Margaret
By C. S.
THE street was feebly lighted, but by the glare from the public-
house at
the corner I could see her coming towards me,
holding a jug in one hand and
running the other along the
railings in front of the houses as a boy does a
stick. She walked
swiftly but cautiously, and rather as if measuring a
distance by
counting the paces. As I came nearer, she shrank against
the
railings, and almost stopped ; but as soon as I had passed she
went
on again more quickly than before. She must have heard me stop
to
look after her ; for she paused for a moment, and turned her head
as if
listening, and then glided on through the darkness into the
glare ; and as
she went into the public-house I caught sight of a
tangle of heavy golden
hair hanging down her back.
Presently she came back, keeping close to the houses as before,
and in front
of one of them about half-way down the street she
stopped, and passed her
hand along the tops of the railings as if
feeling for something. She seemed
satisfied, and pushing open
the area gate went down the steps. ” Is that
you, Maggie ? “
cried a woman’s voice—and a flood of light came up
from the
area. A door was hastily slammed, and all was dark again ;
but
as I passed the house I noticed that the spike on the top of one
of
the railings was missing.
* * * * *
As
As I came round the corner by the public-house, I heard a
hoarse shouting
and clashing of pewter pots ; and looking in
through the ill-fitting flap
doors, I saw a confused crowd of dirty,
greasy men, straggling to get near
the counter. I walked on more
quickly down the street, hoping to be in
time.
” Stop,” I cried suddenly to the little figure creeping along by
the houses.
” You mustn’t go there to-night. Stay here and
give me the jug, and I’ll
bring the beer back to you.”
She started, and caught hold of the railings with one hand.
” Who are you ?
” she said, turning a pair of curiously dull eyes
towards me.
” Come,” said I, ” stay here ; I’ll tell you all about that when I
come back
; ” and I took hold of the jug.
” Why shouldn’t I get it to-night ? I go nearly every night,
and often
during the day as well ; I know the way—and it isn’t
far.”
” It’s full of drunken men,” I said ; ” you’d better stay here.”
She gave up the jug and leant listlessly against the railings,
keeping her
eyes on the ground.
” Don’t be long please ; they re waiting for me at home. It’s
the first door
on the left, and there’s ‘ Jug and Bottle Entrance ‘
on the glass in raised
letters.”
” This is an empty house,” I said ; ” you can sit on the steps
while I’m
gone.”
When I came back I found her standing by the door with one
hand on the
bell-handle.
” Did you say this house was empty ? ” she asked, as I held
out the beer
jug.
” Yes,” I answered, glancing at the dirty windows in which
bills were posted
; ” but why ? ”
” Because I’ve been ringing the bell all the time you’ve been
away,
away, for fun ; and because I don’t like being left all alone in the
dark
street.”
” You queer child ! Besides it isn’t dark a bit here—there’s
a lovely
moon.”
She gave a little shiver, and was silent.
” Why don’t you take your beer ? ” and I offered her the jug
once more.
She groped towards me and put her hands on my shoulders
turning those large
dull eyes up to mine.
” Can’t you see I’m blind ? ” said she impatiently.
* * * * *
” It’s rather wet to sit here to-night “—and I looked doubtfully
at
the doorway up which the wind blew the rain in gusts.
She sat down on the
top step, and spread her dress over the damp
stone.
” Sit down here ; we can lean against the pillar and be as dry as
anything.”
” How did you know there was a pillar ? “
She pouted contemptuously. ” Do you think I haven’t my
ways of seeing as
well as you ? I could describe this street much
better than you for all
your wonderful sight ; besides, I found out
all about this particular
doorway that night when you first went
and got the beer.”
” Mind the jug ! ” I cried ; but I was too late ; for with a
sweep of her
arm the jug toppled over, and the beer rushed down
the steps across the
pavement into the gutter. She bit her lip.
” Now don’t crow over me : it
doesn’t follow that I shouldn’t
have done it even if I could see.”
I kissed her forehead lightly.
” Never mind, dear heart ; sit still. I won’t be long getting
some
more.”
“How
” How aunt would have abused poor Maggie if she hadn’t had
her beer,” she
remarked, as I sat down again after putting the jug
against the door for
safety.
” I shan’t call you Maggie, as they call you that at home. I
shall call you
Margaret—Margaret with the glorious hair.”
” Do you think it’s really pretty—very pretty I mean ? ” she
asked.
” Pretty,” I echoed ; ” why it’s the most wonderful and
beautiful thing I
have ever seen.”
She gave a nervous little laugh, and shook her head so that her
face was
hidden in masses of gold.
” I wish I could see it : I can only feel it and know I have
plenty of it ;
” and she frisked her head round so that the warm
waves of colour rippled
down my coat into my lap. ” You may
cut a little piece off if you like,”
she added with a sigh. I got out
a pair of pocket scissors, and she folded
her hands before her.
” You may take one skein ; and mind you don’t cut it off too
near my head
and leave an ugly gap with a stump at the top.”
I put my hands gently under the soft warm hair, and choosing
a strand rather
darker than the rest cut a piece off the end.
” Let me feel it,” she said—and I put the wisp into her hand.
She nodded contentedly and began fumbling at one of her
stockings. I heard a
snap, and presently she gave me a long
cotton thread with which I tied the
hair while she held it at each
end.
” Aunt talks about giving up the house,” she said, jerking her
head in the
direction of her home ; ” the lodgings don’t pay much,
and I heard her say
that if she did she’d have to try and get me
into some place for blind
people—an asylum or something. Isn’t
it horrible ? ”
” Fancy shutting a sweet little golden darling like you up in
an
an asylum ! ” I cried : ” it makes me sick to think of it.” And
catching her
in my arms I pulled her back, and covered her face
and neck and hair with
kisses.
” Good-night, little golden thing,” I said as she got up to go :
” I shall
come to-morrow as usual.” And I put the jug into her
hand, and set her by
the railings.
“Take care of that little piece of my hair,” she called ; and I
watched her
gliding by the houses till she vanished down the area
of her home.
* * * * *
But alas ! It was fully a fortnight before I was able to visit
the doorway
again, and after waiting there in vain for some time
I walked down the
deserted street to the house where the spike
was missing from the top of
one of the railings.
The windows were quite dark, and on the door just above the
letter-box was a
piece of paper freshly pasted on. I went up the
steps and struck a match
and read :
“TO LET
FOR KEYS APPLY No. 3 NEWLAND STREET.”
I walked slowly back till I came to the empty house. The
sight of the
familiar doorway was too much for me, and sitting
down I leant against the
pillar and gave way to my grief.
MLA citation:
C. S. [Arthur Cosslett Smith]. “Margaret.” The Yellow Book, vol. 4, January 1895, pp. 147-151. Yellow Book Digital Edition, edited by Dennis Denisoff and Lorraine Janzen Kooistra, 2010-2014. Yellow Nineties 2.0, Ryerson University Centre for Digital Humanities, 2019. https://1890s.ca/YBV4_cs_margaret/