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Updated: May 23, 2025
They had gone now and Patsy felt that David was standing beside the bed and looking down at him. He opened his eyes and two more tears escaped, which he hastily brushed away. Immediately David was on his knees, the little cripple's hand clasped tenderly in his. "What's the trouble, kid?" he questioned anxiously. "Is it the pain that's bad to-night?"
Delancey's funeral was scarcely over, before Guly received a message, stating that his friend the dwarf, was very ill, and desired to see him. The ragged boy, who brought the message, offered to act as guide to the cripple's hovel, remarking, that Richard said Monsieur would give him a dime for so doing.
The highest kind of satisfaction in life comes almost entirely from being true to your own generous feelings and doing the best you can under any and all circumstances. A poor little cripple may have this satisfaction, just as well as a rich man's son. It is very possible that the little cripple's spirit and his life on earth, will count for more in the eternal scheme, than the rich man's son.
As the cripple's bedroom was at the top of the first flight of stairs, the steps of which it being summer were covered with China matting, he was obliged to drag himself up its incline whenever he was in want of something he must fetch himself. One of these necessities was a certain squat bottle like those which had graced the old sideboards.
They hardly ever saw him; he passed after dark, but they heard him, and the sound always struck the little cripple's ears like a harsh echo of her own mournful thoughts. All these street friends unconsciously occupied a large place in the lives of the two women. If it rained, they would say: "They will get wet. I wonder whether the child got home before the shower."
Still Daisy did not speak; she had laid her finger under some of the words she had been reading; but when Molly raised her head she remembered the sense of them could not be taken by the poor woman's eyes. So Daisy read them, looking with great tenderness in the cripple's face "'I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely. That is what it says, Molly."
Before going, however, she went to see about the fire in the stove. It was burnt down to a few coals; and the kettle was boiling. Daisy could not leave it so. She fetched more wood and put in, with a little more kindling; and then, leaving it all right, she was going to bid Molly good- bye, when she saw that the poor cripple's head had sunk down on her arms.
Gypsy sat down in her favorite place on the bed, just where she could see the cripple's great quiet eyes—she always liked to watch Peace Maythorne's eyes—and in doing so disturbed the bedclothes. A piece of work fell out: plain, fine sewing, in which the needle lay with a stitch partially taken. "Peace Maythorne!" said Gypsy, "you've been doing it again!" "A little, just to help aunt, you know.
For hours every fair day, during spring, summer, and autumn, he might be seen in front of the little house where he lived leaning upon the gate, or sitting on an old bench looking with a sober face at the romping village children, or dreamily regarding the passengers who moved with such strong limbs up and down the street. How often, bitter envy stung the poor cripple's heart!
Then the boat-hook he wielded with a circular sweep began to take grotesque shapes in my heated fancy; now it was the antenna of a groping insect, now the crank of a cripple's selfpropelled perambulator, now the alpenstock of a lunatic mountaineer, who sits in his chair and climbs and climbs to some phantom 'watershed'. At the back of such mind as was left me lodged two insistent thoughts: 'we must hurry on, 'we are going wrong. As to the latter, take a link-boy through a London fog and you will experience the same thing: he always goes the way you think is wrong.
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