Mrs. Hobbs Would
Come To My Bedside In The Morning And Ask Me If I Would Like To Buy
A Fowl.
When I looked upon the fowl, limp in death, with its
headless neck hanging dejectedly over the edge of the plate, its
giblets and kidneys lying in immodest confusion on the outside of
itself, and its liver 'tucked under its wing, poor thing,' I never
wanted to buy it.
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.
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