Ginx's Baby: His Birth and other Misfortunes: A Satire | ||
II.-Club Ideas.
SCARCELY had the shadow of his parent vanished in the gloom before Ginx's Baby piped forth a lusty protest: the street rang again. Ere long the doors at the top of the steps swung back, and a portly form stood in the light.
"Halloo! what's the matter?'' (This was a general observation into space.) "Why, bless my heart, here's a child crying on the steps!''
Another form appeared.
"Is there nobody with it? Halloo! any one there?''
No answer came save from poor little Ginx, but his was decided. The two servants descended the steps and looked at the miserable boy without touching him. Then they peered into the darkness in hope that they might get
"What have we here?'' he said gently.
"It's a child, Sir Charles, I found crying on the steps. I expect it's a trick to get rid of him. We are looking for a policeman to take him away.''
"Poor little fellow,'' said Sir Charles, stooping to take a fair look at Ginx's Baby, "for you and such as you the policeman or the parish officers are the national guardians, and the prison or the poor-house the home. . . . . Bring him into the Club, Smirke.''
The men hesitated a moment before executing so unwonted a demand, but Sir Charles Sterling was a man not safely to be thwarted —a late minister and a member of the committee. The child being carried into the
The query would not have been very ridiculous. He was an unit of the British Empire —nothing could blot out that fact before heaven! Had anything been left undone that
"What's all this?'' said a big Member of Parliament, a minister renowned for economy in matters financial and intellectual. "What are you doing with this youngster? I never saw such an irregularity in a Club in my life.''
"If you saw it oftener you would think more about it,'' said Sir Charles Sterling. "We found him on the steps. I think he was asking for you, Glibton.''
This sally turned a laugh against the minister.
"Well,'' said another, "he has come to the wrong quarter if he wants money.''
"I shouldn't wonder,'' said a third, "if he
"If that's the case I think you haved reached the minimum here, Glibton,'' cried Sir Charles.
"Can't the country afford a livery?''
"Bother you all,'' replied the Secretary, who was secretly pleased to be quizzed for his peculiarities—"tell us what this means. Whose `lark' is it?''
"No lark at all,'' said Sterling. "Here is a problem for you and all of us to solve. This forlorn object is representative, and stands here to-night preaching us a serious sermon. He was deserted on the Club steps —left there, perhaps, as a piece of clever irony; he might be son to some of us. What's your name, my boy?''
Ginx's Baby managed to say "Dunno!''
"Ask him if he has any name?'' said an Irish ex-member, with a grave face.
Ginx's Baby to this question responded distinctly "No.''
"No name,'' said the humorist; "then the author of his being must be Wilkie Collins.''
Everybody laughed at this indifferent pleasantry but our hero. His bosom began to heave ominously.
"What's to be done with him?''
"Send him to the workhouse.''
"Send him to the d—'' (there may be brutality among the gods and goddesses).
"Give him to the porter.''
"No thank you, sir,'' said he, promptly.
The gentlemen were turning away, when Sir Charles stopped them.
"Look here!'' he said, taking the boy's arm and baring it, "this boy can hardly be
The gentlemen were dashed by his earnestness.
"Oh, you're exaggerating,'' said Glibton; "there can't be such widespread misery. Why, if there were, the people would be wrecking our houses.''
"Ah!'' replied the other, sadly, "will you wait to be convinced by that sort of thing
"God forbid!'' said Glibton. "Good-night.''
The right honorable gentleman extinguished the subject in his own little brain with his big hat; but everywhere else the sparks are still aglow, and he, with all like him, may wake up suddenly, as frightened women in the night; to find themselves environed in the red glare of a popular conflagration. Well for them then if they are not in charge of the State machinery. What an hour will that be for hurrying to and fro with water-pipes and buckets, when proper forethought, diligence, and sacrifice would have made the building fireproof.
Ginx's Baby: His Birth and other Misfortunes: A Satire | ||