My Friend Smith

"Is there? Then it must be so. Larkins, you'd better not stand too near, I'm afraid I've smallpox!"

Larkins's face grew alarmed, and his jaw dropped. "What! Smallpox?

Oh, I say, Batchelor, I hope not. It looks more like as if you'd been fighting."

"That's the smallpox coming on," I said, mournfully; "I'm sure!"

"Perhaps I'd better go," said Larkins, making for the door. "I'll tell them at your office," and with that he bolted suddenly.

It rather pleased me to imagine the sensation which his news would occasion not only down stairs among Mrs Nash's lodgers, but also at the office. I could hear the sound of eager voices below, followed by what I fancied was the hurried stampede of the company from the house. Then presently Mrs Nash's foot sounded on the stairs, and she opened the door.

"Have you had it, Mrs Nash?" I cried, as she appeared.

She made no answer, but walked up straight to my bed. "What's all this nonsense about?" she demanded.

"I'm afraid it's smallpox. I'm so sorry on your account," I said, quite meekly. "I sort of felt it coming on some days," I added, quite convinced in my own mind it had been so.

To my astonishment, the good lady expressed neither surprise nor sympathy. "Fiddlesticks!" said she. "Come, get up!"

"Get up?" I cried, in astonishment. "I can't possibly, Mrs Nash. I tried just now, and couldn't stand!"

"Stuff and nonsense! You ought to be ashamed of yourself going and fighting with a parcel of young roughs over night, and then shamming illness in the morning because you daren't show your black eyes to the governors! Come, you don't get round me with any of your nonsense! Up you get, or I'll start and sweep out the room before you're dressed!"

It was in vain I protested and pleaded. I had to rise, and, dizzy and sick as I felt, to huddle on my clothes and go down stairs, utterly horrified at such inhuman treatment. Mrs Nash even expected, now I was up, I should go to the office; but this I positively declared I could not do, and was therefore permitted to make myself as comfortable as I could in the cheerless parlour, and there wait for the further development of my malady.

Towards mid-day I began to feel hungry, but dared not ask Mrs Nash for anything; it would be so unlike an invalid. But I rang the bell and implored her to send for a doctor, which she finally promised to do.

In the interval I began to feel more and more like myself. It was very aggravating, to be sure! Unless he came quickly the doctor would hardly think me ill at all. And yet I _must_ be ill, even though it cost an effort!

When the doctor did arrive I did my best, by putting on a pained expression of countenance, by breathing rather hard and closing my eyes occasionally, to make him feel he had not come for nothing. But somehow I didn't quite succeed. He smiled pleasantly as he just touched my pulse, and gave a single glance at my protruded tongue.

"There's nothing wrong with him, except

"But what about--about the smallpox?" I inquired, forgetting that during the last speech I had been lying with my eyes closed, apparently unconscious.

The doctor laughed noisily, and Mrs Nash joined in the chorus.

"We'll see about him when we catch him, my young fighting-c.o.c.k," replied he, and then went.

Then I hadn't really got it! A nice fool I had made of myself! Larkins had, of course, announced it to all the lodgers at Mrs Nash's, to my employers and fellow-clerks, and here was I all the while as right as a trivet, with nothing but a bruised face and an empty stomach afflicting me. Was ever luck like mine?

I took care to be in bed before the fellows got home that evening, but as I lay awake I could hear their laughter down stairs, and it was not hard to guess what it was about. Larkins came up to my room.

"You're a nice fellow, Batchelor," said he, laughing, "telling me it was smallpox! You gave me such a fright. I told all the fellows, and at your office, and you should have seen how blue they all looked. What a sell it will be when you turn up all serene." This was pleasant.

"You'd better not be too sure," I said, still clinging to my ailment.

"It may be it after all. The doctor said I was to go to bed early to- night and keep quite quiet. I'd advise you not to stay in the room, Larkins."

"Oh, all right, good-night," said Larkins, going to the door.

I heard him whistling merrily down the stairs, and felt still more uncomfortable. However, merciful sleep ended my troubles for a season.

I slept like a top all that night, and woke next morning as fresh and well as I had ever been in all my life. The only thing wrong with me was the colour of my face. That was certainly rather brilliant. I had to endure a regular broadside of quizzing from my fellow-lodgers that morning at breakfast, which certainly did not tend to cheer me up in the prospect of presenting myself shortly at Hawk Street. I would fain have been spared that ceremony!

There arrived, as I was starting out, a hurried line from Mrs s.h.i.+eld, announcing that Jack was "much the same," which of course meant he was still very ill.

Poor Jack! I had been so taken up with my own fancied ailment that I had scarcely thought of him. As it was I could hardly realise that he was so very ill.

Little had we imagined that evening when he caught up the half-murdered urchin in his arms and carried him to our lodgings what the result of that act would be to one of us! And yet, if it were to do again, I fancied my friend Smith would do it again, whatever it cost. But to think of his being so ill, possibly losing his life, all for a graceless young vagabond who--

"Clean 'e boots, do y' hear, clean 'e boots, sir?"

Looking towards the sound, I saw the very object of my thoughts in front of me. He was clad in a tattered old tail coat, and trousers twice the size of his little legs. His head and feet were bare, and there seemed little enough semblance of a s.h.i.+rt. Altogether it was the most "scarecrowy" apparition I ever came across.

"s.h.i.+ne 'e boots, master?" he cried, flouris.h.i.+ng a blacking-brush in either hand, and standing across my path.

I stopped short, and answered solemnly, "Where's that sixpence you stole out of my pocket, you young thief?"

I expected he would be overawed and conscience-stricken by the sudden accusation. But instead of that he fired up with the most virtuous indignation.

"What do yer mean, young thief? I ain't a-goin'--Oh, my Jemimer, it's one of them two flats. Oh, here's a go! s.h.i.+ne 'e boots, mister?"

There were certainly very few signs of penitence about this queer boy.

This was pleasant, certainly. Not only robbed, but laughed at by the thief, a little mite of a fellow like this!

"I've a great mind to call a policeman and give you in charge," said I.

He must have seen that I was not in earnest, for he replied, gaily, "No, yer don't. Ef yer do, I'll run yer in for prize-fightin', so now."

"How much do you earn by blacking boots?" I asked, feeling an involuntary interest in this strange gutter lad.

"Some days I gets a tanner. But, bless you, I ain't a brigade bloke. I say, though, where's t'other flat; 'im with the eyes?"

"He's away ill," I said. "He's got smallpox, and says he believes he caught it from you."

"Get 'long!" replied the boy.

"Well, most likely it was in the court where you live."

"You can take your davy of that," replied the boy; "there's plenty of 'im there."

"Have you had it?"

"In corse I 'ave. I say, 'ave yer seen the old gal about?"

"Your mother? No. Why?"

"On'y she's a-missin', that's all; but there, she allers turns up, she does, and wipes me to-rights, too."

"She was nearly killing you the night we saw you," said I.