Jim looked up. ''Oo the devil are you?' he said.
'Leave off, I tell yer. Aren't yer ashimed 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 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!'
'Nothin'.'
'Garn! Yer can't 'ave got a fice like thet all by itself.'
'I 'ad 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 for 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 taking out the cork smelt it. 'Thet's good stuff, none of your firewater or your methylated 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 whisky 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 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 utterly unhappy as before, for the things she had gone through seemed further away.
'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 reminding 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 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; everyone 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 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 thirteen 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 speakin' '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 and glory! When one thinks of the mighty British Hempire," says 'e, "on which the sun never sets from mornin' till 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 twopanny 'ang for all them blokes; I'm quite 'appy, an' I don't want anythin' 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.'