My name, in those days, was Susan Trinder. People called me Sue. I know the year I was born in, but for many years I did not know the date, and took my birthday at Christmas. I believe I am an orphan. My mother I know is. dead. But I never saw her, she was nothing to me. I was Mrs Sucksbys child, if I was anyones; and for father I had Mr Ibbs, who kept the locksmiths shop, at Lant Street, in the Bh, o the Thames.
This is the first time I remember thinking about the world and my pla it.
There was a girl named Flora, who paid Mrs Sucksby a penny to take me begging at a play. People used to like to take me begging then, for the sake of my bright hair; and Flora being also very fair, she would pass me off as her sister. The theatre she took me to, on the night I am thinking of now, was the Surrey, St Gees Circus. The play was Oliver Twist. I remember it as very terrible. I remember the tilt of the gallery, and the drop to the pit. I remember a drunken woman catg at the ribbons of my dress. I remember the flares, that made the stage very lurid; and the r of the actors, the shrieking of the crowd. They had one of the characters in a red wig and whiskers: I was certain he was a monkey in a coat, he capered so. Worse still was the snarling, pink-eyed dog; worst of all was that dogs master—Bill Sykes, the fancy-man. Wheruck the pirl Nancy with his club, the people all down ot up. There was a boot thrown at the stage. A woman beside me cried out,
Oh, you beast! You villain! And her worth forty of a bully like you!
I dont know if it was the people getting up—which made the gallery seem to heave about; or the shrieking woman; or the sight of Nancy, lying perfectly pale and still at Bill Sykess feet; but I became gripped by an awful terror. I thought we should all be killed. I began to scream, and Flora could not quiet me. And when the woman who had called out put her arms to me and smiled, I screamed out louder. Then Flora began to weep—she was only twelve or thirteen, I suppose. She took me home, and Mrs Sucksby slapped her.
What was you thinking of, takio such a thing? she said. You was to sit with her upoeps. I dont hire my infants out to have them brought back like this, turned blue with screaming. What was you playing at?
She took me upon her lap, and I wept again. There now, my lamb, she said. Flora stood before her, saying nothing, pulling a strand of hair across her scarlet cheek. Mrs Sucksby was a devil with her dander up. She looked at Flora and tapped her slippered foot upon the rug, all the time rog in her chair—that was a great creaking wooden chair, that no-o in save her—aihick, hard hand upon my shaking back. Then,
I know your little rig, she said quietly. She knew everybodys rig. What you get? A couple of wipers, was it? A couple of wipers, and a ladys purse?
Flora pulled the strand of hair to her mouth, and bit it. A purse, she said, after a sed. And a bottle of st.
Show, said Mrs Sucksby, holding out her hand. Floras face grew darker. But she put her fio a tear at the waist of her skirt, and reached i; and you might imagine my surprise wheear turned out to be not a tear at all, but the neck of a little silk pocket that was sewn inside her gown. She brought out a black cloth bag, and a bottle with a stopper on a silver . The bag had threepen it, and half a nutmeg. Perhaps she got it from the drunken woman who plucked at my dress. The bottle, with its stopper off, smelt of ro