Shadows of the Workhouse

child’s credit that she showed so much gratitude. He patted her hair and shoulders and took out a fine lawn handkerchief to wipe her eyes.
    “There, now, dry your eyes. You can’t go spoiling your pretty little face with tears. Let’s see you smile. That’s better.”
    The girls continued to file past, but Jane still clung to him. The Master was standing beside them, seething with fury. After all the girls had left the hall, Sir Ian finally disentangled Jane’s arms from around him. “There now, little one,” he said, “off you run. Join your playmates. And I promise you will go to the seaside in the summer time.”
    Jane reached up and touched his face, and breathed the words: “Oh Daddy, I love you, Daddy, I love you so much.”
    She whispered it very softly, for him alone, but the Master heard every word. He said, out of the side of his mouth, to an officer: “Take her to the punishment room.” He then escorted his guest to the boys’ section, where Sir Ian gave his second address.
    Jane ran to join the rest of the girls. They were agog with excitement and she was the centre of attention. She entered, proud and confident, her eyes dancing.
    “That’s my daddy. He’s going to take me away.”
    They crowded around, chattering. Most of the girls believed her, although some of the older ones didn’t. “Don’t be silly. We’re all going on holiday, not just you.”
    Jane replied haughtily. “Oh well, perhaps he will take some of you as well. He’s very rich. But he’s my daddy and he’s taking me specially. After that we will live together in his big house.”
    An officer was standing right behind her. Jane was not aware of it while she spoke, but when she saw the girls looking over her shoulder, she turned round. The officer grabbed her.
    “You come along with me, my girl. The Master wants to see you.”
    Jane’s heart leaped. Her bright eyes looked over to the other girls. “There, you see! My daddy’s going to take me away now. That’s why the Master wants to see me.”
    The officer looked grim and most of the girls looked nervous. Only Jane was happy as she walked confidently away with the officer.
    She was taken to the punishment room. The door was opened, she was pushed in, then the door was locked from the outside.
    Jane was surprised, even startled, to find herself in a small room, about eight feet square, with no windows except the slit of a fanlight high up on one wall. There was no furniture, except for a three-legged stool sitting alone on the stone floor. Around the wall hung several canes of different lengths and a leather-thonged whip which had three tails, with a small lead pellet attached to the end of each tail.
    She couldn’t understand it. Why should they want her to wait here? Still, what did it matter, she thought to herself. She could still feel her daddy’s kind, warm hands as he caressed her hair, and the sound of his voice as he called her “my child”. What did it matter? What did anything in the world matter but that she had told him she loved him and he had called her his child and promised to take her away?
    Jane sat down on the stool to wait.

    Sir Ian Astor-Smaleigh returned to Oxford that evening full of philanthropic satisfaction. It had been a wonderful day. All the arrangements had been agreed with the workhouse master, the dates settled, the travelling arranged, catering organised, even the clothing supplier had been contracted. No wonder he was pleased. Over three hundred desperately poor children would benefit. He would be able to give a full and satisfactory report to his committee.
    Lady Lavinia read his face as he entered the house. She shared her husband’s happiness. The maid brought in a late meal and they sat down to discuss the day’s work. He told her how he had addressed the children twice, first the girls and then the boys. They were poor, grey little things, he said, with very little life or vitality about them, not like their own children, who tumbled all over the place, and couldn’t be contained. She protested that their children were not all that bad – “but do go on, dear.”
    “However,” he said, “there was one little girl who seemed different. She was full of life. She was hanging on to every word as I spoke. She didn’t take her eyes off me and she was obviously overcome with joy at the news. In fact she ran up to me afterwards to thank me.”
    Sir Ian had been on the point of saying that the little girl had called