“Did you say he kept a shop?” put in the marchioness, who already began to see in the alderman a possible ally. “What does he sell?”
“Boots. Since I was returned for Tooting my unworthy feet have been clothed in Alderman Dobbin’s handiwork. The shoes which I have on are made of a substance which he supposes to be patent leather. They are his choice, not mine. I am as wax in his hands. If he required me to wear Wellingtons, I should obey. At his bidding I have changed my tailor and discharged my groom; and if ever I want to choose a wife I shall first have to ask Alderman Dobbin’s consent.”
“I have no doubt he is a very sensible man, and you could not do better than take his advice,” said the marchioness, who was quite serious. “I am very glad he is coming here. We don’t see nearly enough of the—er—the other classes. When my husband was Master of the Deerhounds, I once gave a thing they called a Primrose Tea down at our place in Worcestershire, but I didn’t speak to any of the creatures that came to it, except one dreadful person, who, they told me, was a justice of the peace. He called me ‘My lady,’ exactly like that delightful character who wants to murder everybody in one of somebody’s novels.”
“I expect the alderman will call you ‘ma’am,’” observed Hammond, reflectively.
“I once knew a solicitor in a Welsh town,” said Despencer, slowly, “where they had just elected a peer of royal descent as mayor, and this solicitor urged that they should return another solicitor, who happened to be a Jubilee knight, to the town council, in order that his lordship might have some one of his own rank to talk to.”
This time it was the marchioness who administered a snub to the unlucky speaker. She observed severely:
“As soon as any gentleman, in whatever position, has received the accolade of his sovereign, he ceases, in my opinion, to be a proper subject for ridicule.”
Just as this rebuke was ended the door opened quickly, and a small, insignificant-looking man in a rather shabby lounge suit strolled into the room. On catching sight of the group round the marchioness he stopped short, and looked as if meditating flight.
The marchioness promptly took him into custody.
“Pray come in, George! This is quite too charmingly domestic and suburban,” she observed, addressing the company generally. “My husband has actually come home to tea.”