University of Virginia Library

OF TWO ORPHAN FLOWER GIRLS.

Of these girls the elder was fifteen and
the younger eleven. Both were clad in old,
but not torn, dark print frocks, hanging so
closely, and yet so loosely, about them as to
show the deficiency of under-clothing; they
wore old broken black chip bonnets. The older
sister (or rather half-sister) had a pair of old
worn-out shoes on her feet, the younger was
barefoot, but trotted along, in a gait at once
quick and feeble — as if the soles of her little
feet were impervious, like horn, to the rough-
ness of the road. The elder girl has a modest
expression of countenance, with no pretensions
to prettiness except in having tolerably good
eyes. Her complexion was somewhat muddy,
and her features somewhat pinched. The
younger child had a round, chubby, and even
rosy face, and quite a healthful look. Her por-
trait is here given.

They lived in one of the streets near Drury-
lane. They were inmates of a house, not let
out as a lodging-house, in separate beds, but
in rooms, and inhabited by street-sellers and
street-labourers. The room they occupied was
large, and one dim candle lighted it so insuffi-
ciently that it seemed to exaggerate the dimen-
sions. The walls were bare and discoloured
with damp. The furniture consisted of a crazy
table and a few chairs, and in the centre of
the room was an old four-post bedstead of the
larger size. This bed was occupied nightly by
the two sisters and their brother, a lad just
turned thirteen. In a sort of recess in a corner
of the room was the decency of an old curtain —
or something equivalent, for I could hardly see
in the dimness — and behind this was, I pre-
sume, the bed of the married couple. The
three children paid 2s. a week for the room,
the tenant an Irishman out of work paying
2s. 9d., but the furniture was his, and his wife
aided the children in their trifle of washing,
mended their clothes, where such a thing was
possible, and such like. The husband was
absent at the time of my visit, but the wife
seemed of a better stamp, judging by her
appearance, and by her refraining from any
direct, or even indirect, way of begging, as
well as from the "Glory be to Gods!" "the
heavens be your honour's bed!" or "it's the
thruth I'm telling of you sir," that I so fre-
quently meet with on similar visits.

The elder girl said, in an English accent,
not at all garrulously, but merely in answer
to my questions: "I sell flowers, sir; we live
almost on flowers when they are to be got. I
sell, and so does my sister, all kinds, but it's
very little use offering any that's not sweet.
I think it's the sweetness as sells them. I
sell primroses, when they're in, and violets, and
wall-flowers, and stocks, and roses of different
sorts, and pinks, and carnations, and mixed
flowers, and lilies of the valley, and green
lavender, and mignonette (but that I do very
seldom), and violets again at this time of the
year, for we get them both in spring and
winter." [They are forced in hot-houses for
winter sale, I may remark.] "The best sale
of all is, I think, moss-roses, young moss-roses.
We do best of all on them. Primroses are
good, for people say: `Well, here's spring
again to a certainty.' Gentlemen are our
best customers. I've heard that they buy
flowers to give to the ladies. Ladies have
sometimes said: `A penny, my poor girl,
here's three-halfpence for the bunch.' Or
they've given me the price of two bunches for
one; so have gentlemen. I never had a rude
word said to me by a gentleman in my life.
No, sir, neither lady nor gentleman ever gave
me 6d. for a bunch of flowers. I never had a
sixpence given to me in my life — never. I
never go among boys, I know nobody but
my brother. My father was a tradesman in
Mitchelstown, in the County Cork. I don't
know what sort of a tradesman he was. I
never saw him. He was a tradesman I've
been told. I was born in London. Mother
was a chairwoman, and lived very well. None
of us ever saw a father." [It was evident that
they were illegitimate children, but the land-
lady had never seen the mother, and could give
me no information.] "We don't know anything
about our fathers. We were all `mother's
children.' Mother died seven years ago last
Guy Faux day. I've got myself, and my
brother and sister a bit of bread ever since, and
never had any help but from the neighbours.
I never troubled the parish. O, yes, sir, the
neighbours is all poor people, very poor, some
of them. We've lived with her" (indicating
her landlady by a gesture) "these two years,
and off and on before that. I can't say how
long." "Well, I don't know exactly," said
the landlady, "but I've had them with me
almost all the time, for four years, as near as
I can recollect; perhaps more. I've moved
three times, and they always followed me."
In answer to my inquiries the landlady assured
me that these two poor girls, were never out of
doors all the time she had known them after
six at night. "We've always good health.
We can all read." [Here the three somewhat
insisted upon proving to me their proficiency
in reading, and having produced a Roman
Catholic book, the "Garden of Heaven," they
read very well.] "I put myself," continued
the girl, "and I put my brother and sister to

[Description: 915EAF. Page 136.]

a Roman Catholic school — and to Ragged
schools — but I could read before mother died.
My brother can write, and I pray to God that
he'll do well with it. I buy my flowers at
Covent Garden; sometimes, but very seldom,
at Farringdon. I pay 1s. for a dozen bunches,
whatever flowers are in. Out of every two
bunches I can make three, at 1d. a piece. Some-
times one or two over in the dozen, but not so
often as I would like. We make the bunches
up ourselves. We get the rush to tie them
with for nothing. We put their own leaves
round these violets (she produced a bunch).
The paper for a dozen costs a penny; some-
times only a halfpenny. The two of us doesn't
make less than 6d. a day, unless it's very ill
luck. But religion teaches us that God will
support us, and if we make less we say nothing.
We do better on oranges in March or April, I
think it is, than on flowers. Oranges keep better
than flowers you see, sir. We make 1s. a day,
and 9d. a day, on oranges, the two of us. I
wish they was in all the year. I generally go
St. John's-wood way, and Hampstead and High-
gate way with my flowers. I can get them
nearly all the year, but oranges is better liked
than flowers, I think. I always keep 1s. stock-
money, if I can. If it's bad weather, so bad
that we can't sell flowers at all, and so if we've
had to spend our stock-money for a bit of bread,
she (the landlady) lends us 1s., if she has one,
or she borrows one of a neighbour, if she
hasn't, of if the neighbours hasn't it, she bor-
rows it at a dolly-shop" (the illegal pawn-
shop). "There's 2d. a week to pay for 1s. at
a dolly, and perhaps an old rug left for it; if
it's very hard weather, the rug must be taken
at night time, or we are starved with the cold.
It sometimes has to be put into the dolly again
next morning, and then there's 2d. to pay for
it for the day. We've had a frock in for 6d., and that's a penny a week, and the same for a
day. We never pawned anything; we have
nothing they would take in at the pawnshop.
We live on bread and tea, and sometimes a
fresh herring of a night. Sometimes we don't
eat a bit all day when we're out; sometimes
we take a bit of bread with us, or buy a bit.
My sister can't eat taturs; they sicken her.
I don't know what emigrating means." [I
informed her and she continued]: "No, sir,
I wouldn't like to emigrate and leave brother
and sister. If they went with me I don't
think I should like it, not among strangers.
I think our living costs us 2s. a week for the
two of us; the rest goes in rent. That's all
we make."

The brother earned from 1s. 6d. to 2s. a week,
with an occasional meal, as a costermonger's
boy. Neither of them ever missed mass on a
Sunday.