Oh dear, oh dear! I thought I should have fainted when I lifted up the lid. Goodness gracious me! if I hadn’t got some brute of a man’s box, instead of my own. I flew to the bell and nearly pulled it down. When the landlady came up, I shrieked out, “They’ve given me the wrong box; you must send down to the station directly and see if mine is there, for I know I shall be laid up for months with a cold, if I don’t have it.”
“Mercy me, mum, you don’t say so!” replied that landlady; “and I shouldn’t wonder if yours has gone on to Southampton, now; however, the porter will be here when the next train comes in, and then I can ask him all about it, for really there isn’t a single soul in the house that I can spare at present.”
“Why, my good woman,” I exclaimed, “I’m drenched to the skin, and what am I to do in the meantime?”
“You shall have your tea directly, mum, and the next train wont be above an hour at the most. Would you like a nice hot chop with it, mum?”
“Chop! No!” I screamed, “I don’t want any chops; I want my box.”
“Very well, mum, you shall have it as soon as possible—with a nice mixed pickle, mum;” and then, hearing one of the bells ring, out she flew, leaving me to steam away before the fire, just as if I was a potato.
There I sat, “dratting” the stupidity of that Emma, until positively I felt the shivers coming on, and was convinced that if I didn’t do something, I should be having a doctor’s bill as long as my arm to pay, and be, perhaps, a martyr to the rheumatism for the rest of my days. All of a sudden, just as I was driven to desperation, it struck me that perhaps the plaguy box belonged to a married couple, and there might be a gown or a wrapper in it that one could put on; and as I dare say whoever had got my trunk wouldn’t be very particular with it, I didn’t see why I should go sparing theirs. Accordingly I began unpacking it. The first thing I took out was a great big ugly pilot coat, smelling away of tobacco smoke enough to knock one down,—then, three or four coloured shirts, some with blue stripes like a bed-tick, and others with large red spots, as if they had been made out of a clown’s dress,—then there was a box of shaving soap—and a bottle of whisker-dye—and a fishing-rod—and a couple of pairs of trowsers, with patterns big enough for druggets—and a bothering German flute—a bright blue surtout—a magic razor-strop—a pot of Yarmouth bloaters—a volume of Blair’s Sermons—and some socks, oh, la! as full of large round holes as the front of a peep-show. I really didn’t know what to do. It was impossible for me to sit trembling away there like a jelly, so I made up my mind just to slip on the pilot coat, and a pair of the socks, which at least were dry, while I hung my gown over the chair, before the fire, and then wait patiently until I could gain some tidings of my lost box. When I took a peep at myself in the glass, upon my word, if, with that beastly pilot coat on, I didn’t look more like an old apple-woman in the streets than a respectable married female. However, I did feel more comfortable, and it was not the time to think about looks.
Whilst I was seated in front of the fire, with the collar of the coat turned up so as to keep my neck warm, and longing for a nice cup of warm tea, who should come in but the maid with the tray, but no sooner did she catch sight of me, than she took me for a brute of a man, and saying, “I beg your pardon, sir, I thought it was the lady in the next room,” she whisked out of the place, although I called out—“Here! here! that tea is for me!” as loud as ever I could.
A lady in the next room, then! thought I to myself—I’ll go and ask her to lend me a few things till I can get my own, for I’m sure she can never have the heart to refuse me. So directly I heard the maid go down stairs, I went and knocked at her door, and when she said “Come in,” I positively felt so ashamed of the figure I knew I was, that I declare I hadn’t the courage to look her in the face; so, with my eyes cast down on the ground, I said, “I have to apologize—for intruding upon you—but—I thought that perhaps—you might have a gown or so—that you did not want—and which would be kind enough to let me—have for a short time—for”——and I was going on to explain the distressing situation I was in, when the creature cut me short by hallooing out in a horribly gruff voice, “A gown or two that I don’t want! hang me if I haven’t got a whole box full in the next room that are of no use to me, and that anybody’s welcome to.”
I was about to express my thanks for what appeared to me to be the height of generosity, especially from one that I had never seen before in all my life, when, on turning my eyes towards the stranger, I couldn’t help thinking that whoever it was, she had either got on my beautiful Barège gown, or else one of the very same pattern, and I was just about to march round and see whether it had got a cross body, as mine had, before I accused any one of wearing my things—when, lo and behold! the person called out, “Where the deuce did you get that pea-coat from?”