Personal faintness, and an overpowering personal candour, were the distinguishing features of Mrs. Billickin’s organisation. She came languishing out of her own exclusive back parlour, with the air of having been expressly brought-to for the purpose, from an accumulation of several swoons.
“I hope I see you well, sir,” said Mrs. Billickin, recognising her visitor with a bend.
“Thank you, quite well. And you, ma’am?” returned Mr. Grewgious.
“I am as well,” said Mrs. Billickin, becoming aspirational with excess of faintness, “as I hever ham.”
“My ward and an elderly lady,” said Mr. Grewgious, “wish to find a genteel lodging for a month or so. Have you any apartments available, ma’am?”
“Mr. Grewgious,” returned Mrs. Billickin, “I will not deceive you; far from it. I have apartments available.”
This with the air of adding: “Convey me to the stake, if you will; but while I live, I will be candid.”
“And now, what apartments, ma’am?” asked Mr. Grewgious, cosily. To tame a certain severity apparent on the part of Mrs. Billickin.
“There is this sitting-room—which, call it what you will, it is the front parlour, Miss,” said Mrs. Billickin, impressing Rosa into the conversation: “the back parlour being what I cling to and never part with; and there is two bedrooms at the top of the ’ouse with gas laid on. I do not tell you that your bedroom floors is firm, for firm they are not. The gas-fitter himself allowed, that to make a firm job, he must go right under your jistes, and it were not worth the outlay as a yearly tenant so to do. The piping is carried above your jistes, and it is best that it should be made known to you.”
Mr. Grewgious and Rosa exchanged looks of some dismay, though they had not the least idea what latent horrors this carriage of the piping might involve. Mrs. Billickin put her hand to her heart, as having eased it of a load.