The little chimney sweep stared up in awe at the great house, and wondered how he would reach the great brass door knocker. As he wondered, the highly polished door opened of its own accord, and a well dressed Grande Dame swept out of the house, nearly knocking him down the steps.
"Out of my way, boy!" she cried, in a haughty manner. She glanced down at him. "Good God, child, you're filthy!"
"I'm a chimneysweep," explained Gorbals (for it was he). "I'm supposed to be filthy."
She paused, and inspected her bustle, brushing away imaginary soot.
"Hmm ..." she pondered. "We need the chimney sweeping. Haven't you got one of those modern contraptions that sucks all the soot out without dirtying anything?"
"No, Ma'am," he murmured. "I've just got ma brushes here. But I'm cheap!"
"How cheap?"
"Sixpence, Ma'am."
"Sixpence! You're hired. Take your boots off first though."
The lady turned on her heel and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, which she used to push him into the house. Gorbals had never seen such a magnificent house. The carpets were all white, and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. But when he entered the parlour, he gasped aloud. The walls were lined with books. Books ... he loved books.
"Jings! Crivens! Help ma boab!" he ejaculated.
Lady Daphne (for it was she) looked askance at him.
"Where are you from child? Romania? Bulgaria?"
Gorbals looked at her incredulously.
"Scotland" he replied flatly.
She made a face as if smelling something unpleasant and made a sound which to Gorbals' untrained ear sounded like "Air".
"Excuse me, Ma'am," he asked, "But how come ye've got all these books? Is this a bookshop or what?"
Lady Daphne's laughter was like the tinkling of a silver spoon against a crystal champagne glass.
"A bookshop? Good Lord no. These are all my books. I am Professor Daphne Higgins, renowned expert in regional dialect and teacher of elocution."
"Charmed I'm sure," replied Gorbals. "Mr Gorbals McChe at your service. Scholar, chimneysweep, Scotsman on the make. Just come doon from the Isle of Skye. I'm no very tall but ..... "
"Get on with the job, will you?" Lady Daphne cut him off abruptly. "Mrs Pearce my housekeeper will keep an eye on you, and pay you your sixpence. I must be off to the hairdresser."
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Gorbals set out his dustsheets carefully and set about preparing the first fireplace. As he poked his brush further and further up Lady Daphne's chimney, he glanced around at the books. There were hundreds of them. What he wouldn't give for a library like this! He dare not touch them for fear of dirtying them but when the housekeeper came in she found him standing gazing at a wall of books, his mouth hanging open.
"Can you read, child?" she inquired kindly.
"Aye, I can read." replied Gorbals proudly. "And I can write my name." he glanced out of the window at the building across the street with the word "GORBALS" tagged across it in graffiti style. Mrs Pearce was a kindly woman and did not like to see child poverty (or graffiti).
"When you've finished the chimney you can have a bath and I'll give you a meal," she offered. Gorbals didn't fancy the sound of the bath much, but he hadn't eaten in days. He decided the ordeal by soap and water was worth it.
"Hae ye got that Wright's coal tar soap?" he asked hopefully.
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When Lady Daphne returned from the hairdresser, she called down to Mrs Pearce for some supper. The housekeeper appeared a few minutes later with the newly washed and fed Gorbals following behind carrying a second tray. Lady Daphne looked up briefly from her copy of Phonetics World.
"Mrs Pearce, is this your new kitchenmaid?"
Gorbals came out from behind the voluminous aprons of Mrs Pearce, and said shyly:
"I wash me face an' 'ands before I come, I did."
Lady Daphne looked up again slowly, and stared this time.
"The noble savage ..." she mused. "I do believe this creature from the wilds might be tamed. Would you like to be a proper English gentleman, child?"
Everything in Gorbals' heart screamed "Would I fuck!" but his stomach and his head argued back eloquently. Three meals a day, and all the books you can read. He smiled in the most English way he could manage.
"Oh yes please Ma'am." he replied. "Ah dinnae hae mich education but I aim tae improve masel. Beggin yer pardon Ma'am."
"What did he say?" asked the renowned expert in regional dialect.
