I saved them up a long while ago. That will pay for
burying me. And, Jim, you'll take care of the kid. You won't let it go
to the parish."
Jim promised.
"Say 'S'welp me Gawd,' Jim."
"S'welp me Gawd, mother."
Then the woman, having arranged her worldly affairs, lay back ready, and
Death struck.
Jim kept his oath. He found the money, and buried his mother; and then,
putting his household goods on a barrow, moved into cheaper
apartments--half an old shed, for which he paid two shillings a week.
For eighteen months he and the baby lived there. He left the child at a
nursery every morning, fetching it away each evening on his return from
work, and for that he paid fourpence a day, which included a limited
supply of milk. How he managed to keep himself and more than half keep
the child on the remaining two shillings I cannot say. I only know that
he did it, and that not a soul ever helped him or knew that there was
help wanted. He nursed the child, often pacing the room with it for
hours, washed it, occasionally, and took it out for an airing every
Sunday.
Notwithstanding all which care, the little beggar, at the end of the time
above mentioned, "pegged out," to use Jimmy's own words.
The coroner was very severe on Jim. "If you had taken proper steps," he
said, "this child's life might have been preserved.
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