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The result of this was that Poorthing Lane was besieged for some time by railway vans, and waggons so huge that apparently an inch more added to their bulk would have rendered their passage impossible.
Hereupon Gorman said "Good-night," and the deputy returned to the counter, where besotted men and drunken women awaited his attendance. Three-quarters of an hour sufficed to convey Gorman from the east to the west end of London. Here he sought the well-known precincts of Poorthing Lane, and entered the shop of Mr David Boone.
When David Boone and his friend Gorman planned the insurance and destruction of the toy shop and its contents, they no more expected that the very first steps towards that end would result in the conversion of a poor into a flourishing business, than they expected that the expression of a wish would convert Poorthing Lane into Beverly Square; yet so it was.
Next day, D. Gorman happened, quite in a casual way of course, to saunter into Poorthing Lane; and it was positively interesting to note as many people did note the surprise and consternation with which he received the news of the fire from the people at the end of the lane who first met him, and who knew him well. "Wery sad, ain't it, sir?" said a sympathetic barber.
He also advertised specially that he had in stock, "an assortment of 500 golden-haired dolls from Germany, full-dressed, half-dressed, and naked." This last was irresistible. Thousands of young hearts beat high at the mere thought of such numbers "with golden hair too!" and dozens of mammas, and papas too, visited Poorthing Lane in consequence.
After David Boone's first alarm was given, other voices took it up; passers-by became suddenly wild, darted about spasmodically and shouted it; late sitters-up flung open their windows and proclaimed it; sleepers awoke crying, "What! where?" and, huddling on their clothes, rushed out to look at it; little boys yelled it; frantic females screamed it, and in a few minutes the hubbub in Poorthing Lane swelled into a steady roar.
When William Willders reached the small door of Number 6, Poorthing Lane, and raised his hand to knock, the said door opened as if it had been trained to admit visitors of its own accord, and Miss Matty Merryon issued forth, followed by a bright blue-eyed girl of about twelve years of age. "Well, boy, was ye comin' here?" inquired Matty, as the lad stepped aside to let them pass. "Yes, I was.
I advise you to keep your tongue quieter if you wish to get on in life." Willie once more sought relief in his pocket-handkerchief, while his patron indited and sealed an epistle, which he addressed to "Miss Tippet, Number 6, Poorthing Lane, Beverly Square." "Here, boy, take this to the lady to whom it is addressed the lane is at the opposite corner of the square and wait an answer."
Among other things, he became suddenly smitten with a desire to advertise, and immediately in the columns of the tapers appeared advertisements to the effect that "The Celebrated Toy Emporium" was to be found in Poorthing Lane. Finding that this increased his business considerably, he hit upon a plan of advertising which has been practised rather extensively of late years in London.
The dark, dismal lane, named Poorthing Lane, besides forming an asylum for decayed and would-be aristocrats, and a vestibule, as it were, to Beverly Square, was a convenient retreat for sundry green-grocers and public-house keepers and small trades-people, who supplied the densely-peopled surrounding district, and even some of the inhabitants of Beverly Square itself, with the necessaries of life.
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