Shadows of the Workhouse

marched round the back to their usual entrance and stood in line for inspection before being told that they were to go to the hall.
    Jane didn’t stand in line with the others. She rushed straight upstairs to the dormitory, colliding with an officer on the stairway. She was flushed and breathless, but she grabbed the officer’s hand, almost shouting.
    “Quick, quick! I must have a clean dress and a clean apron!”
    The officer was not used to being spoken to by a child in that manner. She shook Jane off.
    “Don’t be stupid. You’ll have a clean dress on Sunday. Not before.”
    The child stamped. “But I must, I must! My daddy’s downstairs, and I want a clean dress and apron before I see him.”
    “Your what?”
    “My daddy. He’s downstairs. He’s in the Master’s office. I saw him go in.”
    There was something so intense, so urgent and compelling about the child, that the officer gave in, and Jane was supplied with a clean dress and apron, against all the rules. She rushed to the washroom and washed her face and hands, brushed her hair until her curls shone, then flew downstairs to join the other children.
    The officer plodded downstairs and told her colleagues of the extraordinary scene. They agreed that the child was mad, but one, with a snigger, said, “She may be right. Everyone says Jane’s father was a high-born gentleman. Well, there’s a fancy-lookin’ gent gone in Master’s office. We don’t know what for.” And she rubbed the side of her nose suggestively.
    The girls filed into the hall and sat in rows, the youngest at the front, and the oldest at the back. Jane sat in the fifth row, her eyes fixed on the door where she knew her daddy would enter. She was burning with expectation.
    The door opened and Sir Ian walked in, followed by the Master. Her heart stopped beating again. Yes, it was him, the same grave yet kindly face, the same smooth grey hair, and the same deep-set eyes with a smile at the corners. She sat up straight and tall. She was taller than the other girls anyway, but she increased her height by her posture. Her eyes were aflame with love, her mouth was slightly open, her teeth gleamed white as she smiled.
    Sir Ian spoke to the children from the pulpit. He could see right down the long hall, with the massed young faces staring up at him. Most of the faces looked glum and unresponsive, and it is always difficult to address an audience from whom the speaker feels no wave of sympathy. He had a joyful message to impart; he had hoped for a joyful response. But most of the girls looked straight ahead, no emotion registering on their features. However, there was one little girl, sitting in the middle near the front, who looked really animated. Sir Ian therefore did what many public speakers do; he fixed his attention on one face in the audience and spoke to that person alone. He spoke of the coming summer and how hot London became at that time of year. He said: “I am going to take you away in the summer.”
    The little girl stifled a gasp, her eyes alight.
    He spoke of the countryside and the seaside, and said: “I am going to take you to a beautiful place by the sea.” The little girl could scarcely contain her emotion as he continued: “You will be able to paddle and swim, and build sandcastles and collect shells.”
    The little girl in the fifth row was now breathing fast, alternately clenching and stretching her fingers.
    Sir Ian said, “We will do all this when the summer comes.”
    The little girl gave a sigh of delight as he stepped down from the pulpit. He felt pleased with himself. Overall, it had been a good address, and a good response.
    The Master had also seen Jane’s reaction and made a silent note to reprimand her about exhibitionism. He had not yet heard from his subordinate officers about the clean dress and apron.
    The girls stood up to leave the hall. One by one they filed past the Master and Sir Ian. It was at this point that Jane lost all control of herself. As she passed, she rushed out of line and flung her arms around Sir Ian’s waist, crying, “Thank you, Daddy, thank you, thank you,” then she burst into tears, sobbing into his waistcoat.
    He was surprised by this, and not a little touched. He ruffled her pretty hair and murmured, “There, there, my child. Don’t take on so. You’ll go to the seaside, and have a lovely time.”
    The Master tried to apologise and pull Jane away, but Sir Ian restrained him, saying that it was to the