The Last Window Tapped by the Knocker-up

The air in London was cold and gray. It was 1890, and the sun was not yet up. Arthur walked slowly down the narrow street. He carried a long, thin pole made of wood. Arthur was a 'knocker-up.' For thirty years, his job was to wake people up for work.

He stopped at a small brick house. He lifted his pole and tapped quietly on a high window. Tap, tap, tap. Inside the house, a lamp turned on. A man waved to Arthur. That was the signal. The man was awake, and Arthur’s job there was finished.

But today was different. Arthur felt sad. In his pocket, he had a small, metal object. It was an alarm clock. For many years, people did not have clocks. They needed Arthur. But now, factories were making alarm clocks. They were cheap and loud. Tomorrow, his customers would use these metal boxes instead of his wooden pole.

He reached the last house on the street. This was the window of Mrs. Bennett. She worked in a factory. Arthur tapped on the glass. Usually, Mrs. Bennett opened the window and said, 'Thank you, Arthur.'

Today, she opened the window, but she looked sad. 'Is it true, Arthur?' she asked. 'Is this the last morning?'

'Yes,' Arthur said. 'The machines are here. You have your clock now.'

Mrs. Bennett looked at the metal clock on her table. 'The clock is loud,' she whispered. 'But it does not say good morning. It does not know my name.'

Arthur smiled. He looked at his wooden pole. He was not just a clock; he was a friend to the neighborhood. He tapped the window one last time. 'Goodbye, Mrs. Bennett,' he said. He walked away into the fog, leaving the quiet streets to the ticking of the new world.