“Nothing, please, sir,” said Jessica, “only let me come to hear you of a Sunday, and tell me about God. If you was to give me fine clothes--like your little girls’--mother ’ud only pawn them for gin. You can’t do any thing more for me.”
“Out on a spree,” said Jessica. “She wont be home for a day or two. She’d not hearken to you, sir. There’s the missionary came, and she pushed him down the ladder till he was nearly killed. They used to call mother ‘the vixen’ at the theatre, and nobody durst say a word to her.”
The minister was silent for some minutes, thinking painful thoughts, for his eyes seemed to darken as he looked round the miserable room, and his face wore an air of sorrow and disappointment. At last he spoke again.
“Who is Mr. Daniel, Jessica?” he inquired.
“Oh,” she said cunningly, “he’s only a friend of mine as gives me sups of coffee. You don’t know all the folks in London, sir!”
“No,” he answered, smiling, “but does he keep a coffee-stall?”
Jessica nodded her head, but did not trust herself to speak.
“How much does a cup of coffee cost?” asked the minister.
“A full cup’s a penny,” she answered promptly; “but you can have half a cup; and there are half-penny and penny buns.”
“Good coffee and buns?” he said, with another smile.
“Prime,” replied Jessica, smacking her lips.
“Well,” continued the minister, “tell your friend to give you a full cup of coffee and a penny bun every morning, and I’ll pay for them as often as he chooses to come to me for the money.”
Jessica’s face beamed with delight, but in an instant it clouded over as she recollected Daniel’s secret, and her lips quivered as she spoke her disappointed reply.
“Please, sir,” she said, “I’m sure he couldn’t come; oh! he couldn’t. It’s such a long way, and Mr. Daniel has plenty of customers. No, he never would come to you for money.”
“Jessica,” he answered, “I will tell you what I will do. I will trust you with a shilling every Sunday, if you’ll promise to give it to your friend the very first time you see him. I shall be sure to know if you cheat me.” And the keen, piercing eyes of the minister looked down into Jessica’s, and once more the tender and pitying smile returned to his face.
“I can do nothing else for you?” he said, in a tone of mingled sorrow and questioning.