"Things 'AS to be finished," she said."They finish theirselves.""How do you know?" Dart turned on her.
"Dunno 'OW I know--but I do.
When things begin they finish.It's like a wheel rollin' down an 'ill."Her sharp eyes fixed themselves on Dart's."All of us 'll finish somethin'--'cos we've begun.You will --Polly will--'e will--I will."She stopped with a sudden sheepish chuckle and dropped her forehead on her knees, giggling."Dunno wot I 'm talking about," she said, "but it's true."Dart began to understand that it was.And he also saw that this ragged thing who knew nothing whatever, looked out on the world with the eyes of a seer, though she was ignorant of the meaning of her own knowledge.It was a weird thing.He turned to the girl Polly.
"Tell me how you came here,"
he said.
He spoke in a low voice and gently.He did not want to frighten her, but he wanted to know how SHEhad begun.When she lifted her childish eyes to his, her chin began to shake.For some reason she did not question his right to ask what he would.She answered him meekly, as her fingers fumbled with the stuff of her dress.
"I lived in the country with my mother," she said."We was very happy together.In the spring there was primroses and--and lambs.I--can't abide to look at the sheep in the park these days.They remind me so.There was a girl in the village got a place in town and came back and told us all about it.
It made me silly.I wanted to come here, too.I--I came--"She put her arm over her face and began to sob.
"She can't tell you," said Glad.
"There was a swell in the 'ouse made love to her.She used to carry up coals to 'is parlor an' 'e talked to 'er.'E 'ad a wye with 'im--"Polly broke into a smothered wail.
"Oh, I did love him so--I did!"
she cried."I'd have let him walk over me.I'd have let him kill me."" 'E nearly did it," said Glad.
" 'E went away sudden an' she 's never 'eard word of 'im since."From under Polly's face-hiding arm came broken words.
"I couldn't tell my mother.I did not know how.I was too frightened and ashamed.Now it's too late.I shall never see my mother again, and it seems as if all the lambs and primroses in the world was dead.
Oh, they're dead--they're dead--
and I wish I was, too!"
Glad's eyes winked rapidly and she gave a hoarse little cough to clear her throat.Her arms still clasping her knees, she hitched herself closer to the girl and gave her a nudge with her elbow.
"Buck up, Polly," she said, "we ain't none of us finished yet.Look at us now--sittin' by our own fire with bread and puddin' inside us--an' think wot we was this mornin'.
Who knows wot we 'll 'ave this time to-morrer."Then she stopped and looked with a wide grin at Antony Dart.
"Ow did I come 'ere?" she said.
"Yes," he answered, "how did you come here?""I dunno," she said; "I was 'ere first thing I remember.I lived with a old woman in another 'ouse in the court.One mornin' when I woke up she was dead.Sometimes I've begged an' sold matches.Sometimes I've took care of women's children or 'elped 'em when they 'ad to lie up.
I've seen a lot--but I like to see a lot.'Ope I'll see a lot more afore I'm done.I'm used to bein' 'ungry an' cold, an' all that, but--but Iallers like to see what's comin' to-
morrer.There's allers somethin'
else to-morrer.That's all about ME," and she chuckled again.
Dart picked up some fresh sticks and threw them on the fire.There was some fine crackling and a new flame leaped up.
"If you could do what you liked,"
he said, "what would you like to do?"
Her chuckle became an outright laugh.
"If I 'ad ten pounds?" she asked, evidently prepared to adjust herself in imagination to any form of un-looked-for good luck.
"If you had more?"
His tone made the thief lift his head to look at him.
"If I 'ad a wand like the one Jem told me was in the pantermine?""Yes," he answered.
She sat and stared at the fire a few moments, and then began to speak in a low luxuriating voice.
"I'd get a better room," she said, revelling."There 's one in the next 'ouse.I'd 'ave a few sticks o'
furnisher in it--a bed an' a chair or two.I'd get some warm petticuts an' a shawl an' a 'at--with a ostrich feather in it.Polly an'
me 'd live together.We'd 'ave fire an' grub every day.I'd get drunken Bet's biby put in an 'ome.
I'd 'elp the women when they 'ad to lie up.I'd--I'd 'elp 'IM a bit,"with a jerk of her elbow toward the thief."If 'e was kept fed p'r'aps 'e could work out that thing in 'is 'ead.
I'd go round the court an' 'elp them with 'usbands that knocks 'em about.
I'd--I'd put a stop to the knockin'
about," a queer fixed look showing itself in her eyes."If I 'ad money I could do it.'Ow much," with sudden prudence, "could a body 'ave --with one o' them wands?""More than enough to do all you have spoken of," answered Dart.
"It 's a shime a body couldn't 'ave it.Apple Blossom Court 'd be a different thing.It'd be the sime as Miss Montaubyn says it's goin' to be." She laughed again, this time as if remembering something fantastic, but not despicable.
"Who is Miss Montaubyn?"
"She 's a' old woman as lives next floor below.When she was young she was pretty an' used to dance in the 'alls.Drunken Bet says she was one o' the wust.When she got old it made 'er mad an' she got wusser.
She was ready to tear gals eyes out, an' when she'd get took for makin'
a row she'd fight like a tiger cat.
About a year ago she tumbled downstairs when she'd 'ad too much an'
she broke both 'er legs.You remember, Polly?"Polly hid her face in her hands.
"Oh, when they took her away to the hospital!" she shuddered."Oh, when they lifted her up to carry her!""I thought Polly 'd 'ave a fit when she 'eard 'er screamin' an' swearin'.
My! it was langwich! But it was the 'orspitle did it.""Did what?"
"Dunno," with an uncertain, even slightly awed laugh."Dunno wot it did--neither does nobody else, but somethin' 'appened.It was along of a lidy as come in one day an' talked to 'er when she was lyin'
