lady, widow of a solicitor: a visitor had called to see her. It was but a momentary fancy. The next instant Reality reasserted itself. Mrs. Pennycherry, a lodging-house keeper, existing precariously upon a daily round of petty meannesses, was prepared for contest with a possible new boarder, who fortunately looked an inexperienced young gentleman.
“Someone has recommended me to you,” began Mrs. Pennycherry; “may I ask who?”
But the stranger waved the question aside as immaterial.
“You might not remember—him,” he smiled. “He thought that I should do well to pass the few months I am given—that I have to be in London, here. You can take me in?”
Mrs. Pennycherry thought that she would be able to take the stranger in.
“A room to sleep in,” explained the stranger, “—any room will do—with food and drink sufficient for a man, is all that I require.”
“For breakfast,” began Mrs. Pennycherry, “I always give—”
“What is right and proper, I am convinced,” interrupted the stranger. “Pray do not trouble to go into detail, Mrs. Pennycherry. With whatever it is I shall be content.”
Mrs. Pennycherry, puzzled, shot a quick glance at the stranger, but his face, though the gentle eyes were smiling, was frank and serious.
“At all events you will see the room,” suggested Mrs. Pennycherry, “before we discuss terms.”
“Certainly,” agreed the stranger. “I am a little tired and shall be glad to rest there.”
Mrs. Pennycherry led the way upward; on the landing of the third floor, paused a moment undecided, then opened the door of the back bedroom.
“It is very comfortable,” commented the stranger.
“For this room,” stated Mrs. Pennycherry, “together with full board, consisting of—”
“Of everything needful. It goes without saying,” again interrupted the stranger with his quiet grave smile.
“I have generally asked,” continued Mrs.
Prev.
Back
Top