Chapter 5

THE GIRL WITH TWO MOTHERS

Elspeth at last did something to win Tommy's respect; she fell ill of an
ailment called in Thrums the croop. When Tommy first heard his mother
call it croop, he thought she was merely humoring Elspeth, and that it
was nothing more distinguished than London whooping-cough, but on
learning that it was genuine croop, he began to survey the ambitious
little creature with a new interest.

This was well for Elspeth, as she had now to spend most of the day at
home with him, their mother, whose health was failing through frequent
attacks of bronchitis, being no longer able to carry her through the
streets. Of course Elspeth took to repaying his attentions by loving
him, and he soon suspected it, and then gloomily admitted it to himself,
but never to Shovel. Being but an Englishman, Shovel saw no reason why
relatives should conceal their affection for each other, but he played
on this Scottish weakness of Tommy's with cruel enjoyment.

"She's fond on yer!" he would say severely.

"You's a liar."

"Gar long! I believe as you're fond on her!"

"You jest take care, Shovel."

"Ain't yer?"

"Na-o!"

"Will yer swear?"

"So I will swear."

"Let's hear yer."

"Dagont!"

So for a time the truth was kept hidden, and Shovel retired, casting
aspersions, and offering to eat all the hair on Elspeth's head for a
penny.

This hair was white at present, which made Tommy uneasy about her
future, but on the whole he thought he might make something of her if
she was only longer. Sometimes he stretched her on the floor, pulling
her legs out straight, for she had a silly way of doubling them up, and
then he measured her carefully with his mother's old boots. Her growth
proved to be distressingly irregular, as one day she seemed to have
grown an inch since last night, and then next day she had shrunk two
inches.

After her day's work Mrs. Sandys was now so listless that, had not Tommy
interfered, Elspeth would have been a backward child. Reddy had been
able to walk from the first day, and so of course had he, but this
little slow-coach's legs wobbled at the joints, like the blade of a
knife without a spring. The question of questions was How to keep her on
end?

Tommy sat on the fender revolving this problem, his head resting on his
hand: that favorite position of mighty intellects when about to be
photographed, Elspeth lay on her stomach on the floor, gazing earnestly
at him, as if she knew she was in his thoughts for some stupendous
purpose. Thus the apple may have looked at Newton before it fell.

Hankey,