Liza--a Sketch

She was a thin slip of a girl, with palé, saJlow cheeks and a figure as fraguo as the flowers she carried in her basket. It was her eyes and her hands whioh marked her off from the commou herd. Had these been of regulation pattern, there woald have been nothing to distinguish her from any dozen of heroompanions. But her eyes, which were brown in color, were largo and lustrous and had a provoking habit of drooping the lashes when she Jooked at one. Whether calculated coquetry or native boni manner chiefly concerned wonld have puzzled au expert to decide. That it was "fetching" few men wonJd have ventnred to deny. Her hand, sinall and ■weJl shaped, boasted the taper fingers aud filbert uails generally, associated with birth and breeding. She sold flowers in Cheapside. Her station was the steps of the Peel statue, and every morning, week in and week out, as the clocks of the city were striking 10 she would deposit her basket at the foot of the column and prepare fox the business of the day. Prora 10 to 6 she plied her wares diligeiitly, pusliing the sale with all the tact which a life's experience had taught her and all the wiles which a woman's wit could suggest. But each evening, when the weary city was fast emptying and the bell of the great cathedral was still echoing overhead, her eye would sweep the long length of crowded asphalt with eearching glances, aud as she scanned tlie teeming multitude pouring westward a spot of crimson would suddeuly show in the wan, white cheeka and the dark brown orbs would flash aud kindie with a curious mystic light. Ho always contrived to bo in Cheapside betweeu G and 6 :30. It was their custoni to walk together down Queen Victoria streettoBlaokfriars bridge. At this point they separated - she crossing to the Surrey side, he taking a "turn" through Pleet Btreet aud the Strand before following in the saine direction. They had commenced the practice in midwinter, had continued it throughout the spring, aud now they had reached luidsummer. From afar she could distinguish his barrow among tho throng of vehicles which iillcd the thoroughfare. When he had "doubled" the corner and got into the compara t i ve "slack water" of the ohnrohyard, shc crossed over and ioined him. A noel that was alruost imperceptible, answered by a sruile that was bright aud suuiiy, was all the rccognition that passed between them. The girl's glance wandered involuntarily to the barrow. It was the season for cherries, and she noticed the long array of einpty baskets. "Beeu 'aviu a good day, Joe, ain't yer?" "Middlinlike." "W'y y'ain't on'y one 'molly' left. " "P'raps I beeu givin 'em away. " The tone was unmistakably snrly. For the next 30 yards they walked on in silence, the girl watching the rnan furtively, the man pushing the barrow languidly arid staring strenuously at nothiug. "Ha' yet thorton wot I tole yer?" he said presently, as the girl stepped off the pavement to avoid collision with a pareéis boy. Tho light that had lightened them died out of her eyes, the color which had come into her cheeks forsook them, her mouthgrew hard, and her face lost at once its youth and animation. The man continned to stare into vacaney and walk mechanically after his barrow. "I can't do nt, Joe. I can't do nt. I am't got no rest these tvvo nights- but 1 cairt do nt. " The words came with difficulty and the voice palpitated with ernotiou. The man shrugged his shoulders impatiently. "Wot's the good uv 'im, eh? A dod'rin ole lnnatic. Wot's the use uv im ter anybody? He orter been dead years ago. " "He's me father, Joe, " she murnnired reproaohfully. "Father be blowed! He's dun a lot feryer, ain't ho? ï:ort ter feel proud uv 'im, didn't yer? Pinchin his gal's money - drinkin till he's got the 'devils' an talkin 'tommy rot' 'bout bein a genelman an the son uv a genelman. W'y he ain't got no more deoency 'an a pig. When he cau't gorge hisself no Jonger, a pig 'ill lie in the swill trough, an when your genelman father's had a skinful he'll snoie by thehour 'longside a quart pot." He stole a glance at the girl out of the corner of hiseye. Thebusy, bustling life of London eddied round them ; the roar of the great Babylou was in their 1 earn ; but not Strephon aud Chloris in the sweat secJasion of idyllic lanes could have been more oblivious to the passing moment than this p;iir of city lovers in the hot and crowded streets. "P'raps he ain't as good as he might be. But there's wnss about, au - he warn't ahvays so, Joe. " "Oh, if you hkes to put up vviv' 'im, 'Liza, so do! 'Tain't no concern o' mine - is it?" he added moodily. "I can't sen' 'im to the worktis, .Toe. " "But ver can sen' me to the devil!'1 he snapped sharply, and an ugly look leaped out of his eyes. They passed under the railway bridge which spans the lower end of Queen Victoria street and reached the point where they usually parted. The girl stopped, but the man went on. "Aren't yer goiu ter sell out, Joe?" she queried timidly as he turned in the direction of the river, "Wotfor?" The tone and the manner puzzled her more than the words. For a moment they stood confronting each other, the face of the man working convulsively and tire girl 's features contracted with pain. Blackfriars bridge was crossed in silence. Turning into Stamford street she vvhispered hoarsely: "I'm sorry for yer, Joe; but if it's hard on yer it's rough ou me. Anything as yer ars'd me to do, Joe - anything as I cud do o' meself Jike I - I'd do nt, mate, without sayin why j or wherefore. But sen' the ole man to , the workus - I can 't do that, ]ad. I know yer think I orter, but Ican't, Joe - I can't do ut." "A pretty fooi yer made o' ine now, aiu't yer? I giv' up the booze an cut tommies w'en I tuk up wiv yer, 'Liza, but ye'd see me at blazes suner 'an giv' up that druoken ole wagabone wot lives on yer, an perwents yer havin a man as ud be good to yer. " "Itud break me heart, Joe, ter 'ave 'im die in the workus. " ' "yer thinks a bloomin sightmore uv a wrong un than yer does uv a right un, " said the man savagely. She gave him a look whichmust have convinced him of his error, but blinded by passion he refused to see. "Well," he snarled, "one of uz 'as got ter scoot - him or me. There ain't room f er two. " The girl made noreply and they vcent on. But silence was too oppressive and stifling. Near Waterloo statiou the mau spoke again. "How mueh yer tuk, 'Liza?" The question was abrupt, but the ' toue was friendly. It indicatedachange of feeling. "Seving an three. " He extended his hand. She put the money into it without a word. "Meet me at the Garding in the mornin, 'Liza, aud I'll stock the baskit foryer, " said he, returuing her ninepenoe. It was a curious transaction, but the explanation was probably to befound in the despairing utterance of the woman. "He:s 'ad 'em awful bad agen, Joe. Lars night it wur that dreadful" - She stopped, warned by the cloud that was sweeping up over her companion's brow. The man's counteuance had suddenly darkened, sparks from the nether fires danoed in his eyes, the old, hard, vindictive look had returned. "I wish he may die. I wish he wur dead!" he inuttered fiercely. "Oh, Joe, Joe, if yer loveme, dun say thim words," entreated the girl. "I says 'eni cos I loves yer; cos it's on'y 'im wot's a keepinyer fruía a man as wants ter make a 'appy woman uv yer. I says 'era cos I means 'em. No 'fense ter yer, 'Liza." "Y'ain't abad sort, Joe, " said the girl, turning her swimming eyes full on him, "but yer a bit down on the ole man. ': He gave the barrow an unnecessarily vigorous shove. "I'ra goin inter the 'Cut,' 'Liza, ter finish. No. I ain't dun so dusty" - answering the question the girl had put to him half an hour bef ore. "I started out wiv a dozen, an this yere's th' on'y oneleff. " He eniptied the oontents of tho basket on the board. "Ishall knock 'em in the 'Cut' at freppence. 'Taiu't orfen they seecherrieslike them in New Cut. They're city fruit, they are. Try 'em. " He filled a bag and gave it to her. "PU look roun after I clear out. " As he walked away his eyes followed her. "She thinks a bloomin sight too much, 6he do, o' that dmckeu ole scarap, her father," he growled, staring after the retreating figure, "but I aiu't all a fooi, mate. Grit's wuth gold." In the third pair back of a tenement house in Lambeth a ghi was kneeling by the side of a bed. A paper bag was lyiug on the coverlet, and some cherries had fallen on the floor. On the bed lay i the body of a man. The room reeked with the fumes of whisky. The long, lithe fingers of the girl's right hand were clasped convulsively round the hand of the motiouless figure extended on the bed. "Joel" she moaned. "Joe, lad, ye've ! got ycr wish. The ole man'll never rile yer any more. I love yer, mate, dearer than life, but it's thim Words o' youru as I shall hear, an not parson's, on the day yer takes me inter church. " - St. Jamss Budget.