Volume I Part 14 (1/2)
”How did she come?” snappishly inquired the chamber-maid.
”By the Royal Regulator,” answered the waiter. ”But inside, Susan, inside, you know, and with her lady's-maid here to wait upon her; so mind what you're about, I tell you.”
”Come this way, young woman, if you please,” said the experienced official, who was not to be bullied out of a first-floor room by the report of d.u.c.h.ess-like airs, or the sight of a lanky child for a waiting-maid. So Betty was made to mount to a proper stage-coach elevation.
Mrs. Barnaby, however, got her tea, and her toast, and her m.u.f.fins, greatly to her satisfaction, even though the master of the establishment knew nothing about it; and though she did make Agnes's slender arm pay for the second flight of stairs, in order to prove how very little used she was to such fatigue, she was, on the whole, well pleased with her room when she reached it, well pleased with her bed, well pleased with her breakfast, and ready to set off as soon as it was over to look out for lodgings and adventures.
CHAPTER XIV.
HOW TO CHOOSE LODGINGS.--REASONS FOR LAYING ASIDE WIDOW'S WEEDS.--LADY-LIKE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.--AFFECTIONATE FORETHOUGHT.--CHARMING SENSIBILITY.--GENEROUS INTENTIONS.--A CLEVER LETTER, BUT ONE UPON WHICH DOCTORS MAY DISAGREE.
Of lodgings Mrs. Barnaby saw enough to offer a most satisfactory selection, and heartily to weary Agnes, who followed her up and down innumerable stairs, and stood behind her, during what seemed endless colloquies with a mult.i.tude of respectable-looking landladies, long after she had flattered herself that her aunt must have been suited to her heart's desire by what she had already seen. Of adventures the quiet streets of Exeter were not likely to produce many; but the widow had the satisfaction of observing that lounging gentlemen were abundant, a cavalry officer still visible now and then, and that hardly one man in ten of any cla.s.s pa.s.sed her without staring her full in the face.
At length, after having walked about till she was sufficiently tired herself, and till poor Agnes looked extremely pale, she entered a pastry-cook's shop for the purpose of eating buns, and of taking into deliberate consideration whether she should secure apartments in the Crescent, which were particularly comfortable, or some she had seen in the High Street, which were particularly gay.
Mrs. Barnaby often spoke aloud to herself while appearing to address her niece, and so she did now.
”That's a monstrous pretty drawing-room, certainly; and if I was sure that I should be able to get any company to come and see me, I'd stick to the Crescent.... But it's likely enough that I shall find n.o.body to know, and in that case it would be most horribly dull.... But if we did not get a soul from Monday morning to Sat.u.r.day night, we could never be dull in the High Street. Such lots of country gentlemen!... And they always look about them more than any other men.” And then, suddenly addressing her niece in good earnest, she added,--
”Don't you think so, Agnes?”
”I don't know, ma'am,” replied Agnes, in an accent that would have delighted her aunt Compton, and which might have offended some sort of aunts; but it only amused her aunt Barnaby, who laughed heartily, and said, for the benefit of the young woman who presided at the counter, as well as for that of her niece,--
”Yes, my dear, that's quite right; that's the way we all begin.... And you will know all, how, and about it, too, long and long before you will own it.”
Agnes suddenly thought of Empton parsonage, its pretty lawn, its flowers, its books, and its gentle intellectual inmates, and involuntarily she closed her eyes for a moment and sighed profoundly; but the reverie was not permitted to last long, for Mrs. Barnaby, having finished her laugh and her bun, rose from her chair, saying,--
”Come along, child!... The High Street will suit us best, won't it, Agnes?”
”You must best know what you best like, aunt,” replied the poor girl almost in a whisper, ”but the Crescent seemed to me very quiet and agreeable.”
”Quiet!... Yes, I should think so!... And if that's your fancy, it is rather lucky that it's my business to choose, and not yours. And it's my business to pay too.... It's just sixpence,” she added with a laugh, and pulling out her purse. ”One bun for the young lady, and five for me.
Come along, Agnes ... and do throw back that thick c.r.a.pe veil, child....
Your bonnet will look as well again!”
Another half hour settled the situation of their lodgings in Exeter.
Smart Mrs. Tompkin's first-floor in the High Street, with a bed in the garret for Jerningham, was secured for three months; at the end of which time Mrs. Barnaby was secretly determined as nearly as possible to lay aside her mourning, and come forth with the apple blossoms, dazzling in freshness, and _couleur de rose_. The bargain for the lodgings, however, was not concluded without some little difficulty, for Mrs. Tompkins, who owned that she considered herself as the most respectable lodging-house keeper in Exeter, did not receive this second and conclusive visit from the elegant widow with as much apparent satisfaction as was expected.
”Here I am again, Mrs. Tompkins!” said the lively lady in c.r.a.pe and bombasin. ”I can see no lodgings I like as well as yours, after all.”
”Well.... I don't know, ma'am, about that,” replied the cautious Mrs.
Tompkins; ”but, to say the truth, I'm not over and above fond of lady lodgers ... they give a deal more trouble than gentlemen, and I've always been used to have the officers as long as there were any to be had; and even now, with only three cavalry companies in the barracks, it's a rare chance to find me without them.”
”But as you do happen to be without them now, Mrs. Tompkins, and as your bill is up, I suppose your lodgings are to let, and I am willing to take them.”
”And may I beg the favour of your name, ma'am?” said the respectable landlady, stiffly.