with their 
 faces touching, the one feeling on his cheek the 
 hot breath from the other's mouth; while at 
 the end of the time the only motion was an up- 
 raising of Liza's lips, a bending down of Jim's, 
 so that they might meet and kiss. Sometimes 
 Liza fell into a light doze, and Jim would sit 
 very still for fear of waking her, and when she 
 roused herself she would smile, while he bent 
 down again and kissed her. They were very 
 happy. But the hours passed by so quickly, 
 that Big Ben striking twelve came upon them 
 as a surprise, and unwillingly they got up and 
 made their way homewards; their partings 
 were never-ending each evening Jim refused 
 to let her go from his arms, and tears stood 
 in his eyes at the thought of the separation.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 139 
 
 "I'd give somethin'," he would say, "if we 
 could be togither always." 
 
 "Never mind, old chap!" Liza would an- 
 swer, herself half crying, "it can't be 'elped, so 
 we must jolly well lump it." 
 
 But notwithstanding all their precautions 
 people in Vere Street appeared to know. 
 First of all Liza noticed that the women did 
 not seem quite so cordial as before, and she 
 often fancied they were talking of her; when 
 she passed by they appeared to look at her, 
 then say something or other, and perhaps burst 
 out laughing; but when she approached they 
 would immediately stop speaking, and keep si- 
 lence in a rather awkward, constrained man- 
 ner. For a long time she was unwilling to be- 
 lieve that there was any change in them, and 
 Jim, who had observed nothing, persuaded her 
 that it was all fancy. But gradually it became 
 clearer, and Jim had to agree with her that 
 somehow or other people had found out. Once 
 when Liza had been talking to Polly, Jim's 
 daughter, Mrs. Blakeston had called her, and 
 when the girl had come to her mother Liza saw 
 that she spoke angrily, and they both looked
 
 140 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 across at her. When Liza caught Mrs. 
 Blakeston's eye she saw in her face a surly 
 scowl, which almost frightened her ; she wanted 
 to brave it out, and stepped forward a little 
 to go and speak with the woman, but Mrs. 
 Blakeston, standing still, looked so angrily at 
 her that she was afraid to. When she told 
 Jim his face grew dark, and he said, "Blast 
 the woman! I'll give 'er wot for if she says 
 anythin' ter you." 
 
 "Don't strike 'er, wotever 'appens, will yer, 
 Jim?" said Liza. 
 
 "She'd better tike care then!" he answered, 
 and he told her that lately his wife had been 
 sulking, and not speaking to him. The pre- 
 vious night, on coming home after his day's 
 work and bidding her "good evenin'," she had 
 turned her back on him without answering. 
 
 "Can't you answer when you're spoke to?" 
 he had said. 
 
 "Good evenin'," she had replied, sulkily, 
 with her back still turned. 
 
 After that Liza noticed that Polly avoided 
 her. 
 
 "Wot's up, Polly?" she said to her one day.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 14* 
 
 "You never speaks now; 'ave you 'ad yer 
 tongue cut aht?" 
 
 "Me? I ain't got nothin' ter speak abaht, 
 thet I knows of," answered Polly, abruptly 
 walking off. Liza grew very red and quickly 
 looked to see if any one had noticed the inci- 
 dent. A couple of youths, sitting on the pave- 
 ment, had seen it, and she saw them nudge one 
 another and wink. 
 
 Then the fellows about the street began to 
 chaff her. 
 
 "You look pale," said one of a group to her 
 one day. 
 
 "You're overworkin' yerself, you are," said 
 another. 
 
 "Married life don't agree with Liza, thet's 
 wot it is," added a third. 
 
 " 'Oo d'yer think yer gettin' at? I ain't 
 married, an' never like ter be," she answered. 
 
 "Liza 'as all the pleasures of a 'usband an* 
 none of the trouble." 
 
 "Bli'me if I know wot yer mean!" said Liza. 
 
 "Na, of course not ; you don't know nothin', 
 do yer?"
 
 142 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Innocent as a bibe. Our Father which art 
 in 'eaven!" 
 
 ' 'Aven't been in London long, 'ave yer?" 
 
 They spoke in chorus, and Liza stood in 
 front of them, bewildered, not knowing what 
 to answer. 
 
 "Don't you mike no mistike abaht it, Liza 
 knows a thing or two." 
 
 "O me darlin', I love yer fit to kill, but tike 
 care your missus ain't round the corner." This 
 was particularly bold, and they all laughed. 
 
 Liza felt very uncomfortable, and fiddled 
 about with her apron, wondering how she 
 should get away. 
 
 "Tike care yer don't git into trouble, thet's 
 all," said one of the men, with burlesque grav- 
 ity. 
 
 "Yer might give us a chanst, Liza ; you come 
 aht with me one evenin'. You oughter give 
 us all a turn, jist ter show there's no ill-feelin'." 
 
 "Bli'me if I know wot yer all talkin' abaht. 
 You're all barmy on the crumpet," said Liza, 
 indignantly, and, turning her back on them, 
 made for home. 
 
 Among other things that had happened was
 
 Liza of Lambeth 143 
 
 Sally's marriage. One Saturday a little pro- 
 cession had started from Vere Street, consist- 
 ing of Sally, in a state of giggling excitement, 
 her fringe magnificent after a whole week of 
 curling-papers, clad in a perfectly new vel- 
 veteen dress of the colour known as electric 
 blue ; and Harry, rather nervous and ill at ease 
 in the unaccustomed restraint of a collar ; these 
 two walked arm in arm and were followed by 
 Sally's mother and uncle, also arm in arm, 
 and the procession was brought up by Harry's 
 brother and a friend. They started with a 
 flourish of trumpets and an old boot, and 
 walked down the middle of Vere Street, ac- 
 companied by the neighbours' good wishes ; but 
 as they got into the Westminster Bridge Road 
 and nearer to the church, the happy couple 
 grew silent, and Harry began to perspire 
 freely, so that his collar gave him perfect tor- 
 ture. There was a public-house just opposite 
 the church and it was suggested that they 
 should have a drink before going in. As it 
 was a solemn occasion they went into the pri- 
 vate bar, and there Sally's uncle, who was a 
 man of means, ordered six pots of beer.
 
 144 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Feel a bit nervous, 'Arry?" asked his 
 friend. 
 
 "Na," said Harry, as if he had been used to 
 getting married every day of his life; "bit 
 warm, thet's all." 
 
 "Your very good 'ealth, Sally," said her 
 mother, lifting her mug; "this is the last time 
 as I shall ever address you as Miss." 
 
 "An' may she be as good a wife as you was," 
 added Sally's uncle. 
 
 "Well, I don't think my old man ever 'ad 
 no complaint ter mike abaht me. I did my 
 duty by 'im, although it's me as says it," 
 answered the good lady. 
 
 "Well, mates," said Harry's brother, "I 
 reckon it's abaht time to go in. So 'ere's to the 
 'ealth of Mr. 'Enry Atkins, an' 'is future 
 
 missus." 
 
 "An' God bless 'em!" said Sally's mother. 
 
 Then they went into the church, and as they 
 solemnly walked up the aisle a pale-faced 
 young curate came out of the vestry and down 
 to the bottom of the chancel. The beer had had 
 a calming effect on their troubled minds, and 
 both Harry and Sally began to think it rather
 
 Liza of Lambeth 145 
 
 a good joke. They smiled on each other, and 
 at those parts of the service which they thought 
 suggestive violently nudged one another in the 
 ribs. When the ring had to be produced, 
 Harry fumbled about in different pockets, and 
 his brother whispered: 
 
 "Swop me bob, 'e's gone and lorst it!" 
 However, all went right, and Sally having 
 carefully pocketed the certificate, they went 
 out and had another drink to celebrate the 
 happy event. 
 
 In the evening Liza and several friends came 
 into the couple's room, which they had taken 
 in the same house as Sally had lived in before, 
 and drank the health of the bride and bride- 
 groom till they thought fit to retire.
 
 Chapter Ten 
 
 IT was November. The fine weather had 
 quite gone now, and with it much of the 
 sweet pleasure of Jim and Liza's love. When 
 they came out at night on the Embankment 
 they found it cold and dreary; sometimes a 
 light fog covered the river-banks, and made the 
 lamps glow out dim and large; a light rain 
 would be falling, which sent a chill into their 
 very souls ; foot passengers came along at rare 
 intervals, holding up umbrellas, and staring 
 straight in front of them as they hurried along 
 in the damp and cold ; a cab would pass rapidly 
 by, splashing up the mud on each side. The 
 benches were deserted, except, perhaps, for 
 some poor homeless wretch who could afford no 
 shelter, and, huddled up in a corner, with his 
 head buried in his breast, was sleeping heavily, 
 like a dead man. The wet mud made Liza's 
 skirts cling about her feet, and the damp would 
 come in and chill her legs and creep up her 
 
 147
 
 148 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 body, till she shivered, and for warmth pressed 
 herself close against Jim. Sometimes they 
 would go into the third-class waiting-rooms at 
 Waterloo or Charing Cross and sit there, but 
 it was not like the Park or the Embankment 
 on summer nights; they had warmth, but the 
 heat made their wet clothes steam and smell, 
 and the gas flared in their eyes, and they hated 
 the people perpetually coming in and out, 
 opening the doors and letting in a blast of cold 
 air; they hated the noise of the guards and 
 porters shouting out the departure of the 
 trains, the shrill whistling of the steam-engine, 
 the hurry and bustle and confusion. About 
 eleven o'clock, when the trains grew less fre- 
 quent, they got some quietness ; but then their 
 minds were troubled, and they felt heavy, sad, 
 and miserable. 
 
 One evening they had been sitting at Water- 
 loo Station; it was foggy outside a thick, yel- 
 low November fog, which filled the waiting- 
 room, entering the lungs, and making the 
 mouth taste nasty and the eyes smart. It was 
 about half-past eleven, and the station was un- 
 usually quiet; a few passengers, in wraps and
 
 Liza of Lambeth 149 
 
 overcoats, were walking to and fro, waiting for 
 the last train, and one or two porters were 
 standing about yawning. Liza aud Jim had 
 remained for an hour in perfect silence, filled 
 with a gloomy unhappiness, as of a great 
 weight on their brains. Liza was sitting for- 
 ward, with her elbows on her knees, resting her 
 face on her hands. 
 
 "I wish I was straight," she said at last, 
 not looking up. 
 
 "Well, why won't yer come along of me 
 altogether, an,' youll be arright jthen?" he 
 answered. 
 
 "Na, that's no go; I can't do thet." He 
 had often asked her to live with him entirely, 
 but she had always refused. 
 
 "You can come along of me, an' I'll tike 
 a room in a lodgin' 'ouse in 'Olloway, an' we 
 can live there as if we was married." 
 
 "Wot abaht yer work?" 
 
 "I can get work over the other side as well 
 as I can 'ere. I'm abaht sick of the wy things 
 is goin' on." 
 
 "So am I ; but I can't leave mother." 
 
 "She can come too."
 
 150 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Not when I'm not married. I shouldn't 
 like 'er ter know as I'd as I'd gone wrong." 
 
 "Well, I'll marry yer. Swop me bob, I 
 wants ter badly enough." 
 
 "Yer can't; yer married already." 
 
 "Thet don't matter! If I give the missus 
 so much a week aht of my screw, she'll sign a 
 piper ter give up all clime ter me, an' then we 
 can get spliced. One of the men as I works 
 with done thet, an' it was arright." 
 
 Liza shook her head. 
 
 "Na, yer can't do thet now; it's bigamy; an' 
 the cop tikes yer, an' yer gits twelve months' 
 'ard for it." 
 
 "But swop me bob, Liza, I can't go on like 
 this. Yer knows the missus well, there ain't 
 no bloomin' doubt abaht it, she knows as you 
 an' me are carryin' on, an' she mikes no bones 
 abaht lettin' me see it." 
 
 "She don't do thet?" 
 
 "Well, she don't exactly sy it, but she sulks 
 an' won't speak, an' then when I says any thin' 
 she rounds on me an' calls me all the nimes she 
 can think of. I'd give 'er a good 'idin', but 
 some'ow I don't like ter ! She mikes the plice
 
 Liza of Lambeth 151 
 
 a 'ell ter me, an' I'm not goin' ter stand it no 
 longer!" 
 
 "You'll 'ave ter sit it, then; yer can't chuck 
 it." 
 
 "Yus I can, an' I would if you'd come along 
 of me. I don't believe you like me at all, Liza, 
 or you'd come." 
 
 She turned towards him and put her arms 
 round his neck. 
 
 "Yer know I do, old cock," she said. "I 
 like yer better than any one else in the world ; 
 but I can't go awy an' leave mother." 
 
 "Bli'me me if I see why; she's never been 
 much ter you. She mikes yer slave awy ter pay 
 the rent, an' all the money she earns she 
 boozes." 
 
 "Thet's true, she ain't been wot yer might 
 call a good mother ter me but some'ow she's 
 my mother, an' I don't like ter leave 'er on 'er 
 own, now she's so old an' she can't do much 
 with the rheumatics. An' besides, Jim dear, 
 it ain't only mother, but there's yer own kids, 
 yer can't leave them." 
 
 He thought for a while, and then said : 
 
 "You're abaht right there, Liza; I dunno if
 
 152 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 I could get on without the kids. If I could 
 only tike them an' you too, swop me bob, I 
 should be 'appy." 
 
 Liza smiled sadly. 
 
 "So yer see, Jim, we're in a bloomin' 'ole, an' 
 there ain't no way aht of it thet I can see." 
 
 He took her on his knees, and pressing her 
 to him, kissed her very long and very lovingly. 
 
 "Well, we must trust ter luck," she said 
 again, "p'raps somethin' '11 'appen soon, an' 
 everythin' '11 come right in the end when we 
 gets four balls of worsted for a penny." 
 
 It was past twelve, and separating, they 
 went by different ways along the dreary, wet, 
 deserted roads till they came to Vere Street. 
 
 The street seemed quite different to Liza 
 from what it had been three months before. 
 Tom, the humble adorer, had quite disappeared 
 from her life. One day, three or four weeks 
 after the August Bank Holiday, she saw him 
 dawdling along the pavement, and it suddenly 
 struck her that she had not seen him for a long 
 time ; but she had been so full of her happiness 
 that she had been unable to think of any one 
 but Jim. She wondered at his absence, since
 
 Liza of Lambeth 153 
 
 before wherever she had been there was he 
 certain to be also. She passed him, but to her 
 astonishment he did not speak to her. She 
 thought by some wonder he had not seen her, 
 but she felt his gaze resting upon her. She 
 turned back, and suddenly he dropped his eyes 
 and looked down, walking on as if he had not 
 seen her, but blushing furiously. 
 
 "Tom," she said, "why don't yer speak ter 
 me?" 
 
 He started and blushed more than ever. 
 
 "I didn't know yer was there," he stuttered. 
 
 "Don't tell me," she said; "wot's up?" 
 
 "Nothin' as I knows of," he answered, un- 
 easily. 
 
 "I ain't offended yer, 'ave I, Tom?" 
 
 "Na, not as I knows of," he replied, looking 
 very unhappy. 
 
 "You don't ever come my way now," she 
 said. 
 
 "I didn't know as yer wanted ter see me." 
 
 "Garn! Yer knows I likes you as well as 
 anybody." 
 
 "Yer likes so many people, Liza," he said, 
 flushing.
 
 154 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "What d'yer mean?" said Liza, indignantly, 
 but very red ; she was afraid he knew now, and 
 it was from him especially she would have been 
 so glad to hide it. 
 
 "Nothin'," he answered. 
 
 "One doesn't say things like thet without 
 any meanin', unless one's a blimed fool." 
 
 "You're right there, Liza," he answered. 
 "I am a blimed fool." He looked at her a little 
 reproachfully, she thought, and then he said 
 "Goodbye," and turned away. 
 
 At first she was horrified that he should 
 know of her love for Jim; but then she did 
 not care. After all, it was nobody's business, 
 and what did anything matter as long as she 
 loved Jim and Jim loved her ? Then she grew 
 angry that Tom should suspect her; he could 
 know nothing but that some of the men had 
 seen her with Jim near Vauxhall, and it seemed 
 mean that he should condemn her for that. 
 Thenceforward, when she ran against Tom, 
 she cut him ; he never tried to speak to her, but 
 as she passed him, pretending to look in front 
 of her, she could see that he always blushed, 
 and she fancied his eyes were very sorrowful.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 155 
 
 Then several weeks went by, and as she began 
 to feel more and more lonely in the street, she 
 regretted the quarrel; she cried a little as she 
 thought that she had lost his faithful, gentle 
 love, and she would have much liked to be 
 friends with him again. If he had only made 
 some advance she would have welcomed him 
 so cordially, but she was too proud to go to 
 him herself and beg him to forgive her and 
 then, how could he forgive her? 
 
 She had lost Sally too, for on her marriage 
 Harry had made her give up the factory; he 
 was a young man with principles worthy of a 
 Member of Parliament, and he had said : 
 
 "A woman's plice is 'er 'ome, an' if 'er old 
 man can't afford ter keep 'er without 'er work- 
 in' in a factory well, all I can say is thet 'e'd 
 better go an' git single." 
 
 "Quite right too," agreed his mother-in- 
 law ; "an' wot's more, she'll 'ave a baby ter look 
 after soon, an' thet '11 tike 'er all 'er time, an' 
 there's no one as knows thet better than me, for 
 I've 'ad twelve, ter sy nothin' of two stills an* 
 one miss." 
 
 Liza quite envied Sally her happiness, for
 
 156 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 the bride was brimming over with song and 
 laughter; her happiness overwhelmed her. 
 
 "I am 'appy," she said to Liza one day a few 
 weeks after her marriage. "You dunno wot a 
 good sort 'Arry is. 'E's just a darlin', an' 
 there's no mistikin' it. I don't care wot other 
 people sy, but wot I says is, there's nothin' like 
 marriage. Never a cross word passes his lips, 
 an' mother 'as all 'er meals with us, an' 'e says 
 all the better. Well, I'm thet 'appy I simply 
 dunno if I'm standin' on by 'ead or on my 
 'eels." 
 
 But alas! it did not last too long. Sally was 
 not so full of joy when next Liza met her, and 
 one day her eyes looked very much as if she 
 had been crying. 
 
 "Wot's the matter?" asked Liza, looking at 
 her. "Wot 'ave yer been blubberin' abaht?" 
 
 "Me?" said Sally, getting very red. "Oh, 
 I've got a bit of a toothache, an' well, I'm 
 rather a fool like, an' it 'urt me so much that I 
 couldn't 'elp cryin'." 
 
 Liza was not satisfied, but could get nothing 
 further out of her. Then one day it came out. 
 It was a Saturday night, the time when women
 
 Liza of Lambeth 157 
 
 in Vere Street weep. Liza went up into Sal- 
 ly's room for a few minutes on her way to the 
 Westminster Bridge Road, where she was to 
 meet Jim. Harry had taken the top back 
 room, and Liza, climbing up the second flight 
 of stairs, called out as usual : 
 
 "Wot ho, Sally!" 
 
 The door remained shut, although Liza 
 could see that there was a light in the room; 
 but on getting to the door she stood still, for 
 she heard the sound of sobbing. She listened 
 for a minute and then knocked; there was a 
 little flurry inside, and some one called out : 
 
 "'Go's there?" 
 
 "Only me," said Liza, opening the door. As 
 she did so she saw Sally rapidly wipe her eyes 
 and put her handkerchief away. Her mother 
 was sitting by her side, evidently comforting 
 her. 
 
 "Wot's up, Sal?" asked Liza. 
 
 "Nothin'," answered Sally, with a brave 
 little gasp to stop the crying, turning her face 
 downwards so that Liza should not see the 
 tears in her eyes ; but they were too strong for 
 her, and, quickly taking out her handkerchief,
 
 158 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 she hid her face in it and began to sob broken- 
 heartedly. Liza looked at the mother in in- 
 terrogation. 
 
 "Oh, it's thet man again!" said the lady, 
 snorting and tossing her head." 
 
 "Not 'Arry!" asked Liza, in surprise. 
 
 "Not 'Arry 'oo is it if it ain't 'Arry? The 
 villin!" 
 
 "Wot's 'e been doin', then?" asked Liza 
 again. 
 
 "Beatin' 'er, that's wot Vs been doin' ! Oh, 
 the villin, 'e oughter be ashimed of 'isself, 'e 
 ought!" 
 
 "I didn't know 'e was like that!" said Liza. 
 
 "Didn't yer? I thought the 'ole street knew 
 it by now." said Mrs. Cooper, indignantly. 
 "Oh, Vs a wrong un, 'e is." 
 
 "It wasn't 'is fault," put in Sally, amidst 
 her sobs ; "it's only because 'e's 'ad a little drop 
 too much. 'E's arright when 'e's sober." 
 
 "A little drop too much! I should just 
 think 'e 'ad, the beast! I'd give it 'im if I was 
 a man. They're all like thet 'usbinds is all 
 alike; they're arright when they're sober 
 sometimes but when they've got the liquor in
 
 Liza of Lambeth 159 
 
 'em, they're beasts, an' no mistike. I 'ad a 
 'usbind myself for five-an'-twenty years, an' I 
 know 'em." 
 
 "Well, mother," sobbed Sally, "it was all 
 my fault. I should 'ave come 'ome earlier." 
 
 "Na, it wasn't your fault at all. Just you 
 look 'ere, Liza : this is wot 'e done an' call 'isself 
 a man. Just because Sally'd gone aht to 'ave a 
 chat with Mrs. McLeod in the next 'ouse, when 
 she come in 'e start bangin' 'er abaht. An' 
 me too, wot d'yer think of that !" Mrs. Cooper 
 was quite purple with indignation. 
 
 "Yus," she went on, "thet's a man for yer. 
 Of course I wasn't goin' ter stand there an' see 
 my daughter bein' knocked abaht; it wasn't 
 likely was it? An' 'e rounds on me, an' 'e 
 'its me with 'is fist. Look 'ere." She pulled 
 up her sleeves and showed two red and brawny 
 arms. ' 'E's bruised my arms; I thought 'e'd 
 broken it at fust. If I 'adn't put my arm up, 
 'e'd 'ave got me on the 'ead, an' 'e might 'ave 
 killed me. An' I says to 'im, 'If you touch me 
 again, I'll go ter the police-station, thet I will !' 
 Well, that frightened 'im a bit, an' then didn't 
 I let 'im 'ave it ! 'You call yerself a man,' says
 
 160 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 I, 'an' you ain't fit ter clean the drains aht.' 
 You should 'ave 'card the language 'e used. 
 'You dirty old woman,' says 'e, 'you go away; 
 you're always inter ferin' with me.' Well, I 
 don't like ter repeat wot 'e said, and thet's the 
 truth. An' I says ter 'im, 'I wish yer'd never 
 married my daughter, an' if I'd known you was 
 like this I'd 'ave died sooner than let yer.' ' 
 
 "Well, I didn't know 'e was like thet!" said 
 Liza. 
 
 " 'E was arright at fust," said Sally. 
 
 "Yus, they're always arright at fust! But 
 ter think it should 'ave come to this now, when 
 they ain't been married three months, an' the 
 first child not born yet! I think it's dis- 
 graceful." 
 
 Liza stayed a little while longer, helping to 
 comfort Sally, who kept pathetically taking to 
 herself all the blame of the dispute ; and then, 
 bidding her good-night and better luck, she 
 slid off to meet Jim. 
 
 When she reached the appointed spot he 
 was not to be found. She waited for some time, 
 and at last saw him come out of the neighbour- 
 ing pub.
 
 Liza of Lambeth i6r 
 
 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ m ^^^^ m ^ m *^***^ m ^ m ~^^*^ m ****^~'*^^^* mmmm T- 
 
 "Good-night, Jim," she said as she came up 
 to him. 
 
 "So you've turned up, 'ave yer?" he 
 answered roughly, turning round. 
 
 "Wot's the matter, Jim?" she asked, in a 
 frightened way, for he had never before spoken 
 to her in that manner. 
 
 "Nice thing ter keep me witin' all night for 
 yer to come aht!" 
 
 She saw that he had been drinking, and 
 answered humbly: 
 
 "I'm very sorry, Jim, but I went in to Sally, 
 an' 'er bloke 'ad been knockin' 'er abaht, an* 
 so I sat with 'er a bit." 
 
 "Knockin' 'er abaht, 'ad 'e? and serve 'er 
 damn well right, too ; an' there's many more as 
 could do with a good 'idin' !" 
 
 Liza did not answer. He looked at her,, 
 and then suddenly said : 
 
 "Come in an' 'ave a drink." 
 
 "Na, I'm not thirsty; I don't want a drink,'" 
 she answered. j 
 
 "Come on," he said, angrily. 
 
 "Na, Jim, you've had quite enough already.** 
 
 " 'Oo are you talkin' ter?" he said. "Don't
 
 1 62 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 come if yer don't want ter ; I'll go an' 'ave one 
 by myself." 
 
 "Na, Jim, don't." She caught hold of his 
 arm. 
 
 "Yus I shall," he said, going towards the 
 pub, while she held him back. "Let me go, 
 can't yer! Let me go!" He roughly pulled 
 his arm away from her. As she tried to catch 
 hold of it again, he pushed her back, and in 
 the little scuffle caught her a blow over the 
 face. 
 
 "Oh!" she cried, "you did 'urt!" 
 
 He was sobered at once. 
 
 "Liza," he said. "I ain't 'urt yer?" She 
 didn't answer, and he took her in his arms. 
 "Liza, I ain't 'urt you, 'ave I? Say I ain't 
 'urt yer. I'm so sorry; I beg your pardon, 
 Liza." 
 
 "Arright, old chap," she said, smiling 
 charmingly on him. "It wasn't the blow that 
 'urt me much ; it was the wy you was talkin'." 
 
 "I didn't mean it, Liza." He was so con- 
 trite, he could not humble himself enough. "I 
 'ad another bloomin' row with the missus ter- 
 night, an' then when I didn't find you 'ere, an'
 
 Liza of Lambeth 163 
 
 I kept witin' an' witin well, I fair downright 
 lost my 'air. An' I 'ad two or three pints of 
 four 'alf, an' well, I dunno " 
 
 "Never mind, old cock, I can stand more 
 than thet as long as yer loves me." 
 
 He kissed her and they were quite friends 
 again. But the little quarrel had another effect 
 which was worse for Liza. When she woke up 
 next morning she noticed a slight soreness over 
 the ridge of bone under the left eye, and on 
 looking in the glass saw that it was black and 
 blue and green. She bathed it, but it remained, 
 and seemed to get more marked. She was ter- 
 rified lest people should see it, and kept indoors 
 all day ; but next morning it was blacker than 
 ever. She went to the factory with her hat 
 over her eyes and her head bent down; she 
 escaped observation, but on the way home she 
 was not so lucky. The sharp eyes of some 
 girls noticed it first. 
 
 "Wot's the matter with yer eye?" asked one 
 of them. 
 
 "Me?" answered Liza, putting her hand up 
 as if in ignorance. "Nothin' thet I knows of."
 
 164 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 Two or three young men were standing by, 
 and hearing the girl, looked up. 
 
 "Why, yer've got a black eye, Liza!" 
 "Me? I ain't got no black eye!" 
 "Yus, you 'ave; 'ow d'yer get it?" 
 "I dunno," said Liza. "I didn't know I 'ad 
 one." 
 
 "Garn! tell us another!" was the answer. 
 "One doesn't git a black eye without knowin' 
 *ow they got it." 
 
 "Well, I did fall against the chest of drawers 
 yesterday; I suppose I must 'ave got it then." 
 "Oh yes, we believe thet, don't we?" 
 "I didn't know 'e was so 'andy with 'is 
 dukes, did you, Ted?" asked one man of an- 
 other. 
 
 Liza felt herself grow red to the tips of her 
 toes. 
 
 "Who?" she asked. 
 
 "Never you mind ; nobody you know." 
 At that moment Jim's wife passed and 
 looked at her with a scowl. Liza wished her- 
 self a hundred miles away, and blushed more 
 violently than ever.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 165 
 
 "Wot are yer blushin' abaht?" ingenuously 
 asked one of the girls. 
 
 And they all looked from her to Mrs. Blake- 
 ston and back again. Some one said, " 'Ow 
 abaht our Sunday boots on now?" And a 
 titter went through them. Liza's nerve de- 
 serted her; she could think of nothing to say, 
 and a sob burst from her. To hide the tears 
 which were coming from her eyes she turned 
 away and walked homewards. Immediately a 
 great shout of laughter broke from the group, 
 and she heard them positively screaming till 
 she got into her own house.
 
 Chapter Eleven 
 
 A FEW days afterwards Liza was talking 
 with Sally, who did not seem very much 
 happier than when Liza had last seen her. 
 
 " 'E ain't wot I thought 'e was," she said. 
 "I don't mind sayin' thet; but 'e 'as a lot ter 
 put up with; I expect I'm rather tryin' some- 
 times, an' 'e means well. P'raps 'e'll be kinder 
 like when the biby's born." 
 
 "Cheer up, old gal," answered Liza, who had 
 seen something of the lives of many married 
 couples; "it won't seem so bad after yer gets 
 used to it; it's a bit disappointin' at fust, but 
 yer gits not ter mind it." 
 
 After a little Sally said she must go and 
 see about her husband's tea. She said good- 
 bye, and then rather awkwardly: 
 
 "Say, Liza, tike care of yerself !" 
 
 "Tike care of meself why?" asked Liza, in 
 surprise. 
 
 "Yer know wot I mean." 
 
 167
 
 1 68 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Na, I'm darned if I do." 
 
 "Thet there Mrs. Blakeston, she's lookin' 
 aht for you." 
 
 "Mrs. Blakeston!" Liza was startled. 
 
 " Yus ; she says she's goin' ter give you some- 
 thin' if she can git 'old on yer. I should advise 
 yer ter tike care." 
 
 "Me?" said Liza. 
 
 Sally looked away, so as not to see the other's 
 face. 
 
 "She says as 'ow yer've been messin' abaht 
 with 'er old man." 
 
 Liza didn't say anything, and Sally, repeat- 
 ing her goodbye, slid off. 
 
 Liza felt a chill run through her. She had 
 several times noticed a scowl and a look of 
 anger on Mrs. Blakeston's face, and she had 
 avoided her as much as possible; but she had 
 no idea that the woman meant to do anything 
 to her. She was very frightened, a cold sweat 
 broke out over her face. If Mrs. Blakeston 
 got hold of her she would be helpless, she was 
 so small and weak, while the other was strong 
 and muscular. Liza wondered what she would 
 do if she did catch her.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 169 
 
 That night she told Jim, and tried to make a 
 joke of it. 
 
 "I say, Jim, your missus she says she's 
 goin' ter give me socks if she catches me." 
 
 "My missus! 'Ow d'yer know?" 
 
 "She's been tellin' people in the street." 
 
 "Go' lumme," said Jim, furious, "if she dares 
 ter touch a 'air of your 'ead, swop me dicky I'll 
 give 'er sich a 'idin' as she never 'ad before! 
 By God, give me the chanst, an' I would let 'er 
 'ave it; I'm bloomin' well sick of 'er sulks!" 
 He clenched his fist as he spoke. 
 
 Liza was a coward. She could not help 
 thinking of her enemy's threat; it got on her 
 nerves, and she hardly dared go out for fear 
 of meeting her; she would look nervously in 
 front of her, quickly turning round if she saw 
 in the distance any one resembling Mrs. Blake- 
 ston. She dreamed of her at night ; she saw the 
 big, powerful form, the heavy, frowning face, 
 and the curiously braided brown hair ; and she 
 would wake up with a cry and find herself 
 bathed in sweat. 
 
 It was the Saturday afternoon following 
 this, a chill November day, with the roads
 
 170 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 sloshy, and a grey, comfortless sky, that made 
 one's spirits sink. It was about three o'clock, 
 and Liza was coming home from work ; she got 
 into Vere Street, and was walking quickly to- 
 wards her house when she saw Mrs. Blakeston 
 coming towards her. Her heart gave a great 
 jump. Turning, she walked rapidly in the 
 direction she had come; with a screw round of 
 her eyes she saw that she was being followed, 
 and therefore went straight out of Vere Street. 
 She went right round, meaning to get into the 
 street from the other end, and, unobserved, 
 slip into her house, which was then quite close ; 
 but she dared not risk it immediately for fear 
 Mrs. Blakeston should still be there; so she 
 waited about for half an hour. It seemed an 
 age. Finally, taking her courage in both 
 hands, she turned the corner and entered Vere 
 Street. She nearly ran into the arms of Mrs. 
 Blakeston, who was standing close to the pub- 
 lic-house door. 
 
 Liza gave a little cry, and the woman said, 
 with a sneer: 
 
 "Yer didn't expect ter see me, did yer?" 
 Liza did not answer, but tried to walk past
 
 Liza of Lambeth 171 
 
 , 
 
 her. Mrs. Blakeston stepped forward and 
 blocked her way. 
 
 " Yer seem ter be in a mighty fine 'urry." she 
 said. 
 
 "Yus, I've got ter git 'ome," said Liza, 
 again trying to pass. 
 
 "But supposin' I don't let yer?" remarked 
 Mrs. Blakeston, preventing her from moving. 
 
 "Why don't yer leave me alone?" Liza said. 
 "I ain't interferin' with you!" 
 
 "Not interferin' with me, aren't yer? I like 
 thet!" 
 
 "Let me go by," said Liza. "I don't want 
 ter talk ter you." 
 
 "Na, I know thet," said the other; "but I 
 want ter talk ter you, an' I sha'n't let yer go 
 until I've said wot I wants ter sy." 
 
 Liza looked round for help. At the begin- 
 ning of the altercation the loafers about the 
 public-house had looked up with interest, and 
 gradually gathered round in a little circle. 
 Passers-by had joined in, and a number of 
 other people in the street, seeing the crowd, 
 added themselves to it to see what was going 
 on. Liza saw that all eyes were fixed on her,
 
 172 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 the men amused and excited, the women un- 
 sympathetic, rather virtuously indignant. Liza 
 wanted to ask for help, but there were so many 
 people, and they all seemed so much against 
 her, that she had not the courage to. So, hav- 
 ing surveyed the crowd, she turned her eyes to 
 Mrs. Blakeston, and stood in front of her, 
 trembling a little, and very white. 
 
 "Na, 'e ain't there," said Mrs. Blakeston, 
 sneeringly, "so yer needn't look for 'im." 
 
 "I dunno wot yer mean," answered Liza, 
 "an I want ter go awy. I ain't done nothin' 
 ter you." 
 
 "Not done nothin' ter me?" furiously re- 
 peated the woman. "I'll tell yer wot yer've 
 done ter me you've robbed me of my 'usbind, 
 you 'ave. I never 'ad a word with my 'usbind 
 until you took 'im from me. An' now it's all 
 you with 'im. 'E's got no time for 'is wife an' 
 family it's all you. An' 'is money, too. I 
 never git a penny of it; if it weren't for the 
 little bit I 'ad saved up in the siving-bank, me 
 an' my children 'ud be starvin' now! An' all 
 through you!" She shook her fist at her. 
 
 "I never 'ad any money from any one."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 173 
 
 "Don't talk ter me; I know yer did. Yer 
 dirty bitch ! You oughter be ashimed of your- 
 self tikin' a married man from 'is family, an' 
 'im old enough ter be yer father." 
 
 "She's right there!" said one or two of the 
 onlooking women. "There can't be no good 
 in 'er if she tikes somebody else's 'usbind." 
 
 "I'll give it yer!" proceeded Mrs. Blakeston, 
 getting more hot and excited, brandishing her 
 fist, and speaking in a loud voice, hoarse with 
 rage. "Oh, I've been tryin' ter git 'old on yer 
 this four weeks. Why, you're a prostitute 
 thet's wot you are!" 
 
 "I'm not!" answered Liza, indignantly. 
 
 "Yus, you are," repeated Mrs. Blakeston, 
 advancing menacingly, so that Liza shrank 
 back. "An' wot's more, 'e treats yer like one. 
 I know 'oo give yer thet black eye ; thet shows 
 what 'e thinks of yer ! An' serve yer bloomin' 
 well right if 'e'd give yer one in both eyes!" 
 
 Mrs. Blakeston stood close in front of her, 
 her heavy jaw protruded and the frown of her 
 eyebrows dark and stern. For a moment she 
 stood silent, contemplating Liza, while the sur- 
 rounders looked on in breathless interest.
 
 174 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Yer dirty little bitch, you!" she said at last. 
 "Tike that!" and with her open hand she gave 
 her a sharp smack on the cheek. 
 
 Liza started back with a cry and put her 
 hand up to her face. 
 
 "An 5 tike thet!" added Mrs. Blakeston, re- 
 peating the blow. Then, gathering up the 
 spittle in her mouth, she spat in Liza's face. 
 
 Liza sprang on her, and with her hands 
 spread out like claws buried her nails in the 
 woman's face and drew them down her cheeks. 
 Mrs. Blakeston caught hold of her hair with 
 both hands and tugged at it as hard as she 
 could. But they were immediately separated. 
 
 ' 'Ere, 'old 'ard!" said some of the men. 
 "Fight it aht fair and square. Don't go 
 scratchin' and maulin' like thet." 
 
 "I'll fight 'er; I don't mind!" shouted Mrs. 
 Blakeston, tucking up her sleeves and savagely 
 glaring at her opponent. 
 
 Liza stood in front of her, pale and trem- 
 bling ; as she looked at her enemy, and saw the 
 long red marks of her nails, with blood coming 
 from one or two of them, she shrank back. 
 
 "I don't want ter fight," she said, hoarsely.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 175 
 
 "Na, I don't suppose yer do," hissed the 
 other, "but yer'll damn well 'ave ter !" 
 
 "She's ever so much bigger than me; I've got 
 no chanst," added Liza, tearfully. 
 
 "You should 'ave thought of thet before. 
 Come on!" and with these words Mrs. Blake- 
 ston rushed upon her. She hit her with both 
 fists one after the other. Liza did not try to 
 guard herself, but imitating the woman's mo- 
 tion, hit out with her own fists; and for a 
 minute or two they continued thus, raining 
 blows on one another with the same wind-mill 
 motion of the arms. But Liza could not stand 
 against the other woman's weight; the blows 
 came down heavy and rapid all over her face 
 and head. She put up her hands to cover her 
 face and turned her head away, while Mrs. 
 Blakeston kept on hitting mercilessly. 
 
 "Time!" shouted some of the men "Time!" 
 and Mrs. Blakeston stopped to rest herself. 
 
 "It don't seem 'ardly fair to set them two 
 on tergether. Liza's got no chanst against a 
 big woman like thet," said a man among the 
 crowd. 
 
 "Well, it's 'er own fault," answered a
 
 176 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 woman; "she didn't oughter mess about with 
 'er 'usbind." 
 
 "Well, I don't think it's right," added an- 
 other man. "She's gettin' it too much." 
 
 "An' serve 'er right too!" said one of the 
 women. "She deserves all she gets, an' a damn 
 sight more inter the bargain." 
 
 "Quite right," put in a third; "a woman's 
 got no right ter tike some one's 'usbind from 
 'er. An' if she does she's bloomin' lucky if she 
 gits off with a 'idin' thet's wot I think." 
 
 "So do I. But I wouldn't 'ave thought it 
 of Liza. I never thought she was a wrong 
 'un." 
 
 "Pretty specimen she is!" said a little dark 
 woman, who looked like a Jewess. "If she 
 messed abaht with my old man, I'd stick 'er 
 I swear I would!" 
 
 "Now she's been carryin' on with one, she'll 
 try an' git others you see if she don't." 
 
 "She'd better not come round my 'ouse; I'll 
 soon give 'er wot for." 
 
 Meanwhile Liza was standing at one corner 
 of the ring, trembling all over and crying bit- 
 terly. One of her eyes was bunged up, and
 
 Liza of Lambeth 177 
 
 her hair, all dishevelled, was hanging down 
 over her face. Two young fellows, who had 
 constituted themselves her seconds, were stand- 
 ing in front of her, offering rather ironical com- 
 fort. One of them had taken the bottom cor- 
 ners of her apron and was fanning her with it, 
 while the other was showing her how to stand 
 and hold her arms. 
 
 "You stand up to 'er, Liza," he was saying; 
 "there ain't no good funkin' it, you'll simply 
 get it all the worse. You 'it 'er back. Give 'er 
 one on the boko, like this see ; yer must show 
 a bit of pluck, yer know." 
 
 Liza tried to check her sobs. 
 
 "Yus, 'it 'er 'ard, that's wot yer've got ter 
 do," said the other. "An' if yer find she's 
 gettin' the better on yer, you close on 'er and 
 catch 'old of 'er 'air and scratch 'er." 
 
 "You've marked 'er with yer nails, Liza. 
 By gosh, you did fly on her when she spat at 
 yer! thet's the way ter do the job!" 
 
 Then turning to his fellow he said 
 
 "D'yer remember thet fight as old Mother 
 Gregg 'ad with another woman in the street 
 last year?"
 
 178 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Na," he answered, "I never saw thet." 
 
 "It was a cawker; an' the cops come in and 
 took 'em both off ter quod." 
 
 Liza wished the policemen would come and 
 take her off ; she would willingly have gone to 
 prison to escape the fiend in front of her; but 
 no help came. 
 
 "Time's up!" shouted the referee. "Fire 
 away !" 
 
 "Tike care of the cops!" shouted a man. 
 
 "There's no fear abaht them," answered 
 somebody else. "They always keeps out of the 
 way when there's anythin' goin' on." 
 
 "Fire away!" 
 
 Mrs. Blakeston attacked Liza madly; but 
 the girl stood up bravely, and as well as she 
 could gave back the blows she received. The 
 spectators grew tremendously excited. 
 
 "Got 'im again!" they shouted. "Give it 'er, 
 Liza, thet's a good 'un! 'it 'er 'ard!" 
 
 "Two ter one on the old 'un!" shouted a 
 sporting gentleman; but Liza found no 
 backers. 
 
 "Ain't she standin' up well now she's 
 roused?" cried some one.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 179 
 
 "Oh, she's got some pluck in 'er, she 'as!" 
 
 "That's a knock-aht!" they shouted as Mrs. 
 Blakeston brought her fist down on to Liza's 
 nose ; the girl staggered back, and blood began 
 to flow. Then, losing all fear, mad with rage, 
 she made a rush on her enemy, and rained down 
 blows all over her nose and eyes and mouth. 
 The woman recoiled at the sudden violence 
 of the onslaught, and the men cried: 
 
 "By God, the little 'un's gettin' the best of 
 it!" 
 
 But quickly recovering herself the woman 
 closed with Liza, and dug her nails into her 
 flesh. Liza caught hold of her hair and pulled 
 with all her might, and turning her teeth on 
 Mrs. Blakeston tried to bite her. And thus 
 for a minute they swayed about, scratching, 
 tearing, biting, sweat and blood pouring down 
 their faces, and their eyes fixed on one an- 
 other, bloodshot and full of rage. The audience 
 shouted and cheered and clapped their hands. 
 
 "Wot the 'ell's up 'ere?" 
 
 "I sy, look there," said some of the women 
 in a whisper. "It's the 'usbind!"
 
 180 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 He stood on tiptoe and looked over the 
 crowd. 
 
 "My Gawd," he said, "it's Liza!" 
 
 Then roughly pushing the people aside, he 
 made his way through the Crowd into the 
 centre, and thrusting himself between the two 
 women, tore them apart. He turned furiously 
 on his wife. 
 
 "By Gawd, I'll give yer somethin' for this!" 
 
 And for a moment they all three stood 
 silently looking at one another. 
 
 Another man had been attracted by the 
 crowd, and he too pushed his way through. 
 
 "Come 'ome, Liza," he said. 
 
 "Tom!" 
 
 He took hold of her arm, and led her through 
 the people, who gave way to let her pass. 
 They walked silently through the street, Tom 
 very grave, Liza weeping bitterly. 
 
 "Oh, Tom," she sobbed after a while, "I 
 couldn't 'elp it!" Then, when her tears per- 
 mitted, "I did love 'im so!" 
 
 When they got to the door she plaintively 
 said, "Come in," and he followed her to her
 
 Liza of Lambeth 181 
 
 room. Here she sank on to a chair, and gave 
 herself up to her tears. 
 
 Tom wetted the end of a towel and began 
 wiping her face, grimy with blood and tears. 
 She let him do it, just moaning amid her sobs: 
 
 "You are good ter me, Tom." 
 
 "Cheer up, old gal," he said, kindly, "it's all 
 over now." 
 
 After a while the excess of crying brought 
 its cessation. She drank some water, and then 
 taking up a broken hand-glass she looked at 
 herself, saying: 
 
 "I am a sight!" and proceeded to wind up 
 her hair. "You 'ave been good ter me, Tom," 
 she repeated, her voice still broken with sobs; 
 and as he sat down beside her she took his hand. 
 
 "Na; I ain't," he answered; "it's only wot 
 anybody 'ud 'ave done." 
 
 "Yer know, Tom," she said, after a little 
 silence, "I'm so sorry I spoke cross like when 
 I met yer in the street ; you ain't spoke ter me 
 
 since." 
 
 "Oh, thet's all over now, old lidy, we needn't 
 think of thet."
 
 1 82 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 p""" 1 ^ 
 
 "Oh, but I 'ave treated yer bad. I'm a 
 regular wrong 'un, I am." 
 
 He pressed her hand without speaking. 
 
 "I say, Tom," she began, after another 
 pause. "Did yer know thet well, you know 
 before ter-day?" 
 
 He blushed as he answered 
 
 "Yus." 
 
 She spoke very sadly and slowly. 
 
 "I thought yer did; yer seemed so cut up 
 like when I used to meet yer. Yer did love me 
 then, Tom, didn't yer?" 
 
 "I do now, dearie," he answered. 
 
 "Ah, it's too lite now," she sighed. 
 
 "D'yer know, Liza," he said, "I just abaht 
 kicked the life aht of a feller 'cause 'e said you 
 was messin' abaht with with 'im." 
 
 "An' yer knew I was?" 
 
 "Yus but I wasn't goin' ter 'ave any one 
 say it before me." 
 
 "They've all rounded on me except you, 
 Tom. I'd 'ave done better if I'd tiken you 
 when you arst me; I shouldn't be where I am 
 now, if I 'ad."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 183 
 
 "Well, won't yer now? Won't yer 'ave me 
 now?" 
 
 "Me ? After wot's 'appened ?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind abaht thet. Thet don't 
 matter ter me if you'll marry me. I fair can't 
 live without yer, Liza won't yer?" 
 
 She groaned. 
 
 "Na, I can't, Tom; it wouldn't be right." 
 
 "Why not, if I don't mind?" 
 
 "Tom," she said, looking down, almost whis- 
 pering, "I'm like that you know!" 
 
 "Wot d'yer mean?" 
 
 She could scarcely utter the words : 
 
 "I think I'm in the family wy." 
 
 He paused a moment ; then spoke again. 
 
 "Well I don't mind, if yer '11 only marry 
 me." 
 
 "Na, I can't Tom," she said, bursting into 
 tears; "I can't, but you are so good ter me; 
 I'd do anythin' ter mike it up ter you." 
 
 She put her arms round his neck and slid on 
 to his knees. 
 
 "Yer know, Tom, I couldn't marry yer now; 
 but anythin' else if yer wants me ter do any- 
 thin' else, I'll do it if it'll mike you 'appy."
 
 184 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 He did not understand, but only said : 
 "You're a good gal, Liza," and bending 
 down he kissed her gravely on the forehead. 
 
 Then with a sigh he lifted her down, and 
 getting up left her alone. For a while she 
 sat where he left her, but as she thought of all 
 she had gone through her loneliness and misery 
 overcame her, the tears welled forth, and 
 throwing herself on the bed she buried her face 
 in the pillows 
 
 Jim stood looking at Liza as she went off 
 with Tom, and his wife watched him jealously. 
 
 "It's 'er you're thinkin' abaht. Of course 
 you'd 'ave liked ter tike 'er 'ome yerself, I 
 know, an' leave me to shift for myself." 
 
 "Shut up!" said Jim, angrily turning upon 
 her. 
 
 "I sha'n't shut up," she answered, raising 
 her voice. "Nice 'usbind you are. Go' lumme, 
 as good as they mike 'em! Nice thing ter go 
 an' leave yer wife and children for a thing 
 like thet! At your age, too! You oughter be 
 ashimed of yerself. Why, it's like messin' 
 abaht with yer own daughter !"
 
 Liza of Lambeth 185 
 
 "By God!" he ground his teeth with rage 
 "if yer don't leave me alone, I'll kick the life 
 aht of yer!" 
 
 "There!" she said, turning to the crowd 
 "there, see 'ow 'e treats me! Listen ter thet! 
 I've been 'is wife for twenty years, an' yer 
 couldn't 'ave 'ad a better wife, an' I've bore 
 'im nine children, ter say nothin' of a miscarri- 
 age, an' I've got another one comin', an' thet's 
 'ow 'e treats me! Nice 'usbind, ain't it?" She 
 looked at him scornfully, then again at the sur- 
 rounders as if for their opinion. 
 
 "Well, I ain't goin' ter stay 'ere all night; 
 get aht of the light!" He pushed aside the 
 people who barred his way, and the one or two 
 who growled a little at his roughness, looking 
 at his angry face, were afraid to complain. 
 
 "Look at 'im!" said his wife. " 'E's afraid, 
 *e is. See 'im skinkin' awy like a bloomin' 
 mongrel with 'is tail between 'is legs. Ugh!" 
 She walked just behind him, shouting and 
 brandishing her arms. 
 
 "Yer dirty beast, you," she yelled; "ter go 
 foolin' abaht with a little girl! Ugh! I wish 
 yer wasn't my 'usbind; I wouldn't be seen
 
 1 86 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 ^^^^^^^^~~^ m ^~~^ mi ~~^~^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^~ im *'^^^^^^^^^^^ m *^^^^ 
 
 drowned with yer, if I could 'elp it. Yer mike 
 me sick ter look at yer/' 
 
 The crowd followed them on both sides of 
 the road, keeping at a discreet distance, but 
 still eagerly listening. 
 
 Jim turned on her once or twice and said : 
 
 "Shut up!" 
 
 But it only made her more angry. "I tell 
 yer I sha'n't shut up. I don't care 'oo know it, 
 
 you're a , you are! I'm ashimed the 
 
 children should 'ave such a father as you. 
 D'yer think I didn't know wot you was up ter 
 them nights you was away coiirtin', yus 
 courtin' ? You're a nice man, you are !" 
 
 Jim did not answer her, but walked on. At 
 last he turned round to the people who were 
 following, and said : 
 
 "Na then, wot d'you want 'ere? You jolly 
 well clear, or I'll give some of you somethin' !" 
 
 They were mostly boys and women, and at 
 his words they shrank back. 
 
 ' 'E's afraid ter sy anythin' ter me," jeered 
 Mrs. Blakeston. " 'E's a beauty!" 
 
 Jim entered his house, and she followed him 
 till they came up into their room. Polly was
 
 Liza of Lambeth 187 
 
 giving the children their tea. They all started 
 up as they saw their mother with her hair and 
 clothes in disorder, blotches of dried blood on 
 her face, and the long scratch-marks. 
 
 "Oh, mother," said Polly, "wot is the 
 matter?" 
 
 ' 'E's the matter," she answered, pointing to 
 her husband. "It's through 'im I've got all 
 this. Look at yer father, children ; 'e's a father 
 ter be proud of, leavin' yer ter starve an' 
 spendin' 'is wee's money on a dirty little 
 strumpet." 
 
 Jim felt easier now he had not got so many 
 strange eyes on him. 
 
 "Now, look 'ere," he said, "I'm not goin' ter 
 stand this much longer, so just you tike care." 
 
 "I ain't frightened of yer. I know yer'd like 
 ter kill me, but yer'll get strung up if you do." 
 
 "Na, I won't kill yer, but if I 'ave any more 
 of your sauce I'll do the next thing to it." 
 
 "Touch me if yer dare," she said; "I'll 'ave 
 the law of you. An' I shouldn't mind 'ow 
 many months 'ard you got." 
 
 "Be quiet!" he said, and, closing his hand,
 
 l88 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 gave her a heavy blow in the chest that made 
 her stagger. 
 
 "Oh, you !" she screamed. 
 
 She seized the poker, and in a fury of rage 
 rushed at him. 
 
 "Would yer?" he said, catching hold of it 
 and wrenching it from her grasp. He threw it 
 to the end of the room and grappled with her. 
 For a moment they swayed about from side to 
 side, then with an effort he lifted her off her 
 feet and threw her to the ground; but she 
 caught hold of him and he came down on the 
 top of her. She screamed as her head thumped 
 down on the floor, and the children, who were 
 standing huddled up in a corner, terrified, 
 screamed too. 
 
 Jim caught hold of his wife's head and began 
 beating it against the floor. 
 
 She cried out, "You're killing me! Help! 
 help!" 
 
 Polly in terror ran up to her father, and 
 tried to pull him off. 
 
 "Father, don't 'it 'er! Anythin' but thet 
 for God's sike."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 189 
 
 "Leave me alone," he said, "or I'll give you 
 somethin' too." 
 
 She caught hold of his arm, but Jim, still 
 kneeling on his wife, gave Polly a back-handed 
 blow which sent her staggering back. 
 
 "Tike thet!" 
 
 Polly ran out of the room, downstairs to the 
 first-floor front, where two men and two 
 women were sitting at tea. 
 
 "Oh, come an' stop father !" she cried. " 'E's 
 killin' mother!" 
 
 "Why,wot's'edoin'?" 
 
 "Oh, 'e's got 'er on the floor, an' Vs bangin' 
 'er 'ead. 'E's payin' 'er aht for givin' Liza 
 Kemp a 'idin'." 
 
 One of the women started up and said to 
 her husband: 
 
 "Come on, John, you go an' stop it." 
 
 "Don't you, John," said the other man. 
 "When a man's givin' 'is wife socks it's best 
 not ter interfere." 
 
 "But 'e's killin' 'er," repeated Polly, trem- 
 bling with fright. 
 
 "Garn!" rejoined the man; "she'll git over 
 it; an' p'raps she deserves it, for all you know."
 
 190 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 John sat undecided, looking now at Polly, 
 now at his wife, and now at the other man. 
 
 "Oh, do be quick for God's sike!" said 
 Polly. 
 
 At that moment a sound as of something 
 smashing was heard upstairs, and a woman's 
 shriek. Mrs. Blakeston, in an effort to tear 
 herself away from her husband, had knocked 
 up against the wash-hand stand, and the whole 
 thing had crashed down. 
 
 "Go on, John," said the wife. 
 
 "Na, I ain't goin' ; I sha'n't do no good, an' 
 'e'll only round on me." 
 
 "Well, you are a bloomin' lot of cowards, 
 thet's all I can say," indignantly answered the 
 wife. "But I ain't goin' ter see a woman mur- 
 dered; I'll go an' stop 'im." 
 
 With that she ran upstairs and threw open 
 the door. Jim was still kneeling on his wife, 
 hitting her furiously, while she was trying to 
 protect her head and face with her hands. 
 
 "Leave off!" shouted the woman. 
 
 Jim looked up. ' 'Oo the devil are you?" he 
 said. 
 
 "Leave off, I tell yer. Aren't yer ashimed
 
 Liza of Lambeth 191 
 
 of yerself , knockin' a woman abaht like that?" 
 And she sprang at him, seizing his fist. 
 
 "Let go," he said, "or I'll give you a bit." 
 
 "Yer'd better not touch me," she said. "Yer 
 dirty coward! Why, look at 'er, she's almost 
 senseless." 
 
 Jim stopped and gazed at his wife. He got 
 up and gave her a kick. 
 
 "Git up !" he said ; but she remained huddled 
 up on the floor, moaning feebly. The woman 
 from downstairs went on her knees and took 
 her head in her arms. 
 
 "Never mind, Mrs. Blakeston. 'E's not 
 goin' ter touch yer. 'Ere, drink this little drop 
 of water." Then turning to Jim, with infinite 
 disdain, "Yer dirty blackguard, you! If I 
 was a man I'd give you something for this." 
 
 Jim put on his hat and went out, slamming 
 the door, while the woman shouted after him, 
 "Good riddance!" 
 
 "Lord love yer," said Mrs. Kemp, "wot is 
 the matter?" 
 
 She had just come in, and opening the door 
 had started back in surprise at seeing Liza on
 
 192 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 the bed, all tears. Liza made no answer, but 
 cried as if her heart were breaking. Mrs. 
 Kemp went up to her and tried to look at 
 her face. 
 
 "Don't cry, dearie ; tell us wot it is." 
 
 Liza sat up and dried her eyes. 
 
 "I am so un'appy." 
 
 "Wot 'ave yer been doin' ter yer fice? My !" 
 
 "NothinV 
 
 "Gam! Yer can't 'ave got a fice like thet 
 all by itself." 
 
 "I had a bit of a scrimmage with a woman 
 dahn the street," sobbed out Liza. 
 
 "She 'as give yer a doin' ; an' yer all upset 
 an' look at yer eye ! I brought in a little bit of 
 stike fer ter-morrer's dinner; you just cut a 
 bit off an' put it over yer optic, that'll soon put 
 it right. I always used ter do thet myself when 
 me an' your poor father 'ad words." 
 
 "Oh, I'm all over in a tremble ; an' my 'ead, 
 oo, my 'ead does feel bad!" 
 
 "I know wot yer want," remarked Mrs. 
 Kemp, nodding her head, "an' it so 'appens 
 as I've got the very thing with me." She 
 pulled a medicine bottle out of her pocket, and
 
 Liza of Lambeth 193 
 
 taking out the cork smelt it. "Thet's good 
 stuff; none of your fire-water or your methy- 
 lated spirit. I don't often indulge in sich 
 things, but when I do I likes to 'ave the best." 
 
 She handed the bottle to Liza, who took a 
 mouthful and gave it her back ; she had a drink 
 herself, and smacked her lips. 
 
 "Thet's good stuff. 'Ave a drop more." 
 
 "Na," said Liza, "I ain't used ter drinkin' 
 spirits." 
 
 She felt dull and miserable, and a heavy pain 
 throbbed through her head. If she could only 
 forget ! 
 
 "Na, I know you're not, but, bless your 
 soul, thet won' 'urt yer. It'll do you no end 
 of good. Why, often when I've been feelin' 
 thet done up thet I didn't know wot ter do with 
 myself, I've just 'ad a little drop of whiskey 
 or gin I'm not partic'ler wot spirit it is an' 
 it's pulled me up wonderful." 
 
 Liza took another sip, a slightly longer one; 
 it burnt as it went down her throat, and sent 
 through her a feeling of comfortable warmth. 
 
 "I really do think it's doin' me good," she
 
 194 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 said, wiping her eyes and giving a sigh of relief 
 as the crying ceased. 
 
 "I knew it would. Tike my word for it, if 
 people took a little drop of spirits in time, 
 there'd be much less sickness abaht." 
 
 They sat for a while in silence, then Mrs. 
 Kemp remarked : 
 
 "Yer know, Liza, it strikes me as 'ow we 
 could do with a drop more. You not bein' in 
 the 'abit of tikin' anythin' I only brought just 
 this little drop for me ; an' it ain't took us long 
 ter finish thet up. But as you're an invalid 
 like we'll git a little more this time; it's sure 
 ter turn aht useful." 
 
 "But you ain't got nothin' ter put it in." 
 
 "Yus, I 'ave," answered Mrs. Kemp; 
 "there's thet bottle as they gives me at the 
 'orspital. Just empty the medicine aht into 
 the pile, an' wash it aht, an' I'll tike it round 
 to the pub myself." 
 
 Liza, when she was left alone, began to turn 
 things over in her mind. She did not feel so 
 utterably unhappy as before, for the things 
 she had gone through seemed further away.
 
 Liza of LambetK 195 
 
 "After all," she said, "it don't so much 
 matter." 
 
 Mrs. Kemp came in. 
 
 ' 'Ave a little drop more, Liza," she said. 
 
 "Well, I don't mind if I do. I'll get some 
 tumblers, shall I? There's no mistike abaht 
 it," she added, when she had taken a little, "it 
 do buck yer up." 
 
 "You're right, Liza you're right. An' you 
 wanted it badly. Fancy you 'avin' a fight with 
 a woman! Oh, I've 'ad some in my day, but 
 then I wasn't a little bit of a thing like you is. 
 I wish I'd been there, I wouldn't 'ave stood by 
 an' looked on while my daughter was gettin' 
 the worst of it ; although I'm turned sixty-five, 
 an' gettin' on for sixty-six, I'd 'ave said to 'er: 
 'If you touch my daughter you'll 'ave me ter 
 deal with, so just look aht!' ' 
 
 She brandished her glass, and that remind- 
 ing her, she refilled it and Liza's. 
 
 "Ah, Liza," she remarked, "you're a chip of 
 the old block. Ter see you settin' there an' 
 'avin' your little drop, it mikes me feel as if I 
 was livin' a better life. Yer used ter be rather 
 'ard on me, Liza, 'cause I took a little drop
 
 196 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 on Saturday nights. An* mind, I don't sy I 
 didn't tike a little drop too much sometimes 
 accidents will occur even in the best regulated 
 of families; but wot I say is this it's good 
 stuff, I say, an' it don't 'urt yer." 
 
 "Buck up, old gal!" said Liza, filling the 
 glasses, "no 'eel-taps. I feel like a new woman 
 now. I was thet dahn in the dumps well, I 
 shouldn't 'ave cared if I'd been at the bottom 
 of the river, an' thet's the truth." 
 
 "You don't sy so," replied her affectionate 
 mother. 
 
 "Yus, I do, an' I mean it too, but I don't 
 feel like thet now. You're right, mother, when 
 you're in trouble there's nothin' like a bit of 
 spirits." 
 
 "Well, if I don't know, I dunno 'oo does, 
 for the trouble I've 'ad, it 'ud be enough to kill 
 many women. Well, I've 'ad thirteen children, 
 an' you can think wot thet was ; every one I 'ad 
 I used ter sy I wouldn't 'ave no more but one 
 does, yer know. You'll 'ave a family some day, 
 Liza, an' I shouldn't wonder if you didn't 'ave 
 as many as me. We come from a very prodigal 
 family, we do, we've all gone in ter double
 
 Liza of Lambeth 197 
 
 ^^^^^^^^^ "~ ^~ -* *^^^^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^"^ ^^ 
 
 figures, except your Aunt Mary, who only 'ad 
 three but then she wasn't married, so it didn't 
 count, like." 
 
 They drank each other's health. Everything 
 was getting blurred to Liza; she was losing her 
 head. 
 
 "Yus," went on Mrs. Kemp, "I've 'ad thir- 
 teen children an' I'm proud of it. As your 
 poor dear father used ter sy, it shows as 'ow 
 one's got the blood of a Briton in one. Your 
 poor dear father, 'e was a great 'and at speak- 
 in', 'e was : 'e used ter speak at parliamentary 
 meetin's I really believe 'e'd 'ave been a 
 Member of Parliament if 'e'd been alive now. 
 Well, as I was sayin', your father 'e used ter 
 sy, 'None of your small families for me, I don't 
 approve of them,' says 'e. 'E was a man of 
 very 'igh principles, an' by politics 'e was a 
 Radical. 'No,' says 'e, when 'e got talkin', 
 'when a man can 'ave a family risin' into double 
 figures, it shows 'e's got the backbone of a 
 Briton in 'im. That's the stuff as 'as built up 
 England's nime an' glory! When one thinks 
 of the mighty British Hempire,' says 'e, 'on 
 which the sun never sets from mornin' till
 
 198 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 night, one 'as ter be proud of 'isself, an' one 
 'as ter do one's duty in thet walk of life in 
 which it 'as pleased Providence ter set one 
 an' every man's fust duty is ter get as many 
 children as 'e bloomin' well can.' Lord love 
 yer 'e could talk, I can tell yer." 
 
 "Drink up, mother," said Liza. "You're 
 not 'alf drinkin'." She flourished the bottle. 
 "I don't care a twopenny 'ang for all them 
 blokes; I'm quite 'appy, an' I don't want any- 
 thin' else." 
 
 "I can see you're my daughter now," said 
 Mrs. Kemp. "When yer used ter round on 
 me I used ter think as 'ow if I 'adn't carried 
 yer for nine months, it must 'ave been some 
 mistike, an' yer wasn't my daughter at all. 
 When you come ter think of it, a man 'e don't 
 know if it's 'is child or somebody else's, but yer 
 can't deceive a woman like thet. Yer couldn't 
 palm off somebody else's kid on 'er." 
 
 "I am beginnin' ter feel quite lively," said 
 Liza. "I dunno wot it is, but I feel as if I 
 wanted to laugh till I fairly split my sides." 
 
 And she began to sing, "For 'e's a jolly good 
 feller for 'e's a jolly good feller!"
 
 Liza of Lambeth 199 
 
 Her dress was all disarranged ; her face cov- 
 ered with the scars of scratches, and clots of 
 blood had fixed under her nose; her eye had 
 swollen up so that it was nearly closed, and 
 red; her hair was hanging over her face and 
 shoulders, and she laughed stupidly and leered 
 with heavy, sodden ugliness. 
 
 "Disy, Disy! I can't afford a kerrige, 
 But you'll look neat, on the seat 
 Of a bicycle mide for two." 
 
 She shouted out the tunes, beating time on 
 the table, and her mother, grinning, with her 
 thin, grey hair hanging dishevelled over her 
 head, joined in with her weak, cracked voice: 
 
 "Oh, dem golden kippers, oh!" 
 
 Then Liza grew more melancholy and broke 
 into "Auld Lang Syne." 
 
 "Should old acquaintance be forgot 
 And never brought to mind? 
 
 For old lang syne." 
 
 Finally they both grew silent, and in a little 
 while there came a snore from Mrs. Kemp;
 
 200 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 her head fell forward to her chest; Liza tum- 
 bled from her chair on to the bed, and sprawl- 
 ing across it fell asleep. 
 
 "Although I am drunk and bad, be you kind, 
 Cast a glance at this heart which is bewildered and 
 
 distressed. 
 God, take away from my mind my cry and my 
 
 complaint. 
 
 Offer wine, and take sorrow from my remembrance. 
 Offer wine!"
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 ABOUT the middle of the night Liza woke ; 
 her mouth was hot and dry, and a sharp, 
 cutting pain passed through her head as she 
 moved. Her mother had evidently roused 
 herself, for she was lying in bed by her side, 
 partially undressed, with all the bedclothes 
 rolled round her. Liza shivered in the cold 
 night, and taking off some of her things her 
 boots, her skirt, and jacket got right into 
 bed; she tried to get some of the blanket from 
 her mother, but as she pulled Mrs. Kemp gave 
 a growl in her sleep and drew the clothes more 
 tightly round her. So Liza put over herself 
 her skirt and a shawl, which was lying over 
 the end of the bed, and tried to go to sleep. 
 But she could not; her head and hands were 
 broiling hot, and she was terribly thirsty; when 
 she lifted herself up to get a drink of water 
 such a pang went through her head that she 
 
 fell back on the bed groaning, and lay there 
 
 201
 
 2O2 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 with beating heart. And strange pains that 
 she did not know, went through her. Then a 
 cold shiver seemed to rise in the very marrow 
 of her bones and run down every artery and 
 vein, freezing the blood ; her skin puckered up, 
 and drawing up her legs she lay huddled to- 
 gether in a heap, the shawl wrapped tightly 
 round her, and her teeth chattering. Shiver- 
 ing, she whispered : 
 
 "Oh, I'm so cold, so cold. Mother, give me 
 some clothes; I shall die of the cold. "Oh, I'm 
 freezing!" 
 
 But after a while the cold seemed to give 
 way, and a sudden heat seized her, flushing her 
 face, making her break out into perspiration, 
 so that she threw everything off and loosened 
 the things about her neck. 
 
 "Give us a drink," she said. "Oh, I'd give 
 anythin' for a little drop of water!" 
 
 There was no one to hear; Mrs. Kemp con- 
 tinued to sleep heavily, occasionally breaking 
 out into a little snore. 
 
 Liza remained there, now shivering with 
 cold, now panting for breath, listening to the 
 regular, heavy breathing by her side, and in
 
 Liza of Lambeth 203 
 
 her pain she sobbed. She pulled at her pillow 
 and said: 
 
 "Why can't I go to sleep? Why can't I 
 sleep like 'er?" 
 
 And the darkness was awful ; it was a heavy, 
 ghastly blackness, that seemed palpable, so 
 that it frightened her, and she looked for relief 
 at the faint light glimmering through the win- 
 dow from a distant street-lamp. She thought 
 the night would never end the minutes 
 seemed like hours, and she wondered how she 
 should live through till morning. And strange 
 pains that she did not know, went through her. 
 
 Still the night went on, the darkness con- 
 tinued, cold and horrible, and her mother 
 breathed loudly and steadily by her side. 
 
 At last with the morning sleep came; but 
 the sleep was almost worse than the wakeful- 
 ness, for it was accompanied by ugly, disturb- 
 ing dreams. Liza thought she was going 
 through the fight with her enemy, and Mrs. 
 Blakeston grew enormous in size, and multi- 
 plied, so that every way she turned the figure 
 confronted her. And she began running away, 
 and she ran and ran till she found herself
 
 204 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 reckoning up an account she had puzzled over 
 in the morning, and she did it backwards and 
 forwards, upwards and downwards, starting 
 here, starting there, and the figures got mixed 
 up with other things, and she had to begin over 
 again, and everything jumbled up, and her 
 head whirled, till finally, with a start, she woke. 
 
 The darkness had given way to a cold, grey 
 dawn, her uncovered legs were chilled to the 
 bone, and by her side she heard again the reg- 
 ular, nasal breathing of the drunkard. 
 
 For a long while she lay where she was, feel- 
 ing very sick and ill, but better than in the 
 night. At last her mother woke. 
 
 "Liza!" she called. 
 
 "Yus, mother," she answered, feebly. 
 
 "Git us a cup of tea, will yer?" 
 
 "I can't, mother, I'm ill." 
 
 "Garn!" said Mrs. Kemp, in surprise. Then 
 looking at her, "Swop me bob, wot's up with 
 yer? Why, yer cheeks is flushed, an' yer fore- 
 head it is 'ot! Wot's the matter with yer, 
 gal?" 
 
 "I dunno," said Liza. "I've been thet bad 
 all night, I thought I was goin' ter die."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 205 
 
 "I know wot it is," said Mrs. Kemp, shak- 
 ing her head; "the fact is, you ain't used ter 
 drinkin', an' of course it's upset yer. Now me, 
 why I'm as fresh as a disy. Tike my word, 
 there ain't no good in teetotalism; it finds yer 
 aht in the end, an' it's found you aht." 
 
 Mrs. Kemp considered it a judgment of 
 Providence. She got up and mixed some 
 whiskey and water. 
 
 " 'Ere, drink this," she said. "When one's 
 'ad a drop too much at night, there's nothin' 
 like havin' a drop more in the mornin' ter put 
 one right. It just acts like magic." 
 
 "Tike it awy," said Liza, turning from it in 
 disgust ; "the smell of it gives me the sick. I'll 
 never touch spirits again." 
 
 "Ah, thet's wot we all says sometime in our 
 lives, but we does, an' wot's more we can't do 
 withaht it. Why, me, the 'ard life I've 
 
 'ad " It is unnecessary to repeat Mrs. 
 
 Kemp's repetitions. 
 
 Liza did not get up all day. Tom came to 
 inquire after her, and was told she was very ill. 
 Liza plaintively asked whether any one else 
 had been, and sighed a little when her mother
 
 206 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 answered no. But she felt too ill to think 
 much or trouble much about anything. The 
 fever came again as the day wore on, and the 
 pains in her head grew worse. Her mother 
 came to bed, and quickly went off to sleep, 
 leaving Liza to bear her agony alone. She 
 began to have frightful pains all over her, and 
 she held her breath to prevent herself from 
 crying out and waking her mother. She 
 clutched the sheets in her agony, and at last, 
 about six o'clock in the morning, she could bear 
 it no longer, and in the anguish of labour 
 screamed out, and woke her mother. 
 
 Mrs. Kemp was frightened out of her wits. 
 Going upstairs she woke the woman who lived 
 on the floor above her. Without hesitating, 
 the good lady put on a skirt and came down. 
 "She's had a miss," she said, after looking 
 at Liza. "Is there any one you could send to 
 the 'orspital?" 
 
 "Na, I dunno 'oo I could get at this hour?" 
 "Well, I'll git my old man ter go." 
 She called her husband, and sent him off. 
 She was a stout, middle-aged woman, rough-
 
 Liza of Lambeth 207 
 
 visaged and strong-armed. Her name was 
 Mrs. Hodges. 
 
 "It's lucky you came ter me," she said, when 
 she had settled down. "I go aht nursin', yjsr 
 know, so I know all abaht it." 
 
 "Well, you surprise me," said Mrs. Kemp. 
 "I didn't know as Liza was that way. She 
 never told me nothin' abaht it." 
 
 "D'yer know 'oo it is 'as done it?" 
 
 "Now you ask me somethin' I don't know," 
 replied Mrs. Kemp. "But now I come ter 
 thing of it, it must be thet there Tom. 'E's 
 been keepin' company with Liza. 'E's a 
 single man, so they'll be able ter get married 
 that's somethin'." 
 
 "It ain't Tom," feebly said Liza. 
 
 "Not'im;'ooisit, then?" 
 
 Liza did not answer. 
 
 "Eh?" repeated the mother; " 'oo is it?" 
 
 Liza lay still without speaking. 
 
 "Never mind, Mrs. Kemp," said Mrs, 
 Hodges, "don't worry 'er now; you'll be able 
 ter find aht all abaht it when she gits better." 
 
 For a while the two women sat still, waiting 
 the doctor's coming, and Liza lay gazing va-
 
 208 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 cantly at the wall, panting for breath. Some- 
 times Jim crossed her mind, and she opened her 
 mouth to call for him but in her despair she 
 restrained herself. 
 The doctor came. 
 
 "D'you think she's bad, doctor?" asked Mrs. 
 Hodges. 
 
 "I'm afraid she is rather," he answered. 
 "I'll come in again this evening." 
 
 "Oh, doctor," said Mrs. Kemp, as he was 
 going, "could yer give me somethin' for my 
 rheumatics? I'm a martyr to rheumatism, an' 
 these cold days I 'ardly knows wot ter do with 
 myself. An' doctor, could you let me 'ave 
 some beef -tea? My 'usbind's dead, an' of 
 course I can't do no work with my daughter ill 
 like this, an' we're very short " 
 
 The day passed, and in the evening Mrs. 
 Hodges, who had been attending to her own 
 domestic duties, came downstairs again. Mrs. 
 Kemp was on the bed, sleeping. 
 
 "I was just 'avin' a little nap," she said to 
 Mrs. Hodges, on waking. 
 
 " 'Ow is the girl?" asked that lady. 
 
 "Oh," answered Mrs. Kemp, '"my rheu- 
 matics 'as been thet bad I really 'aven't known
 
 Liza of Lambeth 209 
 
 wot ter do with myself ; an' now Liza can't rub 
 me I'm worse than ever. It is unfortunate 
 thet she should get ill just now when I want 
 so much attendin' ter myself; but there, it's 
 just my luck!" 
 
 Mrs. Hodges went over and looked at Liza ; 
 she was lying just as when she left her in the 
 morning, her cheeks flushed, her mouth open 
 for breath, and tiny beads of sweat stood on 
 her forehead. 
 
 " 'Ow are yer, ducky?" asked Mrs. Hodges; 
 but Liza did not answer. 
 
 "It's my belief she's unconscious," said Mrs. 
 Kemp. "I've been askin' 'er 'oo it was as done 
 it, but she don't seem to 'ear wot I say. It's 
 been a great shock ter me, Mrs. 'Odges." 
 
 "I believe you," replied that lady, sympa- 
 thetically. 
 
 "Well, when you come in and said wot it 
 was, yer might 'ave knocked me dahn with a 
 feather. I knew no more than the dead wot 
 'ad 'appened." 
 
 "I saw at once wot it was," said Mrs. 
 Hodges, nodding her head. 
 
 "Yus, of course you knew; I expect you've
 
 2IO Liza of Lambeth 
 
 'ad a great deal of practice one way an' an- 
 other." 
 
 "You're right, Mrs. Kemp, you're right. 
 I've been on the job now for nearly twenty 
 years, an' if I don't know somethin' abaht it 
 I ought." 
 
 "D'yer find it pays well?" 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Kemp, tike it all in all, I ain't 
 got no grounds for complaint. I'm in the 'abit 
 of askin' five shillings, an' I will say this, I 
 don't think it's too much for wot I do." 
 
 The news of Liza's illness had quickly 
 spread, and more than once in the course of the 
 day a neighbour had come to ask after her. 
 There was a knock at the door now, and Mrs. 
 Hodges opened it. Tom stood on the 
 threshold asking to come in. 
 
 "Yus, you can come," said Mrs. Kemp. 
 
 He advanced on tiptoe, so as to make no 
 noise, and for a while stood silently looking at 
 Liza. Mrs. Hodges was by his side. 
 
 "Can I speak to 'er?" he whispered. 
 
 "She can't 'ear you." 
 
 He groaned. 
 
 "D'yer think she'll git arright?" he asked.
 
 Liza of Lambeth 211 
 
 Mrs. Hodges shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "I shouldn't like ter give an opinion," she 
 said, cautiously. 
 
 Tom bent over Liza, and, blushing, kissed 
 her; then, without speaking further, went out 
 of the room. 
 
 "Thet's the young man as was courtin' 'er," 
 said Mrs. Kemp, pointing over her shoulder 
 with her thumb. 
 
 Soon after the doctor came. 
 
 "Wot do yer think of 'er, doctor?" said Mrs. 
 Hodges, bustling forwards authoritatively in 
 her position of midwife and sick-nurse. 
 
 "I'm afraid she's very bad." 
 
 "D'yer think she's goin' ter die?" she asked, 
 dropping her voice to a whisper. 
 
 "I'm afraid so!" 
 
 As the doctor sat down by Liza's side Mrs. 
 Hodges turned round and significantly nodded 
 to Mrs. Kemp, who put her handkerchief to 
 her eyes. Then she went outside to the little 
 group waiting at the door. 
 
 "Wot does the doctor sy?" they asked, 
 among them Tom.
 
 212 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 " 'E says just what I've been sayin' all 
 along; I knew she wouldn't live." 
 
 And Tom burst out, "Oh, Liza!" 
 
 As she retired a woman remarked: 
 
 "Mrs. 'Odges is very clever, I think." 
 
 "Yus," remarked another, "she got me 
 through my last confinement simply wonder- 
 ful. If it come to choosin' between 'em I'd 
 back Mrs. 'Odges against forty doctors." 
 
 "Ter tell yer the truth, so would I. I've 
 never known 'er wrong yet." 
 
 Mrs. Hodges sat down beside Mrs. Kemp 
 and proceeded to comfort her. 
 
 "Why don't yer tike a little drop of brandy 
 ter calm yer nerves, Mrs. Kemp?" she said; 
 "you want it." 
 
 "I was just feelin' rather faint, an' I 
 couldn't 'elp thinkin' as 'ow twopenneth of 
 whiskey 'ud do me good." 
 
 "Na, Mrs. Kemp," said Mrs. Hodges, 
 earnestly, putting her hand on the other's 
 arm. "You tike my tip when you're queer 
 there's nothin' like brandy for pullin' yer to- 
 gither. I don't object to whiskey myself, but 
 as a medicine yer can't beat brandy."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 213 
 
 "Well, I won't set up myself as knowin' bet- 
 ter than you, Mrs. 'Odges; I'll do wot you 
 think right." 
 
 Quite accidentally there was some in the 
 room, and Mrs. Kemp poured it out for her- 
 self and her friend. 
 
 "I'm not in the 'abit of tikin' anythin' when 
 I'm aht on business," she apologised, "but just 
 ter keep you company I don't mind if I do." 
 
 "Your 'ealth, Mrs. 'Odges," 
 
 "Sime ter you, an' thank yer, Mrs. Kemp." 
 
 Liza lay still, breathing very quietly, her 
 eyes closed. The doctor kept his fingers on 
 her pulse. 
 
 "I've been very unfortunate of lite," re- 
 marked Mrs. Hodges, as she licked her lips; 
 "this mikes the second death I've 'ad in the last 
 ten days women, I mean; of course I don't 
 count bibies." 
 
 "Yer don't sy so." 
 
 "Of course the other one well, she was 
 only a prostitute, so it didn't so much matter. 
 It ain't like another woman, is it?" 
 
 "Na, you're right."
 
 214 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 "Still, one don't like 'em ter die, even if they 
 are thet. One mustn't be too 'ard on 'em." 
 
 "Strikes me you've got a very kind 'eart, 
 Mrs. 'Odges," said Mrs. Kemp. 
 
 "I 'ave thet; an' I often says it 'ud be better 
 for my peace of mind an' my business if I 
 'adn't. I 'ave ter go through a lot, I do; but 
 I can say this for myself, I always gives satis- 
 faction, an' thet's somethin' as all lidies in my 
 line can't say." 
 
 They sipped their brandy for a while. 
 
 "It's a great trial ter me that this should 
 'ave 'appened," said Mrs. Kemp, coming to 
 the subject that had been disturbing her for 
 some time. "Mine's always been a very re- 
 spectable family, an' such a thing as this 'as 
 never 'appened before. No, Mrs. 'Odges, I 
 was lawfully married in church, an' I've got 
 my marriage lines now ter show I was, an' 
 thet one of my daughters should 'ave gone 
 wrong in this way well, I can't understand 
 it. I give 'er a good education, an' she 'ad all 
 the comforts of a 'ome. She never wanted for 
 nothin' ; I worked myself to the bone ter keep
 
 Liza of Lambeth 215 
 
 'er in luxury, an' then thet she should go an' 
 disgrace me like this!" 
 
 "I understand wot yer mean, Mrs. Kemp." 
 
 "I can tell you my family was very respect- 
 able; an' my 'usbind, 'e earned twenty-five 
 shillings a week, an' was in the sime plice seven- 
 teen years; an' 'is employers sent a beautiful 
 wreath ter put on 'is coffin; an' they tell me 
 they never 'ad such a good workman an' sich 
 an' 'onest man before. An' me! Well, I can 
 sy this I've done by duty by the girl, an' 
 she's never learnt anythin' but good from me. 
 Of course I ain't always been in wot yer might 
 call flourishin' circumstances, but I've always 
 set her a good example, as she could tell yer so 
 'erself if she wasn't speechless." 
 
 Mrs. Kemp paused for a moment's reflec- 
 tion. 
 
 "As they sy in the Bible," she finished, "it's 
 enough ter mike one's grey 'airs go dahn into 
 the ground in sorrer. I can show yer my mar- 
 riage certificate. Of course one doesn't like ter 
 say much, because of course she's very bad ; but 
 it she got well I should 'ave given 'er a talkin' 
 ter."
 
 216 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 f^*^^^^*"""""*^^^^^^^^^^^^^^"^^^^^" '""""^^^^"^"^^^^^^^^'^ 
 
 There was another knock. 
 
 "Do go an' see 'oo thet is; I can't, on ac- 
 count of my rheumatics." 
 
 Mrs. Hodges opened the door. It was Jim. 
 
 He was very white, and the blackness of his 
 hair and beard, contrasting with the deathly 
 pallor of his face, made him look ghastly. Mrs. 
 Hodges stepped back. 
 
 " 'Go's *e?" she said, turning to Mrs. Kemp. 
 
 Jim pushed her aside and went up to the 
 bed. 
 
 "Doctor, is she very bad?" he asked. 
 
 The doctor looked at him questioningly. 
 
 Jim whispered: "It was me as done it. 
 She ain't goin' ter die, is she?" 
 
 The doctor nodded. 
 
 "O God! wot shall I do? It was my fault! 
 I wish I was dead!" 
 
 Jim took the girl's head in his hands, and 
 the tears burst from his eyes. 
 
 "She ain't dead yet, is she?" 
 
 "She's just living," said the doctor. 
 
 Jim bent down. 
 
 "Liza, Liza, speak ter me! Liza, say you 
 forgive me ! Oh, speak ter me !"
 
 Liza of Lambeth 217 
 
 His voice was full of agony. The doctor 
 spoke. 
 
 "She can't hear you." 
 
 "Oh, she must hear me! Liza! Liza!" 
 
 He sank on his knees by the bedside. 
 
 They all remained silent : Liza lying stiller 
 than ever, her breast unmoved by the feeble 
 respiration, Jim looking at her very mourn- 
 fully ; the doctor grave, with his fingers on the 
 pulse. The two women looked at Jim. 
 
 "Fancy it bein' 'im!" said Mrs. Kemp. 
 "Strike me lucky, ain't 'e a sight!" 
 
 "You 'ave got 'er insured, Mrs. Kemp?" 
 asked the midwife. She could bear the silence 
 no longer. 
 
 "Trust me fur thet!" replied the good lady. 
 "I've 'ad 'er insured ever since she was born. 
 Why, only the other dy I was sayin' te myself 
 thet all thet money 'ad been wisted, but you see 
 it wasn't ; yer never know yer luck, you see !" 
 
 "Quite right, Mrs. Kemp; I'm a rare one 
 for insurin'. It's a great thing. I've always 
 insured all my children." 
 
 "The way I look on it is this," said Mrs. 
 Kemp "wotever yer do when they're alive,
 
 2i8 Liza of Lambeth 
 
 ^ ^^" " *^^^"^^^ B ^^"^"^^ 
 
 an' we all know as children is very tryin' some- 
 times, you should give them a good funeral 
 when they dies. Thet's my motto, an' I've al- 
 ways acted up to it." 
 
 "Do yer deal with Mr. Stearman?" asked 
 Mrs. Hodges. 
 
 "No, Mrs. 'Odges, for undertikin' give me 
 Mr. Footley every time. In the black line Vs 
 fust an' the rest nowhere!" 
 
 "Well, thet's very strange now thet's just 
 wot I think. Mr. Footley does 'is work well, 
 an' 'e's very reasonable. I'm a very old cus- 
 tomer of 'is, an' 'e lets me 'ave things as cheap 
 as anybody." 
 
 "Does 'e indeed! Well, Mrs. 'Odges, if it 
 ain't askin' too much of yer, I should look upon 
 it as very kind if you'd go an' mike the arrange- 
 ments for Liza." 
 
 "Why, certainly, Mrs. Kemp. I'm always 
 willin' ter do a good turn to anybody, if I 
 
 "I want it done very respectable," said Mrs. 
 Kemp; "I'm not goin' ter stint for nothin' for 
 my daughter's funeral. I like plumes, you 
 know, although they is a bit extra."
 
 Liza of Lambeth 219 
 
 "Never you fear, Mrs. Kemp, it shall be 
 done as well as if it was for my own 'usbind, an* 
 I can't say more than thet. Mr. Footley 
 thinks a deal of me, 'e does! Why, only 
 the other dy as I was goin' inter 'is shop, 'e 
 says, 'Good mornin', Mrs. 'Odges.' 'Good 
 mornin', Mr. Footley,' says I. 'You've jest 
 come in the nick of time,' says 'e. 'This gentle- 
 man an' myself,' pointing to another gentle- 
 man as was standin' there, 'we was 'avin' a bit 
 of an argument. Now you're a very intelli- 
 gent woman, Mrs. 'Odges, and a good cus- 
 tomer, too.' 'I can say thet for myself,' says 
 I, 'I gives yer all the work I can.' 'I believe 
 you,' says 'e. 'Well,' 'e says, 'now which do 
 you think? Does hoak look better than helm, 
 or does helm look better than hoak? Hoak 
 versus helm, thet's the question.' 'Well, Mr- 
 Footley,' says I, 'for my own private opinion, 
 when you've got a nice brass plite in the mid- 
 dle, an' nice brass 'andles each end, there's 
 nothin' like hoak.' 'Quite right,' says 'e, 'thet's 
 wot I think; for coffins give me hoak any day, 
 an' I 'ope,' says 'e, 'when the Lord sees fit ter
 
 22O Liza of Lambeth 
 
 call me to 'imself, I shall be put in a hoak cof- 
 fin myself.' 'Amen/ says I." 
 
 "I like hoak," said Mrs. Kemp. "My poor 
 'usbind 'e 'ad a hoak coffin. We did 'ave a job 
 with 'im, I can tell yer. You know 'e 'ad 
 dropsy, an' 'e swell up oh, 'e did swell; 'is 
 own mother wouldn't 'ave known 'im. Why, 
 'is leg swell up till it was as big round as 'is 
 body, swop me bob, it did." 
 
 "Did it indeed!" ejaculated Mrs. Hodges. 
 
 "Yus, an' when 'e died they sent the coffin 
 up. I didn't 'ave Mr. Footley at thet time ; we 
 didn't live 'ere then, we lived in Batter sea, an' 
 all our undertikin' was done by Mr. Brownin' ; 
 well, 'e sent the coffin up, an' we got my old 
 man in, but we couldn't get the lid down, he 
 was so swell up. Well, Mr. Brownin', 'e was a 
 great big man, thirteen stone if 'e was a ounce. 
 Well, 'e stood on the coffin, an' a young man 'e 
 'ad with 'im stood on it too, an' the lid simply 
 wouldn't go dahn; so Mr. Brownin', 'e said, 
 'Jump on missus,' so I was in my widow's 
 weeds, yer know, but we 'ad ter git it dahn, so 
 I stood on it, an' we all jumped, an' at last
 
 Liza of Lambeth 221 
 
 we got it to, an' screwed it; but, lor', we did 
 'ave a job; I shall never forget it." 
 
 Then all was silence. And a heaviness 
 seemed to fill the air like a grey blight, cold 
 and suffocating; and the heaviness was Death. 
 They felt the presence in the room, and they 
 dared not move, they dared not draw their 
 breath. The silence was terrifying. 
 
 Suddenly a sound was heard a loud rat- 
 tle. It came from the bed and rang through 
 the room, piercing the stillness. 
 
 The doctor opened one of Liza's eyes and 
 touched it, then he laid on her breast the hand 
 he had been holding, and drew the sheet over 
 her head. 
 
 Jim turned away with a look of intense 
 weariness on his face, and the two women be- 
 gan weeping silently. The darkness was sink- 
 ing before the day, and a dim, grey light came 
 through the window. The lamp spluttered 
 out. 
 
 THE END.
 
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