Well, on the Monday, off I packed my dresses, with the dirty linen, to the wash, and gave the woman a whole string of directions as to how I wanted them done. When the Saturday came, I declare it was such a fine warm day, that I slipped on the clear muslin that I had kept back, and went out in the afternoon to pay the last week’s bills; and while I was in the neighbourhood, I thought I might just as well run round to Mrs. L—ckl—y’s, and ask that sweet woman to take a walk down Oxford-street with me and look at the shops; for, to tell the truth, I felt that I wanted a mouthful of fresh air. So off Mrs. L—ckl—y and I set together; and though there was not so much as a goat’s hair or a mare’s tail to be seen in the sky when we started, of course, as usual, we had no sooner set foot in Regent-street than it began to spit a bit. However, as we thought it would not last, and we didn’t see the fun of spoiling our bonnets, why we both of us agreed that it would be best to step into Hodge and Lowman’s, and just look at a few things that we didn’t want, until it had given over. But, oh dear, no! nothing of the kind; for though we must have stopped there, I should say, a good half-hour, pulling the things over, and having first this dress out of the window, and then that, until we put the poor man to such trouble, that Mrs. L—ckl—y whispered to me that she really thought that she must buy a yard or two of sarsnet ribbon, just for the look of the thing; it really seemed as if the fates had conspired against my clear muslin, for, upon my word, it only kept getting worse and worse, and came down at last in such straight lines, that it really looked as if it was raining iron wires. So, as it was getting close to dinner time, and I thought Edward would be coming home and fidgetting again about the place for want of his dinner, I told Mrs. L—ckl—y, that, since a cab up to her house, in Albany-street, would come to the same money as the bus, why it would be much better to take one, instead of having a parcel of wet umbrellas stuck right against one’s knees, and the dirty boots of those filthy men wiped right on the flounces of one’s dress—especially, too, as I knew Mrs. L—ckl—y had too much of the lady in her ever to be mean enough to accept of my trumpery sixpence towards such a trifle as the shilling fare. Accordingly, we jumped into the first cab we could catch, and on the road I made up my mind pretty quickly not to go taking the thing on to P—rk V—ll—ge, for I saw, as plain as the nose on my face, that I should have the whole fare to pay if I did, for, of course it would look just as bad for me to accept of her beggarly sixpence as it would for her ever to think of taking mine. When the cab stopped at Mrs. L—ckl—y’s, I told her I would step in and arrange my hair just for a minute, and of course, I couldn’t do less than offer to pay the fare, never for an instant fancying that she would be stingy enough to take advantage of my generosity; but, like a stupid, I must go overdoing it, for the more she kept refusing, the more I kept pressing, and when she protested “she wouldn’t listen to such a thing for a moment,” I (just for the look of the thing) directly declared that I would insist upon doing it, whereupon, drat it, if her ladyship wasn’t shabby enough to say, “Well, then, if you insist upon it, my dear, I suppose I must give way,” and scampered off into the house, leaving me with that shameful impostor of a cabman, who wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than eighteenpence. Augh! it isn’t the trumpery one-and-sixpence that I grumble about, but the nasty mean spirit in which I was left to pay it. Thank goodness, I couldn’t be guilty of such meanness—no, not if I was to die for it to-morrow; but then, you know, some people are so different to others.
Well, after I had sat for a minute, twiddling my thumbs in Mrs. L—ckl—y’s front parlour, I said, that as it seemed to be holding up a little, I thought that if she would be kind enough to lend me an umbrella, I should be able to get as far as our house without much inconvenience. So I had my umbrella, and off I started; but then, bother take the thing! it was one of those thin wiry Germans, with ribs no thicker than bodkins, and as the wind was rather high, I declare if, at the very first turning I came to, the trumpery bit of goods didn’t turn right inside out, and do what I would, I could neither get it down nor back again into its proper shape, and there was I obliged to go stalking all up Albany-street, holding up the inverted thing, looking like a great big funnel, and which, instead of keeping the rain off me, of course only served to collect all the water over my head like a cistern, which, being full of holes, of course it let through again, just like a shower-bath, and while I kept continually looking up to see where the dickens all the water that was pouring down upon me could come from, I kept stepping into all kinds of puddles, right up to the cotton tops of my white silk stockings, so that by the time I got home, I was positively soaking, and all my hair and things hung about me, for all the world like the feathers of the cocks and hens on a rainy day.
As soon as I got up-stairs in the bed-room, I rang for Betsy, and asked her if they’d brought the clean things home from the wash, for I thought I’d better put on my clean morning wrapper.
“Oh, yes, mum,” she answered; “they brought them an hour or two ago.”
“Then just bring them up-stairs to me, there’s a good girl,” I replied.
“If you please, mum,” she returned, “a man called immediately after they’d brought them, and said that the wrong basket had been left by mistake, and took it away, saying he would bring ours in a minute or two.”
“And do you mean to stand there, woman, and tell me that you were simpleton enough to give it?” I continued, as the whole truth flashed upon me; for mother had had the very same wicked trick played off upon her, and had cautioned me against it herself.
“Yes, mum, I did,” she answered, quite coolly, “and he’s never been back since.”
“Of course he hasn’t,” I shrieked out, “and never will you set eyes upon him, or my clean linen again. Oh! you good-for-nothing, shameful, novel-reading, story-believing hussy. Now, see what your highly exciting romances have led you to do. Here am I, who have always been the best of mistresses to you, wet to the skin, and without a clean morning wrapper to put on, nor even so much as a dress fit to go to church in to-morrow, to say nothing of the two pairs of beautiful linen sheets that you’ve wilfully lost for me, and the very white trousers that my husband was married in, and which I wouldn’t have parted with for untold gold. There, go down stairs and hide your face, and think how you’ll relish it when you have to pay for it, and find, as you most assuredly will, that you haven’t got a penny to receive at the end of the year.”
However, it was useless fretting; there were three of as beautiful summer dresses as ever were made, and the beautiful afternoon’s ride I had promised myself after church on the morrow, all gone; for my sweet pretty Swiss cambric was among the number, and I could never think of walking in Kensington Gardens in that grubby, seedy, hot, plaid thing, that I had worn all the winter through. As I said before, it was useless fretting, so I changed from top to toe, and put on some of the things I had taken off during the week, which, to say the least, were dry; and, as I wasn’t in the humour to care a pin how I looked, why, I popped on my flannel dressing-gown, for, to tell the truth, I felt rather chilly, and Mr. Edward might tell me, for the hundredth time, that I looked like an old watchman in it, as much as he pleased, for what I cared.