The Argosy — page 338: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A Guide from Dreamland. a7 Since then she had striven to earn a sufficient living for her little one and herself as a seamstress, but alas! it was weary, weary work, and the continual bending and stitching had brought on that terrible foe, consumption. And one beautiful day in May, when the birds were singing blithely and the woods were green, Daisy missed her mother’s kiss for the first time, and learned to know the meaning of the word orphan. Since then she had been living at her uncle’s, but it was a very different life from that she had been accustomed to. Her uncle lived in two rooms in the fourth storey of a dirty, rickety house in one of the most miserable alleys of the city. He had been a bricklayer, like her father, but had lost his place through his love of drink, and now he earned a little by odd jobs, but passed most of his time in the gin-shop, while his wife, a slatternly virago, bullied the poor little one till she was wearied of life. John Gray himself was not really a dad man had he not been such a drunkard. Ina moment of soberness (a rare occurrence !) he had promised his sister on her death-bed to take care of Daisy; for he was her only relation. So Daisy went with him to her new home. She soon found, however, that her life here was to be no sinecure ; for Mrs. Gray had no idea of keeping a child who could not earn her own living. And John Gray, who always conceded to his wife (he was a little afraid of her sharp tongue), thought, too, that Daisy ought to do something. So she was sent out in the mornings with a tray with boxes of matches, packets of pins, and other small articles which she was to try to sell in the streets. But oh! it was dreary work and a slow business! Then in the afternoon she had to sweep up, and nurse the children, a baby of six months and one of eighteen months, till her arms.used to ache. And she did not dare to complain for fear of a sharply administered slap from Mrs. Gray’s grimy fingers. The only part of the day in which Daisy was a little less miserable was in the evening, when the children were asleep and she could slip from the house and wander down to the bridge. And there she would crouch down in some corner and watch, through the bars of the parapet, the barges and the steamers on the river. There she could be still and think; think of the old times with her darling mother. On this evening Daisy was more wearied even than her wont. The children had been restless and Aunt Gray had been more ill-tempered than usual, and besides, business had been bad in the morning, and she had dragged about her wares in vain for many a long mile. Sitting down in her favourite corner, she wept softly. It did her a lot of good to cry; so she did cry, till her tears seemed quite exhausted. Then she leant back and closed her eyes. Suddenly she heard a low, soft voice say: “ Daisy, Daisy!” and looking up she saw the strangest old man she had ever seen in her lifee He was very, very small, and was dressed in a queer old suit of black conniclooolks (C(O)