But One Morning, In Taking My Walk, I Chanced
Upon An Idyllic Spot:
The front of the whitewashed cottage
embowered in flowers, bird-cages built into these bowers, a little
notice saying 'Canaries for Sale,' and an English rose of a baby
sitting in the path stringing hollyhock buds.
There was no
apartment sign, but I walked in, ostensibly to buy some flowers. I
met Mrs. Bobby, loved her at first sight, the passion was
reciprocal, and I wheedled her into giving me her own sitting-room
and the bedroom above it. It only remained now for me to break my
projected change of residence to my present landlady, and this I
distinctly dreaded. Of course Mrs. Hobbs said, when I timidly
mentioned the subject, that she wished she had known I was leaving
an hour before, for she had just refused a lady and her husband,
most desirable persons, who looked as if they would be permanent.
Can it be that lodgers radiate the permanent or transitory quality,
quite unknown to themselves?
I was very much embarrassed, as she threatened to become tearful;
and as I was determined never to give up Mrs. Bobby, I said
desperately, "I must leave you, Mrs. Hobbs, I must indeed; but as
you seem to feel so badly about it, I'll go out and find you another
lodger in my place."
The fact is, I had seen, not long before, a lady going in and out of
houses, as I had done on the night of my arrival, and it occurred to
me that I might pursue her, and persuade her to take my place in
Holly House and buy the headless fowl. I walked for nearly an hour
before I was rewarded with a glimpse of my victim's grey dress
whisking round the corner of Pump Street. I approached, and, with a
smile that was intended to be a justification in itself, I explained
my somewhat unusual mission. She was rather unreceptive at first;
she thought evidently that I was to have a percentage on her, if I
succeeded in capturing her alive and delivering her to Mrs. Hobbs;
but she was very weary and discouraged, and finally fell in with my
plans. She accompanied me home, was introduced to Mrs. Hobbs, and
engaged my rooms from the following day. As she had a sister, she
promised to be a more lucrative incumbent than I; she enjoyed
ordering food in a raw state, did not care for views, and thought
purple clematis vines only a shelter for insects: so every one was
satisfied, and I most of all when I wrestled with Mrs. Hobb's
itemised bill for two nights and one day. Her weekly account must
be rolled on a cylinder, I should think, like the list of Don Juan's
amours, for the bill of my brief residence beneath her roof was
quite three feet in length, each of the following items being set
down every twenty-four hours:-
The total was seventeen shillings and sixpence, and as Mrs. Hobbs
wrote upon it, in her neat English hand, 'Received payment, with
respectful thanks,' she carefully blotted the wet ink, and remarked
casually that service was not included in 'attendance,' but that she
would leave the amount to me.
Chapter XVIII. I meet Mrs. Bobby.
Mrs. Bobby and I were born for each other, though we have been a
long time in coming together. She is the pink of neatness and
cheeriness, and she has a broad, comfortable bosom on which one
might lay a motherless head, if one felt lonely in a stranger land.
I never look at her without remembering what the poet Samuel Rogers
said of Lady Parke: 'She is so good that when she goes to heaven
she will find no difference save that her ankles will be thinner and
her head better dressed.'
No raw fowls visit my bedside here; food comes as I wish it to come
when I am painting, like manna from heaven. Mrs. Bobby brings me
three times a day something to eat, and though it is always whatever
she likes, I always agree in her choice, and send the blue dishes
away empty. She asked me this morning if I enjoyed my 'h'egg,' and
remarked that she had only one fowl, but it laid an egg for me every
morning, so I might know it was 'fresh as fresh.' It is certainly
convenient: the fowl lays the egg from seven to seven-thirty, I eat
it from eight to eight-thirty; no haste, no waste. Never before
have I seen such heavenly harmony between supply and demand. Never
before have I been in such visible and unbroken connection with the
source of my food. If I should ever desire two eggs, or if the fowl
should turn sulky or indolent, I suppose Mrs. Bobby would have to go
half a mile to the nearest shop, but as yet everything has worked to
a charm. The cow is milked into my pitcher in the morning, and the
fowl lays her egg almost literally in my egg-cup. One of the little
Bobbies pulls a kidney bean or a tomato or digs a potato for my
dinner, about half an hour before it is served. There is a sheep in
the garden, but I hardly think it supplies the chops; those, at
least, are not raised on the premises.
One grievance I did have at first, but Mrs. Bobby removed the thorn
from the princess' pillow as soon as it was mentioned. Our next-
door neighbour had a kennel of homesick, discontented, and sleepless
puppies of various breeds, that were in the habit of howling all
night until Mrs. Bobby expostulated with Mrs. Gooch in my behalf.
She told me that she found Mrs. Gooch very snorty, very snorty
indeed, because the pups were an 'obby of her 'usbants; whereupon
Mrs. Bobby responded that if Mrs. Gooch's 'usbant 'ad to 'ave an
'obby, it was a shame it 'ad to be 'owling pups to keep h'innocent
people awake o' nights.
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