At five o'clock, with sufficient sharpness, Ralph Newton got out of a Hansom cab at the door of Alexandrina Cottage. "He's cum in a 'Ansom," said Mrs. Neefit, looking over the blind of the drawing-room window. "That's three-and-six," said Neefit, with a sigh. "You didn't think he was going to walk, father?" said Polly. "There's the Underground within two miles, if the Midland didn't suit," said Mr. Neefit. "Nonsense, father. Of course he'd come in a cab!" said Polly. Mrs. Neefit was not able to add the stinging remark with which her tongue was laden, as Ralph Newton was already in the house. She smoothed her apron, crossed her hands, and uttered a deep sigh. There could be no more going down into the kitchen now to see whether the salmon was boiled, or to provide for the proper dishing of the lamb. "This is quite condescending of you, Mr. Newton," said the breeches-maker, hardly daring to shake hands with his guest,—though in his shop he was always free enough with his customers in this matter. Polly looked as though she thought there was no condescension whatever, held up her head, and laughed and joked, and asked some questions about the German at the shop, whom she declared she was never allowed to see now, and whose voice she swore she had never heard. "Is he dumb, Mr. Newton? Father never will tell me anything about him. You must know."
"Laws, Polly, what does it matter?" said Mrs. Neefit. And they were the only words she had spoken. Polly, from the first, had resolved that she would own to the shop. If Mr. Newton came to see her, he should come to see a girl who was not ashamed to speak of herself as the daughter of a breeches-maker.
"He don't talk much, does he, Mr. Newton?" said Mr. Neefit, laughing merrily.
"Do tell me one thing," said Ralph. "I know it's a secret, but I'll promise not to tell it. What is his real name?"
"This isn't fair," said Mr. Neefit, greatly delighted. "All trades have their secrets. Come, come, Mr. Newton!"
"I know his name," said Polly.
"Do tell me," said Ralph, coming close to her, as though he might hear it in a whisper.
"Mr. Neefit, I wish you wouldn't talk about such things here," said the offended matron. "But now here's dinner." She was going to take her guest's arm, but Mr. Neefit arranged it otherwise.
"The old uns and the young uns;—that's the way to pair them," said Mr. Neefit,—understanding nature better than he did precedence; and so they walked into the next room. Mrs. Neefit was not quite sure whether her husband had or had not done something improper. She had her doubts, and they made her uncomfortable.
The dinner went off very well. Neefit told how he had gone himself to the fishmonger's for that bit of salmon, how troubled his wife had been in mind about the lamb, and how Polly had made the salad. "And I'll tell you what I did, Mr. Newton; I brought down that bottle of champagne in my pocket myself;—gave six bob for it at Palmer's, in Bond Street. My wife says we ain't got glasses fit to drink it out of."