There are other hospitals for children, which are for all sorts of illnesses and not only for incurable ones. There is one in Chelsea, not far from here, and another, a very large one, in Great Ormond Street, not very far from the school for sick children.

In the Great Ormond Street one they take in the very tiniest babies, and so the nurses have plenty to do looking after these mites. Sometimes a child is very naughty when it first comes in, and will do nothing but scream and cry, and the nurses have to be very patient; but it always happens that when it has been there for a time it loves them all so much that it cries when it gets well and has to go home. It is a funny sight to see a nurse or a sister having tea with perhaps three or four children who are well enough to be up. They climb all over her like little kittens, and love her so much she cannot get rid of them. In this hospital each ward is named after some member of the Royal Family: Helena Ward, Alice Ward, and so on, after the Princesses Helena and Alice, daughters of Queen Victoria.

There is a home for cripple girls in London, and another for cripple boys in a part of the West End called Kensington. Here the boys are taken in and taught, not only lessons, but all kinds of things that boys can do without having to walk. Some are tailors, and some make harness for carriage-horses, and some carve wood, and learn carpentering or shoemaking. And so they can earn their own living when they grow up to be men. They all seem very happy, and when you meet them on a walk it is a touching sight; but yet not really sad, because their faces are bright and happy. Fancy meeting twenty or thirty boys going along together, every one of them lame or deformed in some way! Some go on crutches, and some hobble, and others limp; but they do not seem to mind, because, perhaps, they have never known what it is to be active like other boys, and there are plenty of pleasant things they can still do.

CHAPTER VIII

STREETS AND SHOPS

When I asked a little girl who was visiting London for the first time if it was like what she had expected, she said, 'No,' and when I asked how it differed from the idea she had had, she said: 'I expected to see long rows and rows of houses, going on for miles and miles, but I never thought there would be so many things in the streets--cabs and omnibuses and people; it's all so much fuller and gayer than I thought.'

I think this is what would strike anyone who was seeing London for the first time, especially if they came in what is called 'the season.' The season lasts for three months--May, June, and July--and during that time the people who live in the country, but are rich enough to have houses in London, come up to town; and the people who have houses in London, but who go away a great deal during the rest of the year, make a point of being in London during the season; and many other people, who are gay and rich, come up to town just for those three months to meet all their friends and see what is going on. So the streets in the West End are very full indeed. In the beginning of May, when the fine weather comes, people in costly motor-cars appear in the Park in greater numbers, until at the height of the season there are rows and rows of them. If you were to go to the Park any fine afternoon about that time of the year and were to stand near one of the great gates at Hyde Park Corner, you would see all the traffic drawn up in double lines, with the well-dressed women inside the carriages waiting for something. They are interested in seeing H.M. the Queen, who is very fond of driving in the Park. Perhaps also there may be with her the popular d.u.c.h.ess of York, from her house in Piccadilly, and possibly baby Princess Elizabeth. When the royalties come there is quite a stir of excitement. The great iron gates opening on to Const.i.tution Hill are thrown open--they are only opened for royalty; everyone else has to go through the side gates--and then there is a flash of scarlet liveries, and the crowd of people standing in the open s.p.a.ce before Hyde Park call out, 'The Queen, the Queen!' And the much-loved Queen drives smiling through them, bowing this way and that, with that gracious manner that has made everyone love her; and the men raise their hats and the ladies wave their handkerchiefs as the carriage dashes across the open s.p.a.ce, kept clear by the police, and goes into the Park, where all the waiting carriages are. The Queen has another lady with her, or perhaps her only daughter who has now a home of her own, and they drive round and round the Park several times, enjoying the fresh ah.

The streets of London are in some places very narrow--too narrow to allow tram-cars to run through them as they do in some other large towns, and at the height of the season the blocks in the traffic in some of the West-End streets are quite alarming. Imagine a tightly-packed ma.s.s of vehicles, restive horses in splendid carriages, huge motor-omnibuses, smart automobiles, taxi-cabs, and tradesmen's vans, all squeezed together. Perhaps the policeman has held up his hand at a crossing to let some carriages get across from a side street, and everything has had to stop, public and private alike. Stand up on the top of an omnibus and look this way and that: what can you see? Rows and rows of great omnibuses crowded with people, both outside on the roof and inside, all waiting just because one man has held up his hand.

Nothing astonishes foreigners more than this; indeed, some people say it is the one thing Frenchmen like most to see in London--the power of the policeman. He has perfect control of all the traffic, and if he says a thing must stop, it must obey him even if it be the carriage of a duke.

In Paris they tried to imitate this, and they gave their policemen little white wands to hold up to stop the traffic when it was necessary; but the drivers of the cabs took no notice, and the poor French policeman would run about yelling at them and waving his little white wand and shouting to them to stop, and when they took no notice he grew more and more angry until he was almost frantic--so different from our calm, grave policeman with his majestic arm. Sometimes, when the roadway is thick with carts and cabs and carriages, there is a roar in the distance, a shout of many voices that makes your heart stand still. It comes again, louder and louder, nearer and nearer, and all the vehicles pull to one side and make a lane down the middle of the road. Right up this lane dashes a shining fire-engine, with the smoke and sparks flying out behind, the men in the glistening helmets clinging on to the sides, and the driver guiding it so skilfully as it spins over the ground far quicker than it takes to tell. In a minute they have dashed out of sight; then the traffic closes up again. But there is another shout, another roar, and another engine follows the first; the firemen clinging to it are shouting all together a noise that sounds like 'Ah-h-h!

ah-h-h!' to warn other things to get out of their way. Soon a third comes, and then follows a great red ladder on wheels, pushed by men on foot--that is a fire-escape. The fire can't be far away, so we run after the excited crowd, and soon come to a street blocked with people, where flames and smoke are shooting out of the windows. It is a house where many girls are employed in a dressmaking business, and some of them have been got safely out; but there are others at those high windows, screaming for help and stretching out their arms. The brave firemen begin to send great spouts of water on to the raging flames; they put up the fire-escape, and one man mounts it, going right into the smoke. He brings down two of the girls from one story, and disappears for a moment into the room; then he comes back, for the flames are beating fiercely on him. In the wild confusion no one seems to know if all the girls are out or not; but presently one cries out that two are still in the back-rooms, now blazing fiercely. Up go the firemen again and plunge into the windows right into the flames. A long time elapses. We hold our breath; it seems as if the brave men must have perished. Then there is a cheer as a fireman appears with something in his arms. It is a girl unconscious; gently he lowers her down the ladder, and goes again to help his comrade. They reappear and come down in safety. Are all out now? No; for all at once, at the end of the building furthest from the fire-escape, a woman appears shrieking wildly. She cannot wait, though the men shout to her to do so; there are flames behind her clutching at her, her hair is on fire and her clothes. She stands on the window-sill, and it is seen she is going to leap into the street below; a blanket is held, and a hush falls on the crowd as she plunges down. Hurrah! the blanket has caught her; she will be no worse. All are out now, but still the flames are fearful, and the houses on either side are threatened.

The firemen play water on to them to keep them from catching alight, and an incessant stream of water spouts upwards from the great hose. The roof goes in with a crash, but it is seen that the water is doing something--the flames are quieter. Yet, with all the care and patience, it is not for several hours the fire can be p.r.o.nounced to have been put out. If we came to see the house next day, it would stand up bare and smoke-blackened, just four walls, with the roof burnt out, the staircases gone, and inside only a ma.s.s of rubbish. Someone will have to pay heavily, but, at any rate, at this particular fire no lives have been lost.

The Fire Brigade is a wonderful power, and the brave men who belong to it perform heroic things in daily life without making any fuss. There are brigade stations all over London, and if a fire breaks out, it takes only a few minutes for the brigade to be summoned. Not so very long ago all the engines were drawn by specially trained horses who stood ready in their stalls, with the harness swinging above them. At the first sound of the alarm bell the harness was lowered, the straps buckled, and in a few moments the fire-engines were on the road. But now all the London fire-engines are run by motor power. In the streets there are little red posts with a gla.s.s at the top. By breaking it a bell is rung in the nearest fire station, and the men are warned. Mischievous boys or men sometimes broke these gla.s.ses 'just for fun,' and then ran away, and when the fire-engine dashed round the corner the men found no fire.

This has been stopped by the infliction of a very heavy fine. If anyone is caught doing it now without cause he is made to pay richly for his mischief, and quite rightly too. Yet it does happen sometimes that men and engine are summoned on a false alarm, and when they arrive they find only a smouldering chimney, or perhaps even only a smoky one, and the people who have called them up have been needlessly alarmed. At Hampstead, in the north of London, where the ground is very high, there is a great tower rising many feet into the air, from which one can see almost all over London, and here there is a man always on duty to watch if fires break out. Of course, it would be a pretty big fire if he could see it from there, but then he could communicate with the nearest station and tell them to go to it. It must be a curious duty to stay all night at that great height overlooking the vast city of London.

Sometimes a fire breaks out in some of the great warehouses down by the river, and then there is a magnificent sight. One such warehouse was full of paraffin oil, and you know paraffin burns more readily than anything else. As the barrels were caught by the flames the oil streamed out on to the water, and, floating on the top, seemed like a sea of flame. It must have been wonderful to see. The heat was so great that no one could go near, but on the opposite bank thousands of people a.s.sembled and watched the flames. There were flames above and flames below, fire shooting to the sky, and fire flowing down on the river's tide. The water reflected the fire above, and the fire that floated on its surface. It must have seemed like a burning world. That was a very difficult task for the brigade.

Sometimes the brave men themselves are injured or killed in the execution of their work, and at all times when engaged with a fire they run some risk.

But we have got a long way from the street where we saw the engine dashing down through the traffic, and we must come back again. All the bustle and the fuss that we have been talking of is on the roadway. What about the pavements? The pavement is often just as crowded, and though policemen don't hold up their hands to prevent people walking there, yet it is often quite a long time before you can get through, especially outside a gay shop window, where all the women want to stand and stare.

In one place, where there are several big shops which stretch down one side of the street, with very pretty windows full of beautiful things, many nursemaids come to wheel babies in perambulators. This is not for the sake of the children, who are too young to care about shop windows, but it is for the sake of the nursemaids, who meet together and go slowly along two together, talking of all the fine things they want to buy, and staring with mouths and eyes round as saucers at the things they see. Now two nursemaids with two perambulators on a narrow pavement do not leave much room for anyone else, and people get tripped up and have their toes crushed by the wheels, or have to step off into the roadway to make way for Selina Ellen and Martha Theresa, who are far too much interested in their conversation to make way for anyone. Once a funny thing happened. An old gentleman was strolling along very slowly, and Selina Ellen, never looking where she was going, pushed her perambulator into him from behind. It took the old gentleman right off his legs, whereupon he sat down backwards on to the perambulator, baby and all! Poor baby! no wonder it screamed; it was a mercy it was not squashed up altogether!

Yet there is some excuse for Selina Ellen and her kind, for the shops are very beautiful. Those of you who have only seen shops in small country towns can hardly imagine what they are like. The great plate-gla.s.s windows stretch down the side of a street, and if you go inside the shop you walk through room after room of beautiful things, all arranged to show to the best advantage. The toy department would be enough to make any little girl or boy happy even to look at it. There are toys large and toys small; engines that can be wound up to run by themselves; horses large enough to ride upon; b.a.l.l.s of all colours and sizes; and dolls--oh, the dolls! Dolls black-eyed and brown-eyed and blue-eyed, dolls fair-haired and brown-haired, dolls dressed and undressed. It is perhaps just imagination, but it always seems to me if we could be there when the shop is shut up for the night and left quiet we should hear and see some strange things.

One night, not very long before Christmas, in one of the largest shops, the young men and women who had sold things to customers all day long were putting away the ribbons and laces and folding up the great curtains and the dress-stuffs to leave everything tidy for the night before they went away to their homes. They had been there since nine o'clock that morning, and were very tired, for people, even ladies, are sometimes very tiresome when they come to buy; but the young men and women have to be very polite always, and never lose their temper, or they would be sent away. When the shop was just being shut up a lady hurried in, and said:

'I want a doll, please, at once.'

'This way, madam,' said the tall man in the frock-coat very politely, and he took her downstairs. 'Dolls, please,' he said to a tired, sweet-looking girl who stood there.

'What sort of a doll did you wish, madam?' asked the girl.

'Oh, it must be a baby doll in baby clothes with real lace. My little girl would not have one that wasn't dressed in real lace.'

'I'm afraid we haven't any with real lace, madam, but we have one or two baby dolls,' said the girl, and she took down one or two from the shelves.

'Oh no, those are hideous!' said the lady. 'The doll must have brown eyes and red-gold hair.'

'I don't think we have any like that, madam. Here is one with blue eyes and----'

'I didn't ask you for blue eyes,' said the lady rudely. 'If you can't show me what I want I must go elsewhere.'

'One minute, madam; I believe there is just one doll such as you describe, if it hasn't been sold.'

She looked about, and after a little while saw the doll she wanted on a shelf. She reached up for it and tried to pull it down, but another doll, rather larger, was leaning over it, so that she could not take one without the other. She thought the two seemed very close, but she disentangled them, and laid the baby doll on the counter. As she did so the big doll fell forward on the shelf, with its arms hanging over as if they were stretched out imploringly; but the girl never noticed it.

'I think this will be what you are wanting, madam,' she said.

The lady looked at it in a dissatisfied way.

'It hasn't got real lace on its clothes, but as its hair and eyes seem right, I must take it, and tell my maid to sew some lace on to-night to be ready for Gladys in the morning,' she said.

The girl tied it up in a parcel for her, and she left the shop. Very shortly after this everyone went home, and all was still in the dolls'

department; and then suddenly there was a gentle little sniff, just as if a very wee kitten were crying, and a little movement from the shelf where the baby-doll had lain. Then a tiny little squeaky voice said:

'Well, you needn't make such a fuss about it; you knew the baby would have to go some day.'

'I--I--can't help it,' sobbed a gentle little voice; 'I did love that baby so.'

'You behaved very badly,' said a gruff voice; and the two dolls jumped, for they knew it was the Gollywog speaking, and they were all afraid of him. 'You did what no doll should ever do--you nearly showed you were alive before human people.'

'I know it was very wrong of me,' said the gentle little doll meekly.

'But I did so want to keep that baby; I tried to lie on the top of her so that she shouldn't be seen.'

'And you fell down and stretched out your arms. Let me tell you, madam, that you have merited severe punishment; you have broken the laws of dolldom, wherein we all swear never to speak or show a sign that we can understand the human world. You have broken the most solemn law in a daring way without provocation----'

'Oh,' said the second doll with the squeaky voice, 'please, Mr.

Gollywog, don't be so severe; I think she had provocation: she cared very much for the baby.'

'What are you talking about?' growled the Gollywog. 'We don't want your opinion. We're going to have a trial now, and no women-dolls can sit on juries, so you won't have anything to say. Provocation, indeed! If she had pins stuck into her all over, or been roasted in front of a fire until she melted, as some dolls have done, you might have talked of provocation. She might have squeaked then, though many dolls have bravely endured these things in silence and died; but because a baby-doll she had taken a fancy to went away, to show off like that! She deserves death.'

Whereupon he stumped down off his shelf, and hunted about for a man-doll to make a jury to try the poor gentle doll. It was rather difficult to find, for there were so few men-dolls; but at last he rummaged out of a corner a sailor-boy doll, who was terribly afraid of him, and of him he demanded:

'What do you think that doll is guilty of?'

'Please, sir,' said the sailor-boy, trembling all over, 'what do _you_ think?'

'I think she is guilty of a crime that deserves punishment by death.'

'Punishment by death!' echoed the sailor-boy.

Thereupon the Gollywog made a spring upwards to the shelf, and the poor little gentle doll gave a shriek and lost her balance, and fell head first on to the floor, where she was smashed to pieces.

When the shopgirls came again in the morning, the one who had served the lady found her lying there with her pretty wax face all broken.

'Oh dear,' she said, 'how careless of me! She fell off the shelf, to be sure; I remember seeing her fall down when I took away the other doll. I ought to have put her back.'

But the Gollywog, who had returned safely to his own corner, chuckled to himself silently.