Friday, September 8
“Remember this day, lad,” said Dr. Snow as we pushed our way through the crowds on Regent Street the next morning. I could hear the excitement in his voice.
“Today we are using science—not superstition—to stop the spread of disease. You and I may not live to see the day, and my name may be forgotten when it comes, but the time will arrive when great outbreaks of cholera will be things of the past,” he declared. “And it is the knowledge of the way in which the disease is propagated which will cause them to disappear.”
I didn’t say anything for a while. I was too busy repeating his words to myself so I could remember them always.
When we got near Broad Street, I asked, “Dr. Snow, do I have time to stop by Florrie’s house to look in on her?”
Dr. Snow waved a hand. “Don’t be late.”
Danny came to the door. For a minute I stood frozen, afraid.
“Don’t look like that,” I cried.
“She took a turn for the worse around midnight.” He rubbed his eyes. Had he been crying? “I don’t mind telling you we were all scared.”
“And now?” I said urgently. “Is Florrie all right now?”
“Yes, she’s much better. Drank a lot of water, which seemed to help. Not from the Broad Street pump, of course. Said she was starting to feel like herself again.”
“Then why are you rubbing your eyes?” I demanded, wanting to shake him. “Why do you look so awful?”
“Sleeping,” he muttered. “All of us were sleeping for the first time in days when you come along and started banging on the door. You woke me up. Go away, Eel. Come back later.”
He was just about to close the door when he stopped. “Oh, wait a minute. Florrie made something for you.”
He disappeared for a moment, then returned, holding out a sheet of paper.
“She did it after you left last night, when she wasn’t sure if she’d make it or not. Made me promise to give it to you. She said today is special or something and that you’d know what she means.”
“I do know,” I said, taking the paper.
It was a simple pencil sketch. Florrie had drawn the Broad Street pump. She had drawn it without the handle. And on the bottom she had scribbled the date: September 8, 1854.
Danny yawned and disappeared inside.
I stood on the doorstep with the sketch in my hand and laughed out loud.
“Did you hear that, Dilly? Florrie’s getting better!”
I looked around the small crowd. Dr. Snow had worked so hard for this moment. I had too. Florrie believed in what we were doing. Hundreds of people had died already because of the water from this pump. But the folks standing around us that day weren’t convinced.
“This ’ere water is a far sight cleaner than the disgusting liquid in the cistern by my house,” said one man behind me.
Another called out, “Who come up with this crazy idea? There ain’t nothin’ wrong with the Broad Street pump. It’s the bad air makin’ us sick. Can’t the committee do something about that?”
I searched for familiar faces—and to my surprise, I saw Mr. Edward Huggins and Abel Cooper standing together in the back of the crowd. I gulped. Mr. Edward caught my eye and beckoned me over to him.
“My brother told me he dismissed you for stealing last week, young man,” he said sternly. “I must say I am very disappointed.”
“I didn’t steal anything, Mr. Huggins,” I said, raising my chin to look him in the eyes. “But … I couldn’t get Mr. Griggs to vouch for me, on account of he got sick.”
“You didn’t bother coming back to defend yourself, though, did you?” Abel Cooper put in. “You just up and took off, and left me with that cat.”
I took a deep breath. I’d made up my mind to tell them the truth, but now that the time had come, it was harder than I expected.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cooper. And I apologize to you, Mr. Huggins,” I said. “I was scared. And … I thought it wouldn’t do any good, especially once I knew Mr. Griggs wouldn’t be able to speak up for me. I figured it would just be Hugz—uh, Herbert’s word against mine.”
“So you assumed I too would think you guilty?” Mr. Edward asked.
“But—but don’t you, sir?” I stammered.
“That depends, lad, on what account you have to give of yourself.” Mr. Edward nodded toward Dr. Snow. “You may not have seen me, but I’ve watched you this week from my office.”
I gulped and stared down at my feet, afraid of what he might say next.
“Look at me, lad.”
“I saw you helping families and the coffin man. I saw you walking the streets with Dr. Snow. I was even there in the back at the committee meeting,” said Mr. Edward. He chuckled and shook his head. “Now that’s something I’ll not soon forget—smell and all.”
I noticed that the corner of his mouth was twitching. Mr. Edward, I realized, was trying not to laugh.
“So, Eel, when this is over, come see me. I don’t know that I can get you your situation back,” he said. “My older brother is a stubborn man, and I’m not sure I want to subject a good-hearted lad like you to the companionship of my nephew again. But perhaps I can help you in some way.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said. “Thank you very much, Mr. Huggins.”
Abel Cooper clapped me on the back, a wide grin on his face. “But don’t get any ideas of taking your cat back, son. Queenie is my girl now.”