When Calliston was away, his Lares and Penates were looked after by a worthy lady, who rejoiced in the name of Mrs. Povy, an appellation which has in its sound a certain aroma of Pepys' Diary, but Lord Calliston and his friends not being acquainted with the ingenuous pages of the quaint Samuel, were unaware of this, so Mrs. Povy was generally known by the name of Totty. She was elderly, very stout, with a round red face the tint of which was due to health and not drink, as she seldom imbibed anything stronger than tea. Totty was addicted to a kind of regulation uniform, consisting of a black dress, a huge white apron, and a muslin cap, set coquettishly on the side of her elderly head. She was one of those quaint old motherly creatures, who never offend, no matter what they say, and she frequently lectured Calliston on the irregularity of his life, which that noble lord accepted with an amused laugh.
The late Mr. Povy had long since departed this life, and having been what is vulgarly known as a warm man, had left Totty comfortably off, so that lady occupied her present position more from choice than necessity. She had a gruff voice, and her casual remarks had the sound of positive commands, which she found of great use with refractory servants.
Totty learned from the papers that Lord Calliston had gone off to the Azores with Lady Balscombe, and expressed her disapproval of his action in the most emphatic manner to Mrs. Swizzle (a friend of her youth) as they sat over their four-o'clock tea.
"Ah," said Totty, fixing her eyes pensively on the little black tea-pot, "it ain't no good being a reformatory. The way I've talked to him about his goings on and now look at his goings off."
"Perhaps he couldn't help himself," said Mrs. Swizzle, who was tall and thin, and spoke in a kind of subdued whistle.
"He never tried to, I'll be bound," retorted Mrs. Povy, wrathfully. "Not as he's always bin after married pussons, for I know there is a gal as he pays for her board and lodging."
"Lor'," whistled Mrs. Swizzle, curiously. "Where?"
"Never you mind," returned Totty, screwing up her mouth. "She's a gal as no decent woman 'ud speak to her--silks and satings and wasting of money--oh, I've no patience with 'em! Kettles is snow in whiteness with gals' morals now."
At this moment there came a ring at the door, and Totty hurrying away to attend to it, Mrs. Swizzle made the best use of her time by eating up the buttered toast as rapidly as she could.
When Mrs. Povy opened the door she was confronted by a lank figure in grey, which was none other than Dowker, come to prosecute his inquiries concerning Miss Sarschine.