“Who is Polly?”
“Our old landlady’s sister — my accomplice — the woman who keeps the lodging house in Church Street, Mrs Simpson.”
“You don’t mean to run away again?”
“No. At least not yet. But she has a lodger who teaches elocution; and as he is very poor, Mrs. Wilkins — Polly’s other sister and my late chaperon — thinks he would give me some cheap lessons. And I must have them very cheap, or else go without; for father will hardly trust me with a shilling now. He has never even given me back my purse I have only the remainder of the man’s money, and ten pounds that I had laid up.”
“And are you going toke a lesson today?”
“No, no. I only want to see the man and ask his terms. If I try to go alone, I shall be watched and suspected. With you I shall be safe: they regard you as a monument of good sense and propriety. If we meet any of the girls, and they ask where we are going, do not mention Church Street.”
“But how can we evade them if they ask us?”
“We won’t evade them. We will tell them a lie.”
“I certainly will not, Madge.
“I certainly will. If people interfere with my liberty, and ask have no business to ask, I will meet force with fraud, and fool them to the top of their bent, as your friend Shakespeare says. You need not look shocked. You, who are mistress of your house, and rule your father with a rod of iron, are no judge of my position. Put on your hat, and come along. We can walk there in five minutes.”
“I will go with but I shall not be a party to any deception.
Madge made a face, but got her bonnet without further words. They went out together, and traversed the passage from Kensington Palace Gardens to Church Street, where Magdalen led the way to a shabby house, with a card inscribed Furnished Apartments in the window.
“Is Mrs Simpson in her room?” said Magdalen, entering unceremoniously as soon as the door was opened.
“Yes, ma’am,” said the servant, whose rule it was to address women in bonnets as ma’am, and women in hats as Miss. “She ‘ave moved to the second floor since you was here last. The parlors is let.”
“I will go up,” said Magdalen. “Come on, Mary.” And she ran upstairs, followed more slowly by Mary, who thought the house close and ill kept, and gathered her cloak about her to prevent it touching the banisters. When they reached the second floor, they knocked at the door; but no one answered. Above them was a landing, accessible by a narrow uncarpeted stair. They could hear a shrill voice in conversation with a deep one on the third floor, Whilst they waited, the shrill voice rose higher and higher; and the deep voice began to growl ominously.
“A happy pair,” whispered Mary. “We had better go downstairs and get the servant to find Mrs Simpson.”
“No: wait a little. That is Polly’s voice, I am sure. Hark!”
The door above was opened violently and a powerful voice resounded, saying, “Begone, you Jezebel.”
“The man!” exclaimed Madge.
Mr Jack!” exclaimed Mary. And they looked wonderingly at one another, and listened.
“How dare you offer me sich language, sir? Do you know whose ‘ouse this is?”
“I tell you once for all that I am neither able nor willing to pay you one farthing. Hold your tongue until I have finished.” This command was emphasized by a stamp that shook the floor. “I have eaten nothing today; and I cannot afford to starve. Here is my shirt. Here is my waistcoat. Take them — come! take them, or I’ll stuff them down your throat — and give them to your servant to pawn: she has pawned the shirt before; and let her get me something to eat with the money. Do you hear?”
“I will not have my servant go to the pawnshop for you and get my house a bad name.”
“Then go and pawn them yourself. And do not come to this room again with your threats and complaints unless you wish to be strangled.*
“I’d like to see you lay a finger on me a married woman. Do you call yourself a gentleman—”
Here there was a low growl, a sound of hasty footprints, an inarticulate remonstrance, a checked scream, and then a burst of sobbing and then the words, “You’re as hard as a stone, Mr Jack. My poor little Rosie. Ohoo!”
“Stop that noise, you crocodile. What is the matter with you now?”
“My Rosie.”
“What is the matter with your Rosie? You are sniveling to have her back because she is happier in the country than stifling in this den with you, you ungovernable old hag.”
“God forgive you for that word — ohoo! She ain’t in the country.”
“Then where the devil is she; and what did you mean by telling me she was there?”
“She’s in the ‘ospittle. For the Lord’s sake don’t let it get out on me, Mr Jack, or I should have my house empty. The poor little darling took the scarlet fever; and — and—”
“And you deserve to be hanged for letting her catch it. Why didn’t you take proper care of her?”
“How could I help it, Mr. Jack? I’m sure if I could have took it myself instead—”
“I wish to Heaven you had, and the unfortunate child and everybody else might have been well rid of you.”
“Oh, don’t say that, Mr Jack. I may have spoke hasty to you; but its very hard to be owed money, and not be able to get the things for my blessed angel to be sent to the country in, and she going to be discharged on Friday. You needn’t look at me like that, Mr Jack. I wouldn’t deceive you of all people.”
“You would deceive your guardian angel — if you had one — for a shilling. Give me back those things. Here is a ring which you can pawn instead. It is worth something considerable, I suppose. Take what money you require for the child, and bring me the rest. But mind! Not one farthing of it shall you have for yourself, nor should you if I owed you ten years’ rent. I would not pawn it to save you from starvation. And get me some dinner, and some music paper — the same you used to get me, twenty-four staves to the page. Off with you. What are you gaping at?”
“Why, wherever did you get this ring, Mr. Jack?”
“That’s nothing to you. Take it away; and make haste with my dinner.”
“But did you buy it? Or was it—” The voice abruptly broke into a smothered remonstrance; and the landlady appeared on the landing, apparently pushed out by the shoulders. Then the lodger’s door slammed.
“Polly,” cried Magdalen impatiently. “Polly.”
“Lor’, Miss Madge!”
“Come down here. We have waited ten minutes for you.”
Mrs. Simpson came down, and brought her two visitors into her sittingroom on the second floor. “Won’t you sit down Miss?” she said to Mary. “Don’t pull that chair from the wall, Miss Madge, its leg is broke. Oh, dear! I’m greatly worrited, what with one thing and another.”
“We have been listening to a battle between you and the and the lodger upstairs” said Magdalen, “and you seemed to be getting the worst of it.”
“No one knows what I’ve gone through with that man.” said Mrs. Simpson, wiping her eyes. “He walked into the room a fortnight ago when I was out, without asking leave. Knocks